X-treme Wrestling Federation

Dear Janet:

It’s me again, girl—your partner in crime. I thought I would pick up where we left off in the previous letter. If you recall, I was your uninvited guest from three weeks ago who handpicked you as a special project; a project which you are a part of today. It’s a strange project, indeed, but it’s one that will be beneficial to both of us in the long run. I’m sure your family is so proud of what you’ve accomplished so far.

But let’s turn our attention back to November; specifically, your “recruitment” into The Black Circle.

Do you remember how you were recruited by us? I know a lot has gone down since then, so I’ll refresh your memory.

You might remember that it was Dr. Idenhaus who came to your front door for a second time on the day you met each other. In fact, he came off so genuine the first time that you guys met that you didn’t feel the least bit uncomfortable or threatened when he showed up the second time around. Sure, it was a little late and night out, but you didn’t question Dr. Idenhaus’ intentions. Dr. Idenhaus even offered to make the repairs right there on the spot despite the time of day and the frigid weather. You were so charmed by him that you invited him and his friend in for tea. That turned out to be a mistake, didn’t it?

I remember that special moment where we made eye contact with each other for the first time. I could tell by the look on your face that you felt as though there was something peculiar about me. I had been hiding off to the side, waiting for Idenhaus to be invited inside so that I could follow behind. In truth, I don’t believe you would have so much as cracked the door open for me if Dr. Idenhaus had not been there. You knew right away that something was off about the situation. Still, you offered us a place to sit and brought us some tea. It wasn’t until you noticed me helping myself to the windows and doors that you began to panic. You watched me slowly close the drapes and close the bolts shut. Only then did you realize what was in store for you. Still, you tried to keep your composure and acted as though nothing was wrong. You told us to wait while you went and got your “husband.”

We waited for what felt like an eternity while you sought out for your “husband.” I became impatient. I wanted to meet this lucky man of yours so I gave myself a tour of your house until I came up on the bedroom that you were hiding in. You had your phone in your hand which was now noticeably shaky. No husband in sight. I could tell that you had spent the longest two minutes of your life listening to your outgoing phone calls and messages go unanswered. Seeing me creep through your door was the last thing you wanted to see at that moment. You told me that you would be out momentarily; that you just needed to make a quick phone call. It was at this moment when you realized the severity of your mistake. How could you let that creepy looking bastard sneak in behind the friendly looking doctor?

Of course, you went straight to dialing 9-11, but before you could hit the call button, you had taken a punch to the jaw. I apologize for that, but I was in no mood to flee the cops that night. Plus, you probably didn’t understand or appreciate the opportunity that was given to you at the time. Shortly after the K.O you were stuffed into the trunk of Dr. Idenhaus’ dented Chevy, and taken to your new home.

Ah, the drive home. I remember the drive home that night. It was a very special drive, but also turned a little bit strange. Let me tell you how it went so that you can get a good idea of how my brothers and I operate. Again, keep in mind that this conversation took place in November.

“She’s perfect, Nathaniel,” I said as we drove back to NAZI’s home. “Drive carefully this time, Nathan. And obey the speed limit. I know you guys like to drive two hundred miles per hour down your Autobahn, but we can’t be doing that shit with that whore in the trunk.”

Nathaniel had nothing to say in response. He was ready to call it a day and leave me to whatever sick bullshit that I had going on in my head.

“That woman does not set foot in my home, John.”

“What the fuck, NAZI? Flo (Janet) trusted us enough to let us into her home, and you’re not willing to do the same?”

“No, John.”

“Damn, you really are a fucking Nazi, aren’t you? You’re prepared to leave that woman out in the cold like an animal. I guess while we’re at it, we should shave her head and seize all of her belongings too! Yeah, we’ll even tell her that we’ve got a warm shower waiting for her. You are a sick fuck, Nathaniel.”

“John, you literally just abducted a young woman from her home. You call that person ‘Flo’ the entire time. And you keep going on and on about some ridiculous mind control experiment. And you’re calling me a sick fuck?”

“Oh; how typical of the Nazi. I bet if we get busted by the police, you would tell them you were just following orders, right? You’d say that you didn’t realize how fucked up everything was at the time.”

“No, John. We’re in this together. I share responsibility with you for whatever happens. Look, I have a guest house that…’Flo’ can stay in. You’re responsible for her though.”

“That’s more like it. See, not everything has to be about mass murder, you fucking jerry. Now you can go home, smoke a pack of cigarettes and eat your Apfelstrudel.”

At that moment, Nathaniel reached into his coat and pulled out his Luger P08. It’s the same Luger P08 that I vandalized by signing my name into the pistol grip while NAZI was taking a shit. He brings the barrel of the Luger to my temple, causing me to jerk my hands up.

“Holy fuck, Adolf! I told I would buy you a new gun, you selfish asshole. I’ll buy you whatever Nazi paraphernalia you want. Now put that shit away before I use my karate on you!”

NAZI chuckled as he watched me squirm in my seat. He then took the opportunity to talk a bunch of shit to me. (That fucking prick!) Keep in mind that this took place about two weeks prior to Lethal Lottery.

“I bet Theo Pryce takes your crown, John.”

“What the fuck, Adolf? Are you kidding me right now? Why would that asshole even get a match for the crown? He said he wasn’t interested in it.”

“Well, right now he’s in the lead in the fan polls. The fans want to see John Madison versus Theo Pryce. It’s out of Theo’s hands right now.”

“God damn it. Why is that prick even in the group? I made one deal with the guy and talked about how he’s a future star, and suddenly the entire XWF is hanging off the man’s cock. I never approved of that shit. He was supposed to be a business partner—my business partner-- separate from the group.”

“Me, Luca, Nova, and Shane agreed to bring him in. We tried to get a hold of you, but of course you were too busy getting drunk and sleeping with prostitutes all week.”

“Well… FUCK! Alright then I guess I’m facing Theo’s ass even though you shitheads just brought him into our group. Now get that gun out of my face!”

For the first time in that 24 hour timespan, NAZI smiled, and put away his Luger. The remainder of the trip was silent as we were headed in the direction of Idenhaus’ home.

Once we got there, Nathaniel dumped the keys on me and left me to take care of you, Janet. I found you in the trunk of his Camaro, still unconscious, and I carried you into his guest house. After locking you up, I decided to retire for the evening. I sat in the guest house and watch you from across the room as you lied in bed with one wrist cuffed to the headboard. I couldn’t wait to get started on our little project. After all, I went through so much trouble just to set this entire thing up.

One month later, I feel so proud of what we’ve accomplished.

Sure, we’ve had our troubles lately, but I think we can work through it. I have to say, we’ve pulled this shit off pretty well so far. Everyone believes you truly are John Madison. We just have to keep playing this shit up. If they ask you what your name is, you tell them John Madison. I even had Mr. Supernova put together a few other things in order to make this seem like the real deal. For instance, your ability to change your voice into mine was the spaceman’s work. He even gave you a head to carry around that looks just like me. We owe Mr. Supernova a lot for helping make this dream possible. But you won’t need to worry about that, I can take care of the spaceman. Wink, wink.

Yes, we had a setback that resulted in you losing my crown and being buried in Shane’s feces by Theo Pryce. To be honest, I spent eight months with that thing and I’m over it at this point. This project is bigger to me than the crown. But you won’t tell them that, Janet. If anyone asks you how you feel about losing the crown, you’ll tell them that you gave it your best effort and that Theo Pryce was the better man that night. You’ll tell them that you’re starting from the bottom and working your way up. And more importantly, you will tell them that you are John Madison.

Your victory over Liz Hathaway, although it was a dangerously close contest, steered us in the right direction. There’s no need to brag about that one. We’ll just accept it and move on.

The following week, you forced the European Champion and my longtime rival, Sid Feder, to forfeit his match with you. I have to say, the fact that you made him forfeit without muttering a single word had me impressed. You then proceeded to rip apart the X-Treme Champion Peter Gilmour and devastated him in the ring with a crowbar and a spiked dildo. They will say that the match went down as a draw, but everyone will remember that it was you who stood tall above the X-Treme Champion as the match came to an end. They will also remember that it was you who struck fear into the heart of Sid Feder and sent him on a little vacation. As for Peter Gilmour; it was the same fate. Just a week after you gave him a rectal examination with a crowbar, he lost a match and put back on all that weight he lost. I hear he had to take a little vacation as well. It must be tough times for the Feder family right now. I imagine that little Petey and Sid are probably curled up together under Poppa Feder’s arm.

That brings us to next week.

John Madison versus Jessie Diaz...

I’ll go ahead and save that for the next letter though.

Love,
John