Cue the lights, cue the camera, cue the dramatic music. The next XWF Universal Champion is in the studio today and he is fully dressed for the job he wants. Decked out from head-to-toe in his finest clothing, Charlie knows that his fancy Hawaiin shirt will really make an impact statement on your screens. He’s not quite sure what that statement is, but he just knows that he’s dressed to impress absolutely everyone. Seated on a wooden stool in front of a studio screen, Charlie cocks his head to the side as he looks into the eyes of the fragile children sitting on the other side of the screen.




The camera slowly zooms in on Charlie’s upper body as he cracks a gentle half-smile. The Nickleman leans forward as he speaks in a soft, almost fatherly tone.

You kids ever hear the fable of The Three Little Pigs?

I like it. I like that story a whole lot. It’s my favorite fairytale, right next to Dolly Waters’ sobriety. My favorite fairytales are always about power, about the ways the strong abuse the weak. Whether it is Dolly’s bad-touch Daddy or the big bad wolf, the strong always take what they want. Those are the stories I like to tell…so why don’t you kids sit right back, and I’ll tell you the tale of The Three Little Pigs and the big bastardly wolf!”

Charlie throws his head back in cackling laughter as his background music starts really jamming.

“Well the first little piggy came straight from Japan. An everyday wagyu, this little freak always dreamed of becoming the golden cow. He spent every day just a’ dreaming, his head in the stars and his mind with the saints, dreaming of a future that was never going to come. He built his house out of old comic books and thought the heroes on the pages would keep him safe. What a fool. When the big bastardly wolf came for him, those old comics collapsed like a house of cards. The first little piggy never could figure out how to keep himself safe from the big wolf.

And the second little piggy, well she was super stoked to be a’ strokin’. She made her way through this world giving handies for handouts. She was always lazy and flakey, cause she spent most of her days just a’ tokin’ and a’ smokin’. The second little piggy would shoot more lines up her nose than out her mouth, she was so thin there was almost no meat on her bones at all…that’s why she never even bothered to build herself a house. She thought the big bastardly wolf would never come for her, because she had nothing worth taking. The second little piggy was wrong, of course. When the big wolf finally came for her, she let out a big ol’ holler.

But that third little piggy, well…."

Charlie Nickles leaned back on his wooden stool as he scratched his head. He listened closely to the background music behind him as it hit the third verse. Charlie let the words in the third verse sink in before squinting hatefully at someone off screen.

“HEY, CUT THE FUCKING MUSIC! CUT THE FUCKING MUSIC! Who the fucked picked this shitty song? These screeching idiots don’t know what the fuck they’re talking about, they don’t know how this story is going to end!

That third little piggy can suck my dick, cause I’m going to get his ass next!

Cut the fucking music Amy, cut the fucking music! I don’t care how much Vinnie Lane paid to license it, the song fucking sucks!”

Charlie hopped off his seat and gestured erratically at someone off screen until the music was abruptly switched off. Charlie gave the people behind the camera one more hateful glare before sitting back down on the wooden steal they provided for him.

”You fucking idiots always want me to do something frilly and theatrical. Fuck all that esoteric bullshit you wanted me to give you! This is my promo, damn it! That means we do things my way! You fucking behind the camera always want me to incorporate some story your writing team cooked up, like that kind of shit is going to drive ratings? Just give me a fucking fork and let me rip open bitch’s assholes, that’s how you’re really going to drive ratings!”

Charlie shakes his head from side to side as he derides the XWF production team orchestrating this mandated promo from behind the camera. Charlie runs his hands through his mangy hair before sighing and sitting up on his seat.

”Just keep those fucking cameras rolling and watch a madman feast, eh?"

Charlie gives an uncomfortable wink to someone off camera before he imitates the cocking of a sidearm pistol.

”I think it’s time to start shooting bitches up, don’t y'all? And fuck, if we’re shooting up bitches, who better to start with than the bitch that likes to shoot up the most?”

Charlie pretends to lift up a pistol pointed at the camera. He closes one of his eyes as he aims down the sights, then he imitates pulling a trigger.

”Bang bang, Dolly baby."

Charlie lowers his invisible sidearm as he stares into the camera with an eager grin.

”Did ya’ll know Dolly Waters was the worst damn Carnie I ever drafted. I was really thinking with the wrong head when I took her in round two. I should have done what every other team Captain chose to do….not draft Dolly Waters! Between her trauma and her addictions, there’s barely a husk of a woman left in that shell. She doubts herself, even when she thinks she doesn’t, because that nagging voice in the back of her head is always reminding her that she just isn’t good enough. She can ignore the voice for a while, but eventually she feels compelled to answer its call. It’s why she always flakes, like an old painting no one wants to look at anymore. It’s why she tucks her tail and runs away crying every four months, like god damned clockwork.

Half my time leading up to War Games was spent keeping an eye on Dolly, to prevent her from cutting her fucking wrists and bleeding out before the big show. Me, Marf, and our Main bitch had to take rotating shifts with her just so Dolly wouldn’t be left alone with her thoughts. She just can’t shake that seemingly all-powerful voice of failure, that voice of pained resentment she carries with her, always. Maybe it has to do with how she was raised, I don’t know, I came from a loving Christian household…but shit, I know that Dolly got herself addicted to daddy dick at age five or whatever the fuck, and we all know that scarred the bitch for life. It’s no wonder she liked being on my War Games team so much, I got 9 thick inches of daddy dick that just don’t quit! There’s enough for all the jailbait to get a taste! I had bitches lining up for savage poundings every Saturday night for the last 6 months, so of course Dolly loved doing what she had to do on my casting couch to get drafted! That girl loved being my carnie, and all that it entailed. I told her to jump, she said ‘how high?’. I told her to smoke that meth, she said “can I shoot it instead?”. I told her to bend over, she said “yes daddy”, and even still, that dumb bitch was the worst Carnie I ever drafted.

Dolly Waters is about as useful as a dildo in a gunfight. You’re going to get yourself killed if you go to war with her, you can’t fuck anyone up with a dildo, you can only fuck yourself. My Carnies would have been better served sending our Main bitch to the finals alone, that way he wouldn’t have wasted his efforts saving her sorry hide. Dolly Waters only got as far as she did because all the men agreed we needed to look out for her, because we knew going in that she would never be able to pull her own weight, no matter how dainty she is. Fuck, what did Dolly ever do on her own as a Carnie? Lose the X-treme championship we won for her?

All she had to do for the team was pin Alias. I mean, how hard could that possibly be? If you listen to the talk around town Charlie Nickles is one of the worst wrestlers on the roster, and even HE was able to pin Alias! For a championship belt no less! Geez, Dolly…no wonder you hear that nagging voice in the back of your head. You ARE a failure. You ARE a disappointment. You HAVE potential, but you've never even TASTED greatness. Will you ever close that gap? I wouldn’t bet on it, and neither would that voice you hear. The only thing I bet Dolly’s going to do is RELAPSE, as soon as she hears the carnie truth about her biggest wrestling accomplishment in YEARS.

After War Games The Nickleman went on to set records and fuck pussies. After War Games Dolly Waters went on to flake mid-tour, like always, to go….suck some uncle-dick? Or whatever the fuck RL Edgar had her doing during her disappearance. Edgar got tired of losing so he quit wrestling. So why do I still have to see him on my TV?!?! What the hell is he now, her god damned manager or something? Is he Dolly’s new daddy? The bitch disappointed her carnie father one too many times so I cut her loose, and then I guess she had to get herself a new uncle-daddy. I’m telling you: the childhood trauma fucking broke that bitch.

Dolly Waters ain’t the type of woman that’s built to succeed in professional wrestling. All she’s built to do is suck seed from professional wrestlers, I mean shit, just ask Corey and Thad how much they respect Dolly’s mouth game! She laid on her back for Thaddeus at his going away party, she even laid on her back for Ring Master at his surprise party! When folks pay for a view, Dolly Waters is the easiest girl you’ll ever meet. She might as well become an OnlyFans star at this point!

Dolly Waters isn’t going to be the next Universal champion, not now, not ever. She just doesn’t have Sarah Lacklan vibes. The poise, the confidence, the prestige: Dolly just doesn’t have it, all she has is the blonde hair, and honestly, her hair is a lot thinner than Lacklan’s! In truth, Dolly’s been slowly turning herself into a knock-off Jenny Myst for the last half a year. A slutty blonde with mental health issues? Check. Might have killed her own mother? Check. Can’t do anything on her own, always needs a friend with her? Check. Never once beaten Charlie Nickles? Checkfuckingmate.

Just like I handed Jenny Myst the TV championship, I handed Dolly Waters the X-treme championship. Is that bitch really expecting me to hand her the universal championship, too?! Fucking women, entitled bitches, they always want something from you! First it’s Jenny Myst with the ear, then it’s Connie with the child support, and now it’s fucking Dolly Water wanting me to give her another championship belt! Who the hell do these bitches think I am, Captain Save A Hoe? Dolly ain’t no Goldi, she just put a lot of golden teeth in her jaw because she couldn’t handle her meth mouth. Her body, like her mind, is weak and easily susceptible to the type of toxicity The Nickleman cooks up!

What did Dolly Waters even do to earn her spot in this match? Lose on back-to-back pay per views? Superkick Alias with all her might and FAIL to even scuff his chin? Send some naughty pics to Chris Page and Theo Pryce? Dolly Waters…headlining a mega-show? You’ve got to be kidding me. That’s going to go to her head, just like every other line she snorts! That’s going to get her killed, if one of those lines she’s snorting doesn’t do the trick first!

You know Dolly Waters must be back on that shmack, heavy-dosing H, if she’s really telling everyone that she’s going to beat Charlie Nickles for the universal championship. The only thing Dolly Waters is going to beat is IT, after my hand is raised in victory next month! Even if Dolly Waters is sober now, she won’t stay that way after I put her sorry ass on injured reserve. When I put her broken body back on the bench, the doctor’s going to put that little fiend back on those painkillers. And when that prescription runs out, it’s just a quick drive to the nearest street pharmacist! You know she never flakes on them!

Dolly Waters may as well be a punching bag at this point in her career, which is a travesty, cause I’m not even sure that girl’s reached the legal drinking age! But still, even a blind man can see that Dolly’s best days in the XWF are behind her. I had 20 years in pro wrestling before I signed to the XWF, 20 years that prepared me to reign at the top for 20 more. Dolly didn’t even have 20 years in life before she signed to the XWF, so she only had a 20 month shelf-life in these X-treme conditions. It’s no wonder Dolly expired well before her potential ever ripened."

Charlie spit a watery loogy onto the ground before wiping away some excess saliva from his cracked lips. The Nickleman looks off to the side as he lowers his head, shaking it side to side, almost as if he were mourning the wasted potential of Dolly Waters. After a few seconds Charlie lifts his gaze back up before staring directly into the camera.

"Shoot, Dolly Waters might as well be Raion Kido! Neither one will ever reach the peak of greatness, no matter how many fools will it to be from the sidelines. The simple truth is that as long as I’m around, there is a permanent glass ceiling in place for the likes of the kiddo and his dolly. Alias probably thinks he’s my glass ceiling, too: but if the glass cracks when you put a heavy metal weight on the ceiling, well then it was never really limestone at all: it was always just sugar glass. And baby I can break sugar glass away piece by piece, tile by tile, title by title, just like I always have!"

Charlie gestures wildly as he imitates the pulling apart of tiles. He starts to froth at the mouth as his imitations grow more and more erratic, as he remembers every tile he has ripped out of Alias’s foundation. A couple streams of sweat begin dripping off The Nickleman’s forehead, and eventually he calms down before leaning back on his seat. He quickly runs a sweaty hand through his unwashed hair before looking back into the camera.

"Raion Kido tried to take this life from me, and he walked away a lesser man. I failed to rip the universe away from Alias, and I walked away more determined than ever. When I knock Raion Kido down, he slinks away for months on end. When Alias knocks me down I get right back up, and immediately begin hounding him for the next round. I will never be down for the count, but everyone knows I can put Raion Kido down, for literal months, before he ever dares speak to me again.

The reason for this difference?

I know I can beat Alias, and Raion Kido knows he can’t beat me. The only reason Raion dared enter into this match was because it’s a multi-man affair. Raion Kido is on his knees right now, praying to that cosmic force out there, hoping he can beat someone else so that he can finally beat me. He knows he will never get one over on The Nickleman, so he’s praying he can sneak one over on Dolly fucking Waters.

HA! FAT FUCKING CHANCE!

Maybe Raion COULD have beaten me, back when his HEART was pure…but now? There’s no chance in hell for that wayward boy scout.

That Kiddo was never the same again after our barbed-wire deathmatch. You can tell it in his demeanor, you can tell from the way he walks. He’s carrying a bastard-sized chip on his shoulder, he’s got a bastard-sized scar on his face, he’s got a bastard-sized hole in his heart. He can cover up the scar I left on his face with make-up, but he can never cover up the holes I shot through his heart, twice. Everyone can see it, they can hear it in his voice. Raion went from boy scouts to murder plots, all in the span of a few matches with The Nickleman. One more Devil Hook Drop and that little angel may just turn to a demon!

Mr. Sunshine and Rainbows started lashing out at everyone after he lost to The Nickleman. Nowadays Raion likes to grab a hold of unsuspecting bystanders by the ankles before dragging them into the mud with him, as if somehow that’s going to unsettle The Nickleman. You can hear it every time Raion Kido opens his mouth, you can see it with every step he takes in this federation. Everytime Raion Kido gets thrown into The Nickleman’s filth he starts dragging others down with him and using them as human shields. As if the body of a man like Thunder Knuckles could ever slow down The Nickleman.

I beat Thunder Knuckles one-on-one for a championship belt. I beat Thunder Knuckles one-on-two with Jim fucking Jimson slowing me down. I beat Thunder Knuckles one-on-ten in a battle royale, you know, the same one where I threw Bobby Bourbon over the top rope and out of the competition!

At March Madness Raion got past Tee-Kay but he couldn’t get past Bobby. I got past BOTH of them, just a few months into my first XWF contract. I single-handedly beat both members of TNGB at the same time, so I better not hear any shit about being BOB’s ‘weakest link’, or about Raion being ‘better than Charlie Nickles’. That kind of nonsense will get your lion’ teeth knocked out! I already defanged you, Raion, so don’t make me come back for your molars too!

Shit, I want to watch Raion Kido try and take on both members of TNGB at the same time! Let’s see how that goes for him! Hell, I’d pay just to watch him take on EITHER member of TNGB in a true one-on-one, cause they’d both whip his ass six ways to Sunday! Raion got a once-in-a-lifetime upset over a distracted Tee-Kay at March Madness, and then he got lucky in a six-man and touched the briefcase before Bobby Bourbon. I guarantee you he is going to run his mouth about those victories, FOR MONTHS, probably in every damn match he has! He’s probably going to say those victories will catapult him over The Nickleman once and for all!

HA! FAT FUCKING CHANCE!

I want to see how that math works out, because I’m pretty damn sure Raion was only ever able to do HALF of what I did, and he was only able to do THAT with a divided field! Raion Kido’s a bitch, he ain’t on shit, he’s nothing special. At least he got his nickname right though, cause that Kiddo is always a lyin’."

Charlie Nickles can’t help but laugh at that last line. Charlie chuckles softly before shaking his head and rolling his eyes. Then, he turns his gaze back towards the camera.

"But The Nickleman? Pffft.

Alias is going to learn that I’m not a lyin’ when I say I’m going to skin his hide, cause I’m not little Raion. When I enter that ring I won’t be kidding around, I won’t be looking to beat someone else so that I can beat Alias. I’m looking to beat Alias until his sorry ass is so black and blue he starts forgetting where he is and trying to find fucking Nemo! Alias can clack his heels together as much as he wants, but this Dorothy won’t be going nowhere by the time I’m done!

What a fucking joke. That’s all Alias’s second title reign has been: a big fucking joke.

Now I know what you’re thinking, ‘Alias beat Charlie twice, so how could he be a joke?’...well, you answered the question yourself! HE KEEPS HAVING TO FIGHT CHARLIE NICKLES! And if I’m a joke, the fuck does that make that belt around his waist? The only primetime matches Alias will ever have on this run, will have been against Charlie Nickles! And the guy Charlie Nickles wiped the floor with, and the girl Charlie Nickles drafted out of the dumpster! What a fucking joke! At this rate Alias might as well leave wrestling all together and just get into stand-up comedy like his idol, Mitch Hedberg!

A stand-up comedy tour might even fit Alias’s work schedule better. All he likes to do is film little videos and upload them to the net, hell, he could make a lot more money doing that if he switched industries! The big paydays in this business only come on the tour, and fuck, our universal champion just can’t find the time to tour anymore, can he? Hell, our universal champion doesn’t even have any MERCHANDISE in the XWF store! I guess when you never show up, people never want to buy your shit. What a disappointment for all those fans out there, having a universal champion that isn’t even worth putting on a fucking T-shirt."

Charlie shakes his head in feigned disappointment with the universal champion. A few strands of mangy brown hair fall over his face, but Charlie pushes them to the side before looking back into the camera and carrying on his diatribe.

"Some people think I’m egotistical because I say I can beat Alias- because I KNOW I can beat Alias (again)! Funny, everyone said the exact same thing before I beat Granger, Duke, Caedus, Centurion and every other motley crue son of a bitch on the payroll. Everyone laughs when you say The Nickleman talks out of his ass…until he holds you down and blasts a wet fart inside of your ear, just to make sure that you can hear him. That’s when they usually stop laughing.

Does Alias have an achilles heel? Truthfully I don’t know, and honestly I don’t care! I’m not going to sit back on my laurels with a crossbow and wait for the perfect shot. I’m going to take a hammer and start smashing every bone I can pick with him, again and again and again, until I finally break off the biggest piece of his wishbone! I don’t care if it takes three tries, ten tries, or a hundred tries: I know that blonde bitch can’t live forever, and I plan to be the last thing he ever sees!

Alias bleeds and cries just like every other ape on this planet. He is flesh and bone, no different than you or I. He’s not invincible, he’s not impervious, no matter what he may lead you to believe. Alias puts out these lies, this ‘Master of the Universe’ nonsense, because he knows just how fragile his spot at the top really is. He knows that one of these days someone is going to come along and kick dirt on his castle in the sand. In fact, he knows that most days someone is going to do that! No wonder he hates showing up to work so much, everytime he does he gets his ass kicked and his ego bruised!

Someone is always kicking dirt on Alias’s castle made of sand.

It was Jim Jimson at March Madness.

It was Charlie Nickles on Savage.

It was Marf on Warfare.

It was Jenny Myst at Leap of Faith.

It was Marf, predictably, on Warfare again.

And it’s Charlie Nickles, again, right now, predictability coming to bash Alias’s face in until his nose and his brain switch places!

The fact of the matter is no one respects our universal champion anymore, and that’s why everyone is stepping up to take a shot at Alias’s dome, everyfuckingtime he shows his face in the XWF. It’s no wonder he wouldn’t take any public bookings before the Cannabis Cup: he knows if he puts his name on the card, the Bastards will put his face in the dirt! The only match Alias was willing to take before the Cup was against Big Preesh, on Madness, in a surprise showing…a surprisingly pathetic showing.

What a fucking joke.

Charlie Nickles has headlined back-to-back Warfares since I bumped heads with Alias. Meanwhile, Mr. ‘Master of the Universe’ couldn’t even headline Monday fucking Madness in his lone showing.

What a fucking joke.

But you know what the funniest joke is? When Alias did show up on Madness, do you know who he was talking about?

FUCKING CHARLIE NICKLES!

You know why?

BECAUSE ALIAS’S CHAMPIONSHIP REIGN HAS BEEN ALL ABOUT CHARLIE NICKLES, DAY IN AND DAY OUT!

But people around here want to say I’m the biggest joke? That position is starting to seem untenable.

They might damn well choose to put my name on the belt even if Alias wins, because it’s my name that defines his championship reign. I’m the fleas this sick dog just can’t shake, he’s going to scratch his own fucking eye out trying to kick me off his back! If Alias thinks that belt means something to him, he should be able to sympathize without how much I mean to it!

Without me, Alias’s second championship reign wouldn’t exist. From the embryo to the grave, I have been the man shepherding his championship reign along every step of the way. I inseminated it, I raised it, and I’m the man that’s going to snuff it out prematurely. I guess that must make me Alias’s baby daddy, huh? I guess him and Dolly can take turns eating their own bullshit off my daddy-dick, they can trade it back and forth, we could even call it 2 girls 1 Cannabis Cup!

Oh, I forgot we have a slew of new viewers this week! So hell…let me break down this 6 month history for you the only way I know how….with a long-winded diatribe!

We got War Games coming up next on the XWF calendar, but fuck a pay per view, I’ve been ahead of this curve for half a year. I was playing War Games with Jim Caedus back in January, and when he finally snapped Peter Vaughn was there to lick up my sloppy seconds. That’s where the seeds of Alias’s new reign were planted, in the bosom of the transitional champion I created. Peter Vaughn was supposed to defend against The Nickleman after Fire and Ice, but he saw the flame I was bringing and he froze in place. He chose to roll the dice against Alias instead, and we all saw how that played out.

Ever since Alias had his hand raised in victory, I made sure that his second championship reign would never be taken as seriously as his first. I sent Jim Jimson out there, and he slapped the champ around like a back-alley whore. Then, I came out on the very next Savage and told Alias exactly what the fuck this was, and I haven’t changed my M.O. since. Alias’s reign can’t be taken seriously, because The Nickleman has been the one main eventing Savage after Savage, Warfare after Warfare, walking away from every cable show a happy man with a smiling face. But Alias? He’s not main eventing shit, not unless my name is across from his! Alias is walking away from these cable shows like a battered housewife, too ashamed to admit what a bastard just did!

Whenever Alias appears on screen you know that The Nickleman, or one of his brothers, is waiting in the wings to clock his fucking jaw. Alias knows it, too…that’s why he doesn’t appear on your screens if he doesn’t have to! He likes to hide in his otherworld, hide from the shows, hide from the bastards! That stupid motherfucker thought he could step to me after I crippled Tommy Wish on Warfare, and how’d that end? IT ENDED WITH MY TAG-TEAM PARTNER RAMMING A CHAIR INTO HIS SKULL AND SHOVING A DIRTY FIST DOWN HIS THROAT! I bet he didn’t see that shit coming when he started running his mouth after MY main event!

BUT HE SHOULD HAVE!

That prick likes to think he’s so clever and articulate, but somehow the son of a bitch must’ve never learned to count! On Warfare we saw 4 bastards on the X-tron during the tag match. Then, Alias came down to the ring after the main event to confront 1 victorious bastard. Where the hell did he think the other 3 were?!?! Did he think they all went home?! MARF made ALIAS look like BIG PREESH out there! But folks want to say I’M the joke, right? How funny.

Alias went to bat on Monday Madness, but by the time Wednesday Warfare rolled around The Carnie Bastards were the only ones hitting home runs! Lil’ Al said what happened to Big Preesh was a warning, a reminder: it’s just a damn shame he forgot that the reminder was for HIMSELF!!! It was a reminder of what happens when champions play on the D brand. They get lazy, right Alias?

And a lazy dog just won’t fucking hunt.

But I will.

To me, it’s always the first day of pheasant season. I’m pulling on the chain, I’m frothing at the mouth, I’m licking my fucking chops and begging to be let off the leash. I bark loud baby, and I make tweeter birds fly away when I start kicking up dirt. If you think my bite won’t match my bark, just come and test me baby. Put your hand in my cage and see what happens.

Raion Kido knows what happens when I get ta’ hunting. He knows it well.

Alias knows what happens when I get ta’ hunting, too; I promise he knows it well because I’ve made sure of it. He’s been flighty ever since we locked horns, and that’s because this chicken is ducking me! Tell me you’ll make a public appearance on the next Warfare, Alias, and I’ll book you a hospital bed in Columbus right fucking now!

I’LL BE IN OHIO FOR WARFARE, ALIAS!

I’ll be in the goddamned main event, in my home state, on home turf! So where the fuck is the universal champion going to be?

COME SEE ME ON WARFARE, ALIAS!

The one I’m main eventing. Yeah, just like you came out and saw me last week, on that other Warfare I was main eventing! Don’t do what you did on the send-off show for Leap of Faith, yeah you know that Savage I was main eventing, the one where you refused to show your face!

You can get it however the hell you want it in Columbus, lil’ Al. Before my match, after my match, during my match, I don’t give a single god damned fuck. You can come out with Flynn and his bitch to make it a 3 on 2 handicap match for the tag titles, I’ll fucking take it, if it means you promise to show your fucking face in Columbus.

So where are you going to be on Wednesday night, Alias? Mr. Uni Champ? Ohio’s a great state, you should come visit sometime. You should come visit Wednesday night. Unless….you’re scared? I noticed in our little ‘universal rules’ match, you never transported us to the Buckeye state, not even once. Is it because you’ll only fight me if you have home field advantage? I know, I know, I’m reaching...reaching out to smack you through the fucking screen!

So why don’t you come lay all my nonsense to rest on Wednesday night, Alias? Come. To. Columbus. I don’t know if I could spell out any clearer what you have to do, Alias. Just show your face- and let’s see what happens. But if you don’t want to come see me in Columbus, well, I guess everyone will see first-hand just how empty, absent, and irrelevant our ‘master of the universe’ really is.

If Alias is smart he will stay his ass home on Wednesday night- but if Alias is brave, he’ll come to the show. Shit, I really hope his balls drop before Warfare, because I got something special planned for Alias in Columbus. After Warfare people might be calling ME ‘Doc Ock’, because I’ll have 8 hands beating on Alias at once.

Did you know some scientists say that our bodies are constantly changing, always renewing and regenerating dead cells? After 7 years the average person is made up of entirely new stuff, from head-to-toe…and that’s exactly why I want to see Alias this Wednesday. I’m trying to accelerate that process as fast as I can! I’m bleeding Alias out, I’m cutting Alias up, I’m knocking Alias down, I’m ripping his hide from side to side…his body has gone through 7 years of torment in just 7 weeks!

Is Alias still the same man he was at March Madness, or have my constant attacks worn him down? I know he keeps the same alias, but his body has continually deteriorated every time I laid hands on it. Maybe he doesn’t show up on cable anymore because his new and reduced body just can’t handle the workload. Alias is clearly going to go the way of the Caedus, he’s just taking a little bit longer to actually go there! But that’s ok, The Nickleman is a patient man. I can afford to wait Alias out for months on end, 7 years at a time! Match after match I’ll wear him down, with haymaker after haymaker I’ll knock him down and drag him out. It’s only a matter of time. Alias will never be the same again…"

Charlie Nickles tugged anxiously at his bearded chin, pulling on the uncombed hair eagerly, as if he couldn’t wait to get his hands on Alias again.

"If I had a gun with three bullets I’d shoot ALIAS three times, then I’d pistolwhip Raion while Dolly watched and cheered me on, all the while begging for another chance to be my carnie. Dolly just wants another crack at being a carnie, Raion just wants another crack in his skull, and Alias is just terrified because he knows I can see all the cracks growing across his glass ceiling. Heh…I guess the three little piggies aren’t that different after all, are they?"

The camera starts fading out on a shot of Charlie Nickles cracking a big ol’ grin. The Nickleman blows a wet and sloppy kiss to the audience as the screen almost goes completely black….

Then a high-pitched voice can be heard yelling out from behind the camera.

“AAAAAAND CUT! GREAT JOB, CHARLIE! I’m sure we’ll be able to use at least 30 seconds of that for some kind of montage clip. After we trim it up and cut out some of the profanity, of course. I really wish you would have stuck to the script, but I think we might still be able to do something with this footage…not sure what, though. But maybe something.”

The camera fades back to life as it switches perspectives. We see a petite asian woman sitting in a director’s chair with a megaphone up to her lips as dozens of XWF production assistants man the cameras and run wildly around her.

“Hey, do whatever the fuck you want. I don’t give a damn about these little video vignettes Vinnie Lane makes us do to promote shit.”

Charlie steps off the stool as he begins to walk off the set, passing by the director as he heads for the studio exit. The woman puts the megaphone on her lap as she flashes a grateful smile over to The Nickleman.

“We’re just happy you could make it to the studio in person for this. Nowadays it seems like most of our top stars are doing that ‘work from home’ thing, they just send in an audio clip from their phone and expect that to pass muster.”

Charlie walks past the director as she is speaking. When she’s done, Charlie turns his head around to briefly address the director one last time.

“Hey, darling? I really don’t give a shit. If you’re going to keep your top on, you can keep your lips shut. Thanks.”

The rampant disrespect takes the woman by complete shock, causing her eyes to pop out of their sockets as her mouth slacks to the ground. Charlie gives her a dismissive wave of the hand as he continues walking towards the studio exit. As The Nickleman nears the door he snatches a plate of little pretzel dogs out of the hands of a caterer.

“Hey, you’re only supposed to take two…”

“I take what I want!”

With the pretzel dog plate in one hand, Charlie raises his free hand as if he’s going to pimp slap the mouthy caterer. The caterer quickly gets out of dodge before The Nickleman unloads on their face. As they flee from the terror, Charlie can’t help but crack a sicko’s grin.

“That’s what I fucking thought.”

Charlie chuckles under his breath as he carries the plate of little pretzel dogs through the door, finally walking through the studio exit after fervently disrespecting just about everyone the XWF keeps on staff these days. As Charlie walks through the door he pops into a small hallway that resembles the backstage area of a midsized arena. The Nickleman starts popping the dogs into his mouth, one by one and two by two, as he starts rounding corners in the backstage maze.

After Charlie wolfs down the dogs he simply drops the plate in the middle of the hallway, letting it shatter on the ground as he walks away. The Nickleman starts rubbing his greasy fingers all over his Hawaiin shirt before rounding one last corner and heading for a solitary door at the long end of the hall. A framed placard on the side of the door reads ‘Main Event Locker Room’. Charlie starts shaking his head from side to side as he places a gentle hand on the door and pushes it open.

“Why do my long days at work keeping getting longer and fucking longer? Those sons of bitches are always wanting more from me. They want me to headline show after show, cut promo after promo, fuck pussy after pussy….I better be racking up hella’ vacation days with all these double-shifts they got me pulling!”

As Charlie bitches about his working conditions he steps into an elaborate locker room filled with every luxury an athlete could ever desire. A fully-stocked healthy snack bar, a fridge full of waters and various sports drinks, huge TV screens with complete cable packages, and even an XWF-branded hot tub. Around the room are framed portraits of some of the best wrestlers to ever lace up their boots: James Raven, Vinnie Lane, Gator, you know the like.

Charlie doesn’t really care about any of that bullshit, though. He’s never needed luxury and comfort, all he’s ever wanted is his proper recognition. He’s worked hard enough for it, hasn't he? The Nickleman walks over to a small circular table set up in the corner. On top of the table rests a pink Iphone and a hefty bag of familiar brown powder.

Charlie takes a seat at the table as he starts checking his phone for notifications. His iphone shows him various Fox News headlines and suggests a couple right-wing youtube shows for him to watch, but it doesn’t show him what he’s looking for. Charlie opens up his text message application and refreshes it, only for nothing to change. He refreshes the app a few more times as a pained stress begins to settle into the creases on his face.

“Well…maybe they’re waiting until their whore mother goes to work before they send me a father’s day text…or maybe even give me a father’s day call! Yeah, that must be what it is…”

Charlie shakes his head up and down forcefully, almost like he’s trying to convince himself that his kids will reach out to him on this special day. Charlie looks at the time on his phone as he bites his lower lip, causing a small trail of blood to run from his mouth to his chin.

“Well….Connie probably isn’t leaving for another half hour or so, so I guess I have some time to kill before Tyler and Emily call.”

The absent father turns the volume on his phone all the way up before pushing the phone to the edge of the table. Then, he turned his focus to the baggy of brown powder. He pulled a small razor blade out of his pocket before clacking it against the table and opening up the powder bag.

“Now let’s see if that shit poor Cheddar gave me is worth a damn.”

Charlie uses the razor to pick up a good deal of brown powder from the bag. He dumps the powder resting atop the blade onto the table before shaping it into one thick line. Charlie clacks the blade against the table a few more times before placing the blade adjacent to the beginning of the powder line.

“It’s time to fly, baby!”

The Nickleman presses his face against the table as he holds one nostril up to the blade. He uses his free hand to close his other nostril before he begins snorting up the line he set. Charlie drags his nose across the table, sniffing up the entire line before dropping the blade and letting out a wild scream.

“WWWWWOOOOOOOOOAAAAAAAAAHHHHHH YEAH BABY! THAT SHIT BURNS MY BRAIN….THAT’S HOW YOU FUCKING KNOW CHEDDAR AL HAD THE SHITS!”

Charlie starts smacking himself in the head, causing the residual powder to fly off the edge of his nose. Charlie uses his other fist to pound the table as he holds his eyes shut and grimaces tightly.

“OHHHHHHHH FUCK! THAT’S GOOD!”

Charlie gives himself one final smack to the face before he’s finally able to settle down a bit. A big red mark appears on his cheek, but Charlie doesn’t mind at all, he’s actually loving it. Charlie blinks his eyes furiously as he feels his veins constricting, like internal anacondas, squeezing off the blood flow to his various organs. Charlie’s lips turn pale as he hears a sudden ringing in both ears.

“God damn….”

Beads of sweat begin appearing all over The Nickleman’s body, mixing with his natural grime before dripping disgustingly to the floor of the locker room. Charlie wipes away a literal sheet of perspiration from his forehead as he leans all the way back in his chair. He kicks his legs out under the table until his feet touch the wall.

“I haven’t been this high since Sarah Lacklan knocked me off that fucking ladder…”

Charlie rubbed his eyes with his hands, cringing a bit as he accidentally rubbed sweat and pretzel grease into them. He pounded his fists on the table before leaning forward and shaking his head from side to side, as if trying to expel the new filth from his eyeballs. As Charlie is caught in the early stages of yet another drug overdose, he hears a sudden ringing from his phone.

“My kids!”

Charlie pops his red and runny eyes open as he reaches for the pink Iphone laying on the edge of the table. Lacking full control of his motor functions, however, The Nickleman accidentally knocks the phone onto the ground.

“FUCK!”

Charlie leaps out of his chair and under the table as he tries to answer his phone before the call ends. The Nickleman picks up his iphone before flipping it over and seeing a slew of new cracks across the glass screen.

“Damn it!”

The screen images on his screen appear twisted and morphed, missing colors, almost staticy in some places. Charlie puts his finger on the cracked screen and tries to accept the call with muscle memory.

“Shit on a dick!”

Charlie pulls his finger back and sees that a shard of glass has embedded itself in his finger. As blood starts oozing out from around the glass, Charlie brings his finger up to his mouth. He bites on the glass before quickly pulling his bloody finger away. Charlie shivers as he feels the embedded shard slide out of his soft tissue. Charlie spits the glass out as his finger starts leaking blood all over the floor.

By now the call has been forwarded to voicemail. Charlie listens in eagerly as the voicemail begins to play over the speakerphone in real time. The Nickleman cocks his head to the side as distorted sounds begin playing through his phone.


“What the-...what kind of scam call is this?”

As Charlie listened to the unsettling message a woman’s voice began to speak sweetly to him through the distorted audio.

“Your daughter…is missing. She needs a hero. She needs a champion to save her. He has her, she is here with him, in our otherworld. The freaks are out and about, Charles, and your daughter needs her father now more than ever. Only you can save her, Charles. Only you can clear the darkness from around her. Meet her at the Cup, Charles. She will be there, waiting for you, like she has been for twenty years. Meet her at the Cup, Charles, and be the champion she needs!

YOU MUST GO NOW TO SAVE HER!”

Charlie hears a sudden click as the voicemail ends.

“Oh no….someone must have Emily! No wonder no one's called to wish me a happy father’s day!

I’M COMING FOR YOU, EMS! YOUR DADDY WILL BE THE CHAMPION YOU NEED!”

Charlie tucked his broken phone into his pocket as he ran out from under the table. Leaving his drugs on the table, The Nickleman rushes over to a little stand placed near the door. He grabs his keys and his wallet off the stand before opening the door and charging into the hallway. As Charlie storms through the backstage area he notices that everything looks a little different now. Everything looks a little more surreal, a little more colorful. The paint appears to be dancing on the walls, the tile flooring appears to be walking right alongside The Nickleman. The lights overhead keep changing colors like little disco balls hanging from the ceiling. Charlie wipes another sheet of perspiration off his forehead as he rushes through the surreal hallway.

Eventually The Nickleman reaches the exit door. Before he goes to push it, however, his attention is drawn to the blinking sign above the door. In all red letters the words ’DON’T EXIT’ are flashing on a sign hanging from the ceiling. Charlie thinks it’s weird, but drugs be like that sometimes, you know? So he pushes through the door anyways, exiting the safety of the arena and wandering into a parking lot that doesn’t look anything like it used to. Most of the cars look like spaceships, except for the bastard's red limo, which is now no longer stretched nor a hummer. Charlie scratches his head but doesn’t think too much of it before pressing the ‘unlock’ button on the car’s key fob.

Charlie opens the car door and scootches himself into the driver’s seat, which is for some reason pushed all the way forward. Charlie gingerly climbs between the seat and the steering wheel before pressing the button to make the seat move back. After Charlie is comfortably settled in he shuts the door and sticks the keys into the ignition. Charlie turns the key and the engine roars to life, but he pauses for a moment to ask himself a pressing question.

”Shit….where am I supposed to go? The Cannibus Cup isn’t for a month…”

The radio suddenly clicks on. That same distorted voice of a sweet woman calls out to The Nickleman from the car’s speaker system.

“Just press the gas, Charles. I’ll take care of all the rest. Remember: your daughter needs you.”

”I’m coming, EMS!”

Charlie presses the pedal to the medal as he places one of his hands on the steering wheel out of habit. As the red limo skkkrrrrts out of the parking lot, Charlie reaches into the center console and pulls out an open package of grape swishers. With his free hand, he opens the package and pulls out a half-smoked blunt. He places the blunt between his lips as he tosses the empty Swishers package to the floor atop dozens of empty beer cans and a few hotdog wrappers. As Charlie sparks the blunt the limo’s radio comes to life once more.

As the sweet melody plays Charlie inhales his ganga smoke. He looks out the window of the limo as the car hits the freeway and really starts hauling ass. As Charlie puffs on his blunt he passes by all the usual sights of the countryside: rows of unplucked golden cornfields, overfed cows resting on their flatulent laurels, ponds filled with murky water, and a setting sun. The Nickleman ashes his blunt in the car’s cup holder before exhaling one last puff of smoke.

As Charlie looks into the car’s rear view mirror he notices that his pupils are incredibly dilated and his face is shockingly pale. Dripping beads of perspiration cover every inch of him, and when he tries to wipe his face clean more sweat just seeps out through the porous holes in his flesh.

Charlie holds his eyes shut as he shakes his head from side to side, clearly trying to get a grip on himself. When Charlie opens his eyes, he sees a woman in green underwear struggling on the side of the road. Her face is covered by a Lucha mask and she is shackled to an empty bed frame lying along the side of the road. The iron chains around her wrists bound her to the bed, but she’s pulling on them with all her might. Still, she just can’t seem to free herself.

”What the fu-....was that real? No…that couldn’t have been real…I’m seeing things. I have to keep going…my daughter needs me!”

As Charlie averts his gaze to the other side of the highway he sees three familiar faces standing along the side of the road. A brunette woman huddles two children close to her body as she holds out a thumb, trying to catch a ride from any passerby. A young boy and girl stand on either side of their mother, tears of blood running down their faces as they cling to her for safety.

”Wait….are they…”

That same distorted voice plays over the music coming from the speakers as Charlie speeds past the abandoned family begging for help.

”They’re not real, Charles. They’re in the otherworld.”

”The otherworld? What the hell is that?”

”The place you must go to become a champion. The place you must go to save your daughter. The place I’m taking you, Charles.”

”But that looked like…."

”I know, Charles. I know.”

Charlie leaned back in his seat as he tried to ignore all the desperate people begging for his help in the rearview mirror. Charlie looked out over the long stretch of highway ahead of him as the sun finally set and the limo’s headlights automatically kicked on. He finally took his hand off the wheel, and the car kept on driving just the same. Charlie looked around the car suspiciously, as if something wasn’t right here.

”Wait…who are you? You’re not the shadow driver Marf brought to the Brotherhood, are you?”

”No, I’m not.”

Charlie narrowed his eyes as he stared at the radio console tucked into the car’s frontend.

”So who are you?”

The radio cut off as Charlie pressed the issue. Charlie waited a few seconds before looking around the car. Then, an angry scowl spread across his face. The Nickleman started smacking the car’s radio before screaming at it for answers.

”ANSWER ME, BITCH! WHEN I ASK YOU A QUESTION, YOU ANSWER ME! WHO ARE YOU?! WHO THE FUCK ARE YOU?!”

Charlie kept smacking the car’s radio, causing buttons to fly off every which way.

”ANSWER ME! ANSWER ME! ANSWER ME YOU BITCH!”

Charlie kept smacking the shit out of the radio until something in the road suddenly caught his dilated eyes. Charlie looked up just in time to see the limo barreling full speed at a figure that appeared in front of the car’s headlights out of nowhere. Standing in the middle of the road was an ebony woman, completely in the nude, with a large golden fro’ and the bush to match. Charlie’s eyes nearly popped on his head as he tried to slam on the car’s brakes, but it was all to no avail. He wasn’t in control here.

”Have you already forgotten who I am? Have you already abandoned your promise to me?”

The distorted voice came through the speakers as the woman in the middle of the road stared into Charlie’s eyes with pain and disappointment.

”NO!”

The limousine crashed head-on in the middle of the road, even as Charlie jerked the wheel to the side and slammed on the brakes. The sickening crash of metal and flesh echoed along the lonely highway, but there was no one around to hear. There was no one around to help. Charlie Nickles flew through the front windshield upon impact, losing consciousness as soon as his flying body was brought back down to earth. The ebony woman was gone just as quickly as she had appeared, like a thief in the night, running away with the last shreds of The Nickleman's sanity.