An endless sea of trees surround both sides of the long, lonely road. It’s an old road, beat up from years of usage. In the distance a small truck emerges from the late night mist. The night is cold but technically unseasonably warm for the time of year. It is the only vehicle around for miles most likely. It rumbles along the dirty old road while hitting almost every pothole along the way. The driver is an overweight man in his late forties with teeth almost as yellow as the tips of his fingers. The cabin absolutely reeks of stale cigarette smoke with a hint of urine.
…Probably from the multiple jugs of piss resting on the passenger side floor…
Thankfully the back of the truck isn’t closely connected so the stench manages to stay out of there. With the light amount of crates and packages, the back of the truck is also carrying our good friend Marf. The steady rumbling had helped him doze off for a while but after the last big pothole he stirs awake for a moment. Marf shifts his body and the heavy tarps to attempt to get comfy. The cold steel floor of the back of the truck just was not meant to be slept on. Marf tries to curl up and fall back asleep but no sooner are his eyes closed when the truck suddenly stops moving.
Marf takes in a long, impatient breath and lets it out while growling to himself. What the fuck now…? He opens his angry blue eyes up and scans the dark inside of the truck. A loud, sharp banging rattles at the other end of the truck. Marf crawls out of his setup and carefully makes his way to the huge back door. He waits for a moment but there is only silence. Marf goes to open the door but it doesn’t budge. He wrestles with it for a solid minute and then throws his weight into it before bursting through.
Marf stumbles forwards and falls into the dirt while the giant crowd in the massive coliseum jeers at him. Marf looks up in awe at the sight before him. Marf mutters to himself as the real life medieval times is unfolding in front of him. Ohhh fuuuuck… Marf slowly gets back to his feet while noticing several other helmeted men around him. Most of them don’t seem to notice or care about Marf as they are also caught up in the awe of the place. All of them have swords and small wooden shields. Marf looks down and there is a sword, helmet and a wooden shield sitting at his feet.
Don’t leave that there. Pick it up. Fight. Worry about your nerves later.
Marf cocks his head at the sound of the voice. Turns out one of the several men is actually a female. She glared at him suspiciously while Marf gathers his equipment without removing his gaze from her. With himself included there are a dozen of them there but she appears to be the only female. The roaring crowd that have filled the coliseum to watch the bloodshed are so loud Marf can barely gather his thoughts. Marf groans and throws the helmet on, a daunting task as it reeks of old sweat and blood. He holds his shield and sword awkwardly while trying to see what’s happening.
Shi-at, your brain fucked up or something buddy? Look, just stay behind me and when the fighting starts…I hope you know how to use that fuckin’ thing.
She nods at the sword and Marf rolls his eyes while quietly trudging behind her. A loud crash of a massive bell sounds out and breaks Marf’s attention. Several trumpets sound out now as the massive wooden doors across the arena from them begin to open. Marf looks around at this random team of gladiators all huddled around him and can only feel a sense of dread creeping into the deepest pits of his stomach. The steady cheering and shouting of the surrounding crowd has somehow increased and Marf can’t hear anything else.
All he can do is look around while trying to keep himself from feeling panicked. Marf faces forward and pokes his head around the female warrior in front of him to watch the giant doors opening. As they finally are wide enough, several much larger looking men make there way out with much more powerful looking weapons. One of them just carries an oversized sword that is almost twice the size of the warriors. Another one carries a large chain that appears to be embedded with hundreds of little, sharp hooks.
Oh we’re fucked…
The female warrior turns around briefly to look at Marf before turning back to the massive warriors walking towards them.
So you do speak? Stay behind me and kill whatever I don’t, got it?
Marf frowns and let’s out an almost audible sigh.
Sure…
They begin to move as a big group while the dangerously armed warriors approach. One of the lacklustre dozen suddenly breaks from the group and charges forward. He hollers a pretty tame war cry and raises his sword before getting absolutely squashed by the cartoonishly giant sword of the warrior. The crowd bursts into a new level of loud cheering and screaming. The rest of the supposed gladiators get spooked by the violent display and begin breaking off while the girl shouts at Marf angrily.
Stay with me! I need your help, don’t leave me now!
Marf furrows his brow while turning to his left and seeing Damien standing there waving. Marf closes his eyes and gives his head a decent shake.
…you’d be smarter to leave, ya know…
…what?
I can’t do this without you! Let’s go!
Marf shakes his head again and looks again but Damien is gone. He turns back to what’s going on in front of him as two of the nasty looking warriors close in on them. One of them has an axe in each hand. The other holds onto a Tommy gun which really makes no sense at all if you think about it.
But thankfully, nobody is here to think.
Marf raises up his shield as the woman in front of him suddenly lunges forward and spins, dodging an axe swung at her head with ease. She stops on a dime and then torques her body again, avoiding the other axe before turning gracefully and stabbing her sword right into the heart of the behemoth of a man holding the machine gun. He tries to point the Tommy gun at her but she pulls her sword out of his chest in one swift action and then brings it down, severing both his hands and sending the machine gun to the ground with two bloody hands.
Marf spots the monster of a man with the axes lining up the female warrior and growls impatiently. Marf jumps forward and as the man is bringing both axes down on the unsuspecting woman, Marf blocks it with his shield instead. The axes both get wedged into Marf’s shield and he tosses it aside. He thrusts his blade forward and it plunges into the giant warrior’s gut. Blood spurts out far too exaggerated and splashes all over Marf and the woman. She looks unfazed while staring at Marf in surprise.
…you saved me…you really saved me there. I…I owe you my life! You’ve been so good to me! Why are you so good to me?
How ‘bout we worry about that later. Let’s get the fuck out of this alive first.
She looks like she is going to say some more gushy bullshit so Marf turns away to see the action unfolding around them. He spots one of the gladiators trying to run but the huge guy with the hooked chain swings it like a god damn lasso and tosses it perfectly. It strikes the gladiator and wraps around him, dozens of little hooks digging into his flesh now. The beastly man yanks on the chain hard and the gladiator screams out as his skin is torn to shreds. Marf looks away but then his vision begins to blur. Everything starts to fade…
…you will regret it, that I can promise a thousand times over…
…the fuck?
To be continued…
Another day breaks and the last one's gone,
You dig deep just to carry on.
Your debt's paid off but it don't feel gone,
So you slip out the back and you're moving on, yeah.
I can never figure out how to make a case,
That this don't amount to a fall from grace.
She wants to know can I replace,
This tired wool with satin lace.
Says you're on a bridge to nowhere and you're gettin' there fast,
Put it in the past, put it in the past.
If this is a race then I hope you come last.
You're on a bridge to nowhere and you're gettin' there fast.
Pressure builds 'til it breaks the door,
You can build a house you can't build a home.
And it's a fool who believes love is bred in the bone.
And there're no guarantees that you won't get stoned.
Yeah, I'm a fool who believed love is bred in the bone.
And there're no guarantees that I won't get stoned…
Taking place…who knows where!
Marf casually strolls into view and here we fucking go folks!
Well would you look at that, Fire and Ice is finally emerging from the horizon! The latest big time show and first pay per view of the new year. A company full of motherfuckers ready to crawl out from under Covid’s skirt and grab ole twenty twenty two by the droopy hairies and claim this is their year. The Bastards, Alias and Jim had their time in the sun of 2021 but now magically a new crop of dreamers were ready to take control of their destinies and step into the limelight. Whether they burned or not.
A snort, a snot infused spit to the floor and a quick grimace. Possibly not in that order.
Yeahhhh, I don’t really give a fuck about all that either. Let these maggots eat themselves for all I fucking care. I’m just here to hurt people. They actually pay me real fuckin’ money to do just that. With so many miserable fucks out there scraping by, pay check to pay check while hating their minuscule jobs…Marf hops and plants his feet in a delightful little mocking pose…here I am! Working a job I actually fuckin’ love! What’s that saying again? If ya love what ya do and shit. And believe me, I definitely love what I do.
I love getting to watch every single fucktard that comes before me run their mouths like it actually gets to me. I love seeing every competitor beam with pride at their meaningless words of useless wisdom. I love sitting back to behold the growing confidence of every piece of shit that steps in the ring with me. And I love getting into that very ring and inflicting the type of pain that makes a person question if they want to do this anymore. And most of all I love when that look shows up in their eyes. The realization that all those words are no longer there to shield them from sheer brutality.
Marf’s face is almost twitching at the thought of violence but thankfully, he collects himself and we can continue.
Honestly, I missed doing this. It has not been that long but it sure has felt like it. I took a brief bit of time off over Christmas to sort some shit out. Who the fuck cares, I know. But even though I missed some shows, there was no way I was missing the next pay per view. In case you fucking missed it, I’ve been putting out some of my best work in that ring on pay per views lately. Take a fuckin’ peek at the last xwf pay per view, Bad Medicine. I walked in there up against a man that already held one victory against me.
As per fucking usual I was counted out before we even got to the big night. Then at Bad Medicine I took my revenge on Schism and beat the holy hell out of him. I did exactly what I promised him I was going to do and I dropped him on his drug frazzled brain. Maybe it’ll knock some sense into him, who the fuck knows it wasn’t long after before he disappeared. And in that wonderful process I just so happened to win a fuckin’ title shot against the Xtreme champion. For those keeping score at home that meant Bam Miller.
Marf snorts through a chuckle before clearing his throat. A tad unprofessional but we’ll allow it.
Bam Bam Miller. Viva La Bam. They told me I could face you right away but I asked for a pay per view match instead. All you had to do was make it to god damn Iceland with the belt and we were destined for a war. But then you went and fucked all that up now didn’t you? Stupid fucking cocky piece of shit, how did you blow it that quickly? Trying to set records in all the worst ways or what? What a fuckin’ waste, you had the most sought after title that isn’t the universal and you lost it like some nothing match from Big Preesh on Anarchy.
Your triumphant title run was as dead as Don Vito and Ryan Dunn. Much like their lives, simply looked back upon as nothing but a waste. Good job fuck nuts, tripped over your own god damn feet and lost that prestigious belt to the god damn mortal kombat guy. And it wasn’t even in a match of any kind. You fuckin’ shit yourself in the 24/7 hallways and gave away the only thing that made anyone give a shit about you. No more big time first defense to start the new year. You missed grabbing those balls and got tea bagged instead. Somehow you got shoe horned into the match as an afterthought, real classy fella.
Marf can’t resist and flips off the camera. Luckily xwf isn’t looking for any PG rating.
Now this is where we should be moving on to the guy that beat Bam Bam for the Xtreme and currently is our reigning champion. Except he isn’t. Johnny fuckin’ Cage Coleman. Former Xtreme champ. Yes, I said former, because Cage’s dumb ass went and lost the damn belt already. Is there a fuckin’ echo in here or something? Yeah, double C managed to steal the Xtreme title for a hot minute and then lost it to the guy who looks like a rage against the machine groupie who’s girlfriend gives blowjobs so they have money for weed.
You’re a fuckin’ dolt that had no business with the Xtreme title, Coleman. You fell ass backwards into a championship run that’s pathetic stench could peel fresh paint. If you slicked your hair back any tighter you’d be a shoe-in for a spot in a nice lady boy film. At least you got that going for ya, I guess. I mean who am I to judge? I fucked a werewolf for fuck sakes. But even that isn’t as fucked up as your shitty little title run Cage. Much like Bam, you were squeezed into this match despite nobody really caring if you got your precious rematch. But nobody wants to see you get bullied so here you fuckin’ are.
Marf quietly applauds but his body language makes it clear this is a sarcastic response. Kinda rude but we’ve come this far.
And onto the man of the hour. Or with the pace these two fuckwads carved out prior to him, the man of the minute. Reggie Estrada. You know, the guy from high school you always saw at the back of the building hackin’ darts while averaging a solid D plus. After a slow and mostly useless year, here you are holding the Xtreme belt again. And once again everyone is scratching their heads wondering how you got the damn thing. Hell, can you even explain what you’re doing holding onto that belt, Reg?
You know what, I don’t give a fuck what you have to say about that. Your explanation will likely be even more confusing than your shit stained hair. It’s okay to shower more than once a month bud. Fuck, I’m gonna need to deep clean the Xtreme title once I take it from you. Looks like third time won’t be the charm Reg. No title defense, no going down in a blaze of glory this year. Just you laying beside Bam Bam and Johnny Cage while I walk away with the title. Hey, at least you can cuddle with two dudes instead of one after it’s all over.
Marf shrugs and raises his hands defensively.
Really you can do whatever the fuck you want after I whip your ass in Iceland, Reg. All three of you for that matter. Reggie can go back to writing incoherent diss tracks while collecting cigarette butts or whatever shit he does. Coleman can go back to showing up at cosplay events and jerking Lui Kangs off for five bucks a pop or whatever the fuck his day job is. Bam Miller can go back to kissing Chris Page’s ass while being told how original he is for his usage of a beer slogan. Basically what I’m saying to everyone is quite simple…
Marf leans in and points directly into the camera while giving the signature evil smirk.
I am taking the Xtreme title and there is not a god damn thing any of you can do to stop me. Fuckin’ simple!
And just like that, we are fading out of this bitch.
2x Xtreme Champion
2x Television Champion
2x Freestyle Champion
5x Heavy Metal Weight Champion
Member of Charlie’s Carnies
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