Madness.

It beats inside every man’s head like an always pounding drum.

But what is madness? When can you say that a man’s gone mad?

When a man walks in on his wife bent over in front of another man, is he mad for taking a baseball bat to the fellow’s head?

Is passion synonymous with madness?

I don’t think so.

So why is a man deemed mad for garroting the fellow while in the act? For dragging him by the ankles down into the cellar, and fashioning his skin as a mask so he can please his wife himself?



Why the fuck are you asking me, bitch?





The camera opens on a shot of Demos seated across from Charlie Nickles. Charlie’s scruffy beard looks clean and his hair neatly trimmed. His right ear seems perfectly intact. His orange jumpsuit looks a bit worn, but it fits decently well. His hands and feet are shackled to the table.

I don’t got shit to say to you. I hope Doc guts you like the fishy cunt you are!

Demos cracks a grin underneath his tightly fitted mask. His dark mane hangs down to his shoulder blades. A small trail of grease leaves a mark on his white shirt every time his hair moves. The voice of the Demos booms throughout the room with authority.

We’re in this together, whether you like or not.

Demos stares into Charlie’s eyes. A few beads of sweat trickle down the prisoner’s face as the familiar pair of eyes gaze into his soul.

Your life is mine to make. You can serve me well and live in luxury, or you can perish in the void. Tell me, Charlie, have you been enjoying yourself?

Charlie’s eyes flicker around the room that has housed him for the past month. His shackles begin to shake against the floor as his feet pounce up and down. Charlie’s fingers come together, slipping and sliding in their shared sweat. Charlie looks back at Demos.

FUCK YOU!

She would, you know?

Confusion washed over the prisoner’s face as his body stilled.

Hu-

Connie would fuck me. Why wouldn’t she? I look just like you. But, as some have said, I’m less of a dick. The world thinks I’m you. But better. Nicer. Why wouldn’t she fuck me?

What the fuck are you talki-

If I took this mask off and went to visit Connie, gave her a box of chocolates and some kind words, she’d take me back. Unlike you, I know how to use my words. You just sling around the vilest thoughts that you can rummage up with no care for truth or tact. You’re easy to see through. Everyone with a lick of wisdom is attuned to your tricks. Connie doesn’t want you.

But she’d want me.

I’m already taking care of her like you never could. No more getting paid by Vinnie Lane in hookers and heroin. Now? Your paychecks are paying her mortgage. Going towards her retirement fund. I had the lawyers work it all out weeks ago. What does the Demos need money for, anyways?

Now imagine if I showed up to her door. I’ve paid her bills, saved her from foreclosure, and now I show up with dinner for the family and a new playstation five for the kids? Well, she would feel obliged to repay me.

SHUT YOUR FUCKING MOUTH!

Huusssssh.

Demos brought his calloused right hand up to his face. He lifted his grimey finger to his chapped lips as he softly hushed the prisoner.

MRRRM-HHRRRM-MMMMRHH!

Charlie frantically turned his head from side to side as he tried to pull back on the shackles. Sweat poured down his face as his eyes glanced down to his nose, trying to see what was happening just beneath. Within milliseconds his lips had been sewn shut.

I came back to see you, and so far, you’ve been insufferable.

Why should you be kept?

If you won’t bring me value, I will bring the abyss to you.

You don’t want that. No one does.

No one wants…..nothing.

MRRRM-HHRRRM-MMMMRHH!

Your destiny is mine alone to control. Everything you will ever experience, ever see, ever touch will be my gift to you. Are you wise enough to accept my blessings? Or will you rot in defiance of my will?

Demos narrowed his eyes at Charlie as the prisoner squirmed across the table from him. The ceaseless ringing of shackles came to an abrupt end as Charlie suddenly froze in place, his body half leaning out of the chair. Demos pushed his own chair back as he stood up. He tapped the table softly with his left hand as he walked over to his prisoner. Demos crouched down as he reached Charlie. He took Charlie’s chin with his left hand as he crept forward. Demos’ stoic gaze was now an inch away from Charlie’s scrambling eyes.

I can feel your corruption inside of these walls. With every passing thought I can feel your evil intentions.

Do you want to know why I took so long to come visit you, Charlie?

I didn’t want to know what I’d find in this room. In some respects, I suppose you could say I was afraid of what might be in here.

Demos chuckles softly.

I was so naive.

My mind is no different than the world. The Demos rules over all.

Demos brought his right hand up to wipe away a stray tear that was slowly sliding down the prisoner’s cheek.

Your foul stench will no longer be tolerated inside these halls.

Charlie’s eyes frenzied inside of their sockets as if they were desperately seeking an escape. They ran up and down from side to side as if trying to pull themselves free from Charlie’s frozen body.

These are your final moments, Charlie. Remember it all now: all the good times, the parties, the highs and the lows. Remember them now, for this will be your last chance…..

Unless…..

Charlie’s eyes bounced back to their center, freezing upon Demos on their own accord. They seemed determined to see every word.

You provide value to me.

mrr-hrrrmm-mmrrr

I can give you the world. All these weeks inside this cage. Must have been lonely.

Haven’t you wanted to see Connie just one more time?

Only I can make that happen.

The choice is yours, Charlie Nickles.

Demos released Charlie as he stood up and took a few paces back. The masked man’s left hand touched down on the table as Charlie gasped for air and fell further out of the chair. Charlie clumsily pulled himself up to a normal seated position by pulling on the chains that bind him. Charlie met the stare of the Demos with a pleading look.

What...what do you want, man? What do you want from me?

Tell me about the good Doctor.

Charlie sunk back into his chair as he thought back to the savage solstice. He broke eye contact with Demos, but only for a moment.

He’s fucking hard, man. He’s not the strongest or the fastest but every single move is calculated. He gets you off your guard. Takes you in ways you ain’t never been taken before. He ain’t around much but when he is around people pay attention. He’s got an ugly mug but the people eat it up. The fans can’t get enough of the doctor. He just fucking wins, man.

So that’s the story, Charlie? You just weren’t good enough?

Charlie sits up hastily as his retort fires out of his mouth.

He fucking got one over on me the moment that stipulation was signed! He tricked me into fighting in some gimmicked up rooftop match with no rules! He had every fucking trick up his sleeve. Dude pulled fire out of his ass! He had his fat fuck friend help in a pinch, and he didn’t even have to pin me to win! He’s always thinking twelve steps ahead. His body doesn’t run fast but his mind goes at a thousand motherfucking miles per minute. It’s the mental game that he gets everyone with!

He didn’t get me with it. Are you sure it’s everyone?

Har har har man, joke’s on Charlie.

Demos taps the table softly with the knuckles of his left hand. A framed photograph of a young brunette woman in a swimsuit appears on the table. Her warm smile seems to welcome the attention, but one’s gaze can’t help but be drawn to her plump derriere. That’s what drew Charlie’s eyes, at least.

I thought you might want some company.

Demos swiftly turned about face. Demos marched towards the door across the room, leaving only Charlie and the photograph of his ex wife on the table.

Wait! Don’t you want to know how to beat him?!

Demos turned to face Charlie once more only after he reached the door.

Why would I ask you?

Demos stepped through the steel door before letting it slam shut behind him. He steps out to a golden hallway with linoleum flooring. Sapphires, diamonds, and rubies litter the walls and ceiling of the long hallway. Demos marches to the end of the hall with a calm determination in his step. He immediately turns right and heads down a set of spiraling stairs. His feet skitter down them as his right hand slides down the guardrail.

Demos hops off the staircase and enters into a much shorter hallway. A big empty room, really. A colorful disco ball hangs from the ceiling, shining shifting colors of light upon the cold concrete walls. A man in a neon getup is leaning against the wall, moaning as he relieves himself. A yellow trail of piss is visible along the wall. He shakes the specks off and tucks it back in as Demos approaches him. The man turns around and offers a firm handshake to Demos.



The crowd pops as Charlie LoveNickles aka Tha Notorious Brotha C turns around! Demos doesn’t shake his hand.

Just the man I was looking for.

Charlie LoveNickles, the always cool cat that he is, easily transitions the denied handshake into a finger guns greeting.

Bang bang brotha! What can I do ya for?

The good doctor. You heard of him?

I heard of a lotta docs, Dolla Dolla Dame! We got Seuss, House, Turk, who ye looking for? I ain’t seen many docs down here but I’ll always keep a look at for ye, brotha!

Demos smiled at the well intentioned oaf as green, blue, red, and yellow lights shined intermittently upon him.

D’Ville! I was hoping to pick your brain. Do you know him?

Ohhhhhhhhhh THAT lil bitch?! Word on the street is he isn’t even a real doctor! None of my brothas ever saw him in any of our classes at the school of hard knocks!

Shiiiiiiit I know of him. Can somebody say OVER-RATED? Mofuckuhs got all of two wins in 2021? Shit brotha, you got two wins last week! What has he done for me LATELY? Oh they say he beat Bourbon and Knuckles?

Well shiiiiittt brotha, if that’s all it takes then I’m a certified legend!

Oh man thems was the days! Throwing each and every member o’ that little sissyhood out over the top rope wasn’t no thang! Bourbon, Knuckles, Oswald, Fury, Green, and the whole lot o them mothafuckas! I took em all on at once and didn’t break a sweat. They used to call me Charlie LoveNickles, but now the hussies have started calling me Charlie LoveDimes cuz I like to take em on ten at a time!

And besides, the only Bearded War Pig anyone gives a fuck about anymore is right here, baby!

Brotha C does the DX crotch shot. His fly is down.

D'Ville can’t carry on much longer. His ittle wittle brittle body is bout to break. D'Ville can bullshit with the best of em. He can spit in his palm and sell it to the common man as the COVID vaccine. But bullshit only gets ye so far! Brotha C oughta know!

That old spider spins himself blue crafting his bologna webs. He can’t face the facts! But he knows they’re coming! And this is facts! His body’s telling him “FUCKING STOP! OLD MAN NO! I CAN’T TAKE IT ANYMORE!” but the geezer doesn’t wanna listen! The old fart doesn’t know what’s good for him!

D'Ville can spin all the bullshit he wants but the facts is the facts! He can’t do those long tours, his body will give out! He needs a months rest from a real match, AT LEAST! His feeble foot fractures every time it hits the entrance ramp! As soon as the bell rings his body is on a timer! And it doesn’t just reset that easily anymore! Not like it used to!

It takes a lot for a body, anybody, to withstand a real full-fledged XWF tour! The same old shit doesn’t work anymore when you have to do it every week! You need to be creative, fresh, innovative if you’re going to capture the spotlight! All the boys backstage watch your every move, waiting in the wings to pick you apart the first chance they get!

That’s why Doc doesn’t like to give very many chances! He’s as free as a bird he says, but the old man flies back into his cage for months at a time! He needs to rest in his nest. Let his flesh paper over the scars only so they can be cut open again a few months down the road.

Ah shit, and I heard he’s coming back already from that Blow Job match with Corey, is that true?

Brotha C cocked his head as he placed his hands on his hips. Demos chuckled softly before answering.

True it is, Charlie. In fact, it’s against me, believe it or not.

No way! That’s a crazy fucking coincidence!

Indeed it is. We’re facing off in this little thing called March Madness, you ever heard of it?

O that's the lil NCAA-knockoff thang Vinnie and Smokin’ B rigged up so they can bet on all those matches with them crazy ass odds and probabilities! Placing them anonymous bets on what one o’ two of the matches are gonna be before they’re called and raking in that mad dough....oh shit! No wonder they gave you Doc! Oh man them slick sons of bitches really rigged up a good one this year huh. Who woulda thought you and D’Ville in the first round?

Oh brotha that senile son of a gun is taking a reaaaall risk coming back so soon like this. You’re about to expose him BIG TIME. Shiiiit I don’t know how much that bag of bones thought he had left in the tank! Shiiiiiitttt even with a good first couple matchups the sack of shit wasn’t going to get very far with his engine!

Even if his first round matchup was a Calypso or a Von Bonn or a Liam Roberts or a Hanari Carnes or a Money Oswald they’d still run his creative energies down so much he’d probably fall in the next round!

But even if his second round matchup was a Jenny Myst or a Ned Kaye or a Atara Themis or a Betsy Granger or a Miss Fury they’d challenge him so much that he’d be nothing but an empty casket walking to the ring for the quarterfinals!

Shit, has he even ever faced any of those people? Who exactly has this motherfucka beat that has got everyone so pressed? His big wins from years ago? They don’t matter any fucking more! His big rivalry with Vinnie Lane? Who gives a fuck! Vinnie Lane ain’t a wrestler! He’s a rockstar, baby!

Shit, didn’t the viagra dick have something going with Trax a while back? Who gives a fuck?! The only trax anyone gives a fuck about anymore are the yellow tracks running down Doc’s depends!

But fuck brotha, you’re telling me that viagra dick has to face YOU in round one?

Ohhhhhhhhh shiiiit.

Brotha C daps up Demos.

Man you bout to take him for everything he’s got.

FUCK!

I’m hard just thinking about it!

My brotha Demos comes rolling out of the gate with a huge round one win against the guy who will be a ‘used to have been a tag champion’! The clout is going to be dripping off of you like cum off of my stiff dick!

Oh brotha you’re going to wipe the floor with that raggedy bald bitch in the first round! You're going to beat him so bad that his fanboys are going to swear that Jim Jimson came to the ring in his place! That’ll be a nice little end to his documentary when he finally kicks the can!

‘Doc D’Ville….XWF legend….won so many belts….great rivalries, here watch some five star matches against disgraced has-beens…..then he came back when he shouldn’t have to get humiliated by Demos and then he got carried out on a god damned stretcher! That’s the Doc D’Ville story! Now buy our Shawn Warstein tape, no spoilers but it’s the same damn ending!’

Oh fuck brotha Demos you’re going to be a BIG SHOT! You pull this all off just like I know you will and you’re going to be the biggest star in all of pro wrestling!

Brotha Demos! In just one and a half months you WILL BE:

The Tag Team Champion!

Hot off of victories against D’Ville, Warstein, and Jackson!

The god damned marcher of madness! Or whateva they call the honorific these days!

And you’ll be the longest reigning TV champion of all time! Because no one counts Azrael’s reign!

DAMN, DEMOS! Look at you go!

You're going to have all the little suckboys nibbling on your tip by the time the smoke clears! This is going to be a story for the motherfucking ages.