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CAEDUS TIMELINE REWIND: Last season on "Then and Now"......*After melting down on APEX on March 13th, 2019 and finding himself remanded into the custody of a nut hut, Jim had eventually received a clean bill of mental health months later and been transported back home to Naples Island, Long Beach, CA. Not long after his arrival, his ex Holly Hudson had arrived uninvited and legit blew her way back into his life, though the situation was tenuous at best. Several weeks later, Holly discovered she was pregnant and rather than abandon her, Jim decided to give "playin' house" a shot and be there for the baby, though marriage was definitely out of the question. Months passed before tempers flared and talks of much needed income hit the table. Desiring self employment with a return to perpetually growing medicinal marijuana, Jim made the decision to land a job in the meantime until the first harvest (roughly 16 weeks with his personally bred Thanos OG hybrid). He was fired from the first following a confrontation with a customer and a week later found himself working the register at-

Continued directly from "Then and Now p.8" in "X Marks the Thot" http://xwf99.com/showthread.php?tid=41434

Welcome to McDonald's...can I take your order?



---8 Weeks Later---
March 2020



A girl... It's a girl.


Fuck.


No Jimmy Jr.


...All I ever wanted was a Jimmy Jr. A son to keep the family name goin'.


Now the O'Connor name ends with marriage. Unless...unless she hyphenates.


She?


Elora.


Elora O'Connor.


I love the way that sounds...


Elora O'Connor.


At sayin' her name Jim suddenly discovers a warm glow radiating from within despite his disappointment earlier at seein' Holly's text while on his last break at Mickey D's...



"Then and Now p.9"



---Two hours earlier...---


::BVVVT::


Jim removes the freshly lit Camel Blue 99 from his lips- a habit he'd picked up from his hilariously (or was it infuriatingly) much younger manager a week ago -with his left hand as he pulls his smartphone from his work pants' pocket with his right and checks the notification on the lock screen.


He frowns slightly...


Popping the smoke back between his lips, he unlocks and checks the message.


Holly: It's a girl! 🎉


Jim swipes out of messenger and turns the screen off before sliding the phone back into his pocket and taking another pull off the grit. He removes it, exhales and flicks the still burning butt out further into the parking lot, lost in thought...


That's littering Jim.


Jim flinches in slight surprise, torn from his reverie, and turns to his manager Mike Harris.


Huh? Littering?


Yeah, littering. Littering...and?


Littering and...?


In unison:
Littering aaaand? Littering aaaand? Littering aaaand?
Littering and uh- Littering and uh- Littering and uh-


Littering...and smokin' the reefer. Laughs.


Fuck the Super Troopers movie scene shit bro, here. Jim hands his manager a pound of frosty purple nuggage. Last 'a the product my employees were able to hide before the grow in Palmdale was seized for my fines.


Feigns glancing around nervously before opening the zip lock seal and inhaling deeply. Hooooly SHIT! OG?


Thanos OG. My own hybrid.


Quizzically. Why is it purple but it smells like OG? You forced color with low temperatures?


I was able to get the genetic purple with the OG Skittles taste. Crossed an original Purple Haze with a pure OG a few times and finally bred the desired result. I still have like 300 seeds bro.


Niiiiice. Takes a second sniff before resealing the bag.


So anyway...same deal as before? Grand to me, grand to you. Fifty-fifty. Right?


💯 bruh. In fact- Pulls a thin folded stack of hundreds from his pocket and hands it to Jim. I had it waiting for you.


Jim hesitates- though with a poker face -before accepting the k in fresh big faces. What happened to "on consignment"?


Are you complaining? Snorts. Ok, give it back. I'll-


Pockets the cash. Nah bro. No worries.


I'm on salary Jim, you think I can't afford a front? Your shit's dank bruh, it always sells. Mike checks both ways before crossing the parking lot to his car to place the pound inside. As he returns-


I got a daughter on the way.


Checking his own phone. Huh?


My gir- My ex is pregnant and she just found out it's a girl. I got a daughter on the way.


Still checking his phone, texting. Oh nice bruh, what's his name? Have you picked a name? Legit walks back inside still texting...


Jim's eyes narrow slightly. He reaches into his pocket to pull out the Camel Blue 99 pack-


You SURE you don't have anymore of that?


Flinches. That's the last of everything.


Poking his head out the back door. You're SURE? What if I can get a better price?


Eyes lighting up. Lemme...check with my people. I may have something stashed somewhere in the house too.


Nice! Break's over by the way.








Jim jolts free from the memory, eyes wide in horror, as he tenses and brakes suddenly on the road, the tires on his metallic candy apple green v8 '94 Lincoln Mark VIII luxury sedan POS (I mean, it's on fleek but it ain't worth shit) squealing and smoking before the vehicle finally lurches to a halt a mere foot away from the black SUV stopped at the red light in front of him.


Lil Zane's "Money Stretch" continues to boom through the car as Jim begins to loosen up, his rigid body melting back into the leather seat, danger averted.


The driver's side door opens on the SUV, a rotund hardboiled case of masculine road rage standing approximately 6 and a half feet tall steps

with a glare. Really!? His next statement is inaudible.


After turning the music down, speaking loudly out the window. What?


I said I'm at a dead stop and you almost hit me, asshole!


Sorry bro, I was distracted.


WELL PAY ATTENTION MOTHERFUCKER! Hops back in the SUV as a car behind Jim honks over the now green light.


Fat fuck.


I didn't say shit back either...fuck's wrong with me?


......


You're calmin' down for your daughter, dumbass.


Another honk urges Jim to accelerate through the intersection with a right turn onto the lot of a strip mall, finds an open spot among the multitude and parks.


Still in the car, he pulls out and leafs through the thin stack of Franklins for a count.


Thirty seconds later he's stepping through the Target store egress pushing a cart.


Hours later, grinning ear to ear, he's rolling back out, cart full of items including a "high-end" (for Target) bassinet, car seat, stacks of newborn girl clothing, diapers, Stage 1 detergent, a bouncer, a baby tub and loads of toys.


I like this.


I like bein' daddy.


I like bein' the provider.


It feels right.


Roughly 30 minutes later Jim rolls the fully loaded Lincoln to a stop at a red light, right blinker clicking away as he waits for the opportunity to turn right onto the bridge connecting to Naples Island and home.


This aughta make Holly happy for awhile, no more stress about bein' prepared. No more doubting if I'll be a good daddy. Temporarily get 'er off my back before the next reason to spazz; ball bustin' bi-


Jim's inner monologue trails off, his eyes tracking a 1998 metallic plum Saturn 4-banger- Holly's car -as it turns left off the bridge going the opposite way.


Holly either doesn't notice or doesn't look at Jim as she passes by. Jim's eyes follow in the rearview until her vehicle vanishes from sight-


::HOOOOOOOOONK!!::


Flinching back to life, Jim makes a right turn onto the bridge and heads for home...



To Be Continued

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Redemption...or death.


That's how I'm seein' this match with a man kid I'm safely assumin' the entire XWF Universe is expectin' to win.


Entire. As in







Expecting Corey...to win.


Over my stiff corpse.


Expecting, on their hands and knees, "we're not worthy"-ing, applaudin', laudin'...prayin'...to kill Caedus.


Millions 'a fans, a chunk 'a the roster, worshippin' Corey Smith.


Corey.


Smith.


Asshole extraordinaire.


Not a fun kinda asshole like I am either; an actual asshole who twitches, puckers, somehow inhales and sucks up the adoration then snubs you all in response with a poop-particle pepperin', pink-eye inflictin' fuck you fart. Yeah that's right, he _snubs you_...and the rest about farts, poop and pink-eye too; he is a SHITTY human being.


And if you think Corey SINCERELY Likes you, you're outta your rottin' gourd.


Hell with what I'm sayin' though, amirite? "It's Jimmy Caedus, he's just a hater. I'ma keep respectin' Corey Smith."


Go right ahead.


And those 'a you who respect 'im will continue to get burned and bend over splittin' cheeks for more.... Marks.


Yeah.


You.


You let a boy play you out non-stop.


A goddamn kid.


What the hell happened to my home after I left like a mindless psychopath?


Were those 'a you I remember always this way and I just didn't notice? What about those 'a you representin' the next gen, all you names I was unfamiliar with when I dipped my ass back into the mix? Is Corey Smith really the type 'a person you throw your support behind? To all 'a you my words describe, if you support Corey Smith...


Why?


For what?


To be accepted by one 'a the top talents on the roster? You fuckin' kiddin' me? You that hard up for attention?


Yeah, so is he. Except he ain't givin' it up to you and he never will.


Which 'a you save for a scant few (fuck off Cuntinuum) have been supported or accepted by Corey Smith BEYOND a forced teamin'?


......I'm waiting......


Yeah. Exactly.


He looks down on you all and any kindness or compliment is fleeting, faux and fair-weather.


He's a DOUCHEBAG.


Corey Smith is the type 'a douchebag who targets a weakling bitch like Andre Dixon for the Television Title. Christ, I coulda done that, there just ain't no PRIDE OR HONOR in that type 'a decision, even if #FuckBoB is the argument. And if it WAS the argument, helluva job keepin' the strap outta Bourbon's baby dick defilin', pizza greased mitts. The fuck, Corey? I've captured wins over Bourbs for a grand total of- what izzit Bob, 5? 6 times? You couldn't beat BoBby Bourbon solo, Corey?


Hack.


Oh- No, not you Bourbs (I mean, you ARE but I'm talkin' 'bout-) Corey.


Corey Smith is the type 'a hack who snatches a 24/7 case and refuses to use it. It's always awesome when someone wins a case then drops wet shit on everyone else who shot for it by clutchin' to it like it's the cure for AIDS (another potential reason behind poor Cor's recent "problems"), ESPECIALLY when that someone is considered one of if not THE best in the XWF.


Sure, this juvenile jag-off may have claimed awhile back against Centurion that he doesn't know if he can beat Alias but believe me, he knows he can beat every swingin' dick (not you Chaos) and swollen clit (there you are Chaos, how you been btw baby?) on the roster.


Ain't that right Corey?


... Don't lie to the people ya hardly humble horse's ass, tell 'em the truth for once; you're justifiably arrogant. As. Fuck.


Yeah, justifiably. Still don't make it classy. Or NOT screamin' for a reamin' 'a karmic correction...which I intend to dish out with pulverizin' pulsatin' pleasure next Wednesday. And I'ma nut so continuously and so hard in that ass it blasts up through that twink frame and blows that fat head up to hot-air balloon proportions before poppin' and showerin' the entire floor section 'a seated Smith simps with your brain bits and my joyfully jizztastic Jimgasm.


'Cause you're a hack Corey. Idgaf who you've beaten, how many titles you've held, the more or less momentum you been buildin' since Leap of Faith and out the other end 'a War Games, fuck all that. You're still the same wiry waspy pissant bully I saw when I made my return. You may have cut back on the random linguistic stingin' in the halls on undeserving targets AFTER I called you out on it...but that just means you strapped that nice guy mask on a lil' tighter to avoid a future filletin' 'a character, it don't mean you spontaneously caught a case 'a class. You have no class. You never have, never will.


You may be _out_ but you're still a closet coward who killed his own hero facade when he challenged Dixon for the TV Title. I said it earlier- in context with your definitive



D
O
U
C
H
E
B
A
G
G
E
R
Y




-but that was such a shamelessly spineless move, it bears repeating and fits a plethora 'a points to piss all over that golden boy image 'a yours. I mean, didn't you tryta flip my own accusations back at me in your third promo for Leap of Faith? Callin' ME the real bully here? Who's the bully now, salty nuts? Ya couldn't just cash in on one 'a the tag straps like Engy 1 did to Chaos after motherfuckin' The Motherfuckers at War Games '17 like the self-servin' sack 'a shit YOU very much are? Ya couldn't cash in on Alias after he brutalized Atty- which would've been a chivalrous and HEROIC move FTR, regardless of the legitimacy to her strained or severed ties to BoB -? Ya couldn't leave Dixon to someone like...idk, somebody booked by the brass?


Psh.


Course not. You're a textbook selfish sociopath, an entitled whiny pale little stick boy bitch with too much fuckin' money- or didja "give that away"? -too much active administrative enabling and encouragement and no real idea 'a what nightmares life can truly bring. The type 'a shit real people- NORMAL people (compared to you and your magic baby Barely Peter Pan's Neverland Legal Continuum CummedInYouum underlings) -can relate to...so stick your drug OD induced death-coma that led to bein' able to become one 'a two titans up your whistlin' lube gape, gimp; that ain't "oh woe is me" that's a fuckin' Hollywood wet dream.


As for whatever it is goin' on with you currently, I don't buy it and I have no reason to. You're an accomplished liar and a yellowbellied buttfucker who always seems to slime 'is way outta whatever should shatter the glass good guy exterior you've painstakingly constructed around yourself. I've had about enough 'a your shifty shithead shenanigans.


Wait... Ooooops. I done did it this time. I went and said a whole lotta sum'in sissy sperm-bank-bunghole's gonna gets all mad over and conveniently break 'is rain cloud confused kayfabe to come at Caedus like the killer HE is.


Or.


Ain't.


He.


Got.


The.


BALLS?


Bring it bitch. ANY 'a you...I ain't afraid 'a you Corey, I ain't afraid 'a Lux and I damn sure ain't afraid 'a Engy 2 (kill yourself, Smith).


Are you afraid of ME!?


Your southern slut Dolly miraculously stole my X, you took it from 'er (how's my cock taste Cor?), now I'm takin' it back and ain't any 'a your fluffer friends gonna stop me from doin' it. Now snap your pansyass outta that pathetic display 'a dubious dipshittery, man the fuck up and-


GIVE ME THE XTREME RULES MATCH I DESERVE YOU DICKLESS DODGER.


So adamant and gung-ho to face your good buddy the Hart Champ Thadly "WITHOUT THE RULE" when you KNOW I deserve the first shot at that Xtreme strap... Nice try you


PUSSY.


Ya wouldn't even have won War Games or beaten Dolly for the X if Page hadn't conveniently run in on Robert at such a dramatic moment (I'ma kill you for that btw Chris but feel free to dodge me like the rest 'a my targets do) and Alias hadn't HANDED you the little snot.


Dolly.


The one who took down the guy you couldn't take down on Savage for the TV Title. Your friend and...perhaps more? Did I- did I see that somewhere? Didja fuck Dolly, Corey, then turn around at War Games and capitalize on 'er for the Xtreme strap? You DID... Wow...what a tough sumbitch you are, dare I say rivalin' Peter Gillyan levels. Like Engy with his elder abuse on 'is own father, 'member that? Oh wait, that's irrelevant huh. That was the late Dexter Brite aka Engy 1 wasn't it? And despite the 🤔 over how you act like mentioning Engy 1 is a mistake and somehow ain't relevant to a kid in which an Engy TWO exists, I'd say it sounds pretty fuckin' relevant- albeit lazily and weakly contrived -to me. The point being-


-Corey Smith isn't a good guy at all. Corey Smith is a villain and a willin' vessel of said.


Corey Smith is the greatest fake in this company. I may be a complete dickhead specifically (and PROFESSIONALLY I might add) when it comes to competition but I don't hurt people otherwise and I never deny what I am. I own it. Corey likes to play the part 'a popular hero even though he realizes he's far darker at his Core than any babyface should ever be. He also possesses no heart or soul. Dude is empty, it's how there's so much room for so many other entities within 'im. The retcons and exposition layin' out how and why Lux, Engy 2 and Iggy are in there is all set dressing.


It's simply Corey.


Corey's a straight up demon, it's why he sucks at bein' human. What we see on the outside is a simple meat shell. The real Corey Smith is an entity we've never seen nor will we ever (probably) because it terrifies 'im to even THINK about revealin' said source. He knows he'd be reviled, avoided, hunted...and that, for demons like Corey Smith and John Wayne Gacy...is somethin' he can never allow to happen; NOT havin' his public nice guy face and reputation goin' strong. Enter coinkydink Engy 2 and the femme fatale future assassin Lux.


Invaders?


No.


Invited.


Like when I beg Satan to gimme the power to simultaneously punish all in need in exchange for my soul but then chicken out and say "nvm, fuck off Dock"...Corey didn't hesitate. Didn't blink.


He allowed possession.


How frequently does he employ the maneuver Face Pain De-Lux?


Engy II and Lux cover who Corey truly is.


They allow him to live out his toxic and violent desires vicariously.


They grant him the ability to "run away" and recharge where the rest of us- not you Charlie, although you suck no matter who you "are" -have to face that inevitable burn out. They let Corey Lifehack.


'Cause Corey IS a hack.


And an asshole who tarnishes the 24/7 briefcase with neglect.


And a douchebag who chooses to attack those far below his level without provocation.


And a sociopathic villain who apathetically hurts people outside the 24/7 halls, hype cycles and ring, LEGIT fuck-fucked Dolly- a chick who has LEGITIMATELY suffered enough in 'er life -has 'er catch feelings for 'im then DROPKICKS 'ER to the side and CONTINUES to enjoy her loyal friendship after doin' so like the undeservin' dick he is. Same shit he does to everyone.


And.


You.


All.


Like.


Him.


A violent villainous sociopath.


But most of all, Corey Smith is a



COWARD.



And I'll be damned if I let a coward cost me a return to momentum and what I earned, lost and crave; the XWF Xtreme Championship.


And an awful lot like with Lycana- in fact, EXACTLY like with Lycana, you're both bitches -there ain't shit I won't do to take the X back.


Spoiler.


Alert.


I'm gonna Xorcise the demon with a liberal application 'a the power 'a Christ pecker 'a Caed's cumpels you, nail that undoubtedly hairless and perfumed pump-roast to ring post, have Arcana magick me a spikey feline dick (look it up), fishhook your lower intestine inside out, yank it further, envelope you with it like a used anal blasted shitty condom and swing you like a sleepin' bag fulla melons 'til I've juiced the jag-off in a jimmy.


Fuck you Corey.



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