We all must take a Leap of Faith in ourselves at some point. Charlie Nickles took a Leap of Faith in himself amidst the golden sands of Dubai. Now he lays flat in the ring, like roadkill long past its expiration date.

Long after Jenny Myst had left, long after ALIAS had vanished, long after all the cameras had turned off and all the crew members went home…there he still was, laying completely still in the center of the squared circle. There are no lights and no music, just one shattered man, missing everything he’s ever had.

At this moment time felt like a vacuum to The Nickleman, sucking up all the grand castles he had ever made in the sand. What had lasted for so long was suddenly no more, and now, what even was the point? Without her golden touch, Charlie began to wonder where his life had gone wrong, and how exactly it was that he became the bloodsoaked man still laying in the ring. While his mind was racing through these thoughts at a thousand miles an hour, he still couldn’t find the will to move his body from the very spot it had fallen.

Then, the lights turned back on. Jim Jimson walked down the entrance ramp alongside Barney Green, each man carrying the handle of a wooden cart filled to the brim with dead bodies stacked atop each other. Lynx, Lycana, Jim Caedus, Betsy Granger, Osira Themis, Dallas Marshall, and even Cage Coleman are among the pile of rotting carcasses being dragged down the entrance ramp on the cart.





Bring out your dead! Bring out your dead!

Here's one.

As the rickety cart nears the ring Barney points at the bloody mess still laying flat on the mat.

I'm not dead!

Here, he says he's not dead!

Jimson and Barney look at each other with curious glances before they simultaneously roll under the bottom rope and into the squared circle. The two men then hop to their feet and approach The Nickleman, who Barney Green nudges in the face with his boot.

Yes he is.

I feel happy. I feel happy.

Jim and Barney looked between themselves as the bloody wreck on the ground began to sing.

I am not dead yet
I can dance and I can sing
I am not dead yet
I can do the Highland Fling

As Charlie sang his tune he continued to lay flat on his back, but his limbs did begin gyrating and shaking in a seemingly random fashion.

I am not dead yet
No need to go to bed
No need to call the doctor
Cause I'm not yet dead.

Barney and Jim look between each other with uncertainty, neither man quite sure what to do in this situation. While Charlie certainly looked like a dead chicken having a muscle spasm, he still sang those self-aggrandizing tunes he always loved so much. As Barney and Jimson took turns scratching the other’s head for each other, the bodies on the cart suddenly pop up and begin to since harmoniously while dancing a fancy little jig. Small bits of decomposed flesh fly off their bodies in every direction as they furiously twist and spin to the music.

He is not yet dead
That's what the geezer said

Jimson points down to the body and grabs hold of Charlie’s legs as Barney goes for the arms. The two look as if they are set to lift the bloody big man up.

No, he's not yet dead
That man is off his head

Jim Jimson and Barney Green look back at the jigging corpses. Jimson shakes his head in frustration at all the zombies he’s going to have to kill, but Barney drops Charlie’s arms as he just claps along to the beat, nodding his head in harmony the entire time.

He is not yet dead
So put him back in bed

Jimson tries to drag Charlie out of the ring alone, but he doesn’t get very far at all by tugging on the man’s slippery arms. He calls out for Barney to help, but Barney just points at the zombies singing their song, letting them do all the arguing for him.

Keep him off the cart because he's not yet dead.

Jimson, now agitated as all get out, pulls a wooden club out from his pocket…somehow. This club appears to be coated in the bloody fur of baby seal pups, but that’s besides the point. Barney calls out for Jim to stop, but Jimson doesn’t listen. Instead, he begins pounding Charlie’s helpless head with the club, over and over and over again until all that’s left is the bloodiest pulp in the universe.

Well now he's dead
You whacked him on the head
Sure, now he's dead
It makes me just see red

Barney looks on helplessly as Jimson now starts kicking Charlie’s body, scooching it towards the edge of the ring a couple of inches at a time.

You are such a brute
To murder that old coot
You homicidal bastard, now he's really dead

Barney starts rubbing tears out of his eyes as a mad-eyed Jimson finally kicks Charlie’s headless body through the bottom ropes and out of the ring.

Who is the knave who put him in his grave
And who needs to manage his anger?

Jimson slides out of the ring before scooping up Charlie’s corpse and barely managing to toss it onto the now empty cart. Jimson takes a step back and looks around at all the merry dead, then he immediately goes to town on all the dancing corpses with his baby seal clubbin’ club. Back inside the ring Barney Green calls for Jim to calm down, but it’s clearly not working. Jim Jimson begins beating the life back out of the jigging zombies one at a time with absolutely no mercy. Still caught in the trappings of good song and dance, the zombies find themselves helpless and unable to defend themselves from the onslaught.

But I’m not yet dead…
Even when I’ve got no head…

Somehow, someway, the Nickles corpse slides itself off the bloody cart and onto the floor. Even without a head or a pulse, the lively Nickleman continues to sing his self-aggrandizing tunes.

I can still get ahead…
Because I’m not yet dead

Charlie’s singing corpse rolls beneath the apron and under the ring as Jimson strikes down the last of the conquered. Jimson screams at Barney for help loading all the zombies back onto the cart, but Barney just points at the cart and asks where Charlie went. Jimson looks back at the now empty cart in a clear rage. The two corpse collectors begin furiously searching for The Nickleman. They search high and low through the arena, beneath every hot dog wrapper and inside every cup holder, yet still they cannot find heads or tails of him.

Eventually Barney Green and Jim Jimson are forced to call off the search. Reluctantly the two men begin loading back up the bodies they now have, the bodies The Nickleman brought with him, and they walk them back up the entrance ramp as the ring crew begins packing up the ring. Like a thief in the night The Nickleman vanished from Dubai alongside that squared circle, less whole than the man he was before.

The remnants of The Nickleman still rest above and beneath the ring, completely engulfing it, waiting patiently like a venus fly trap for a new victim to step atop the mat. The Nickleman waits patiently for more fresh meat to be thrown into the squared circle, so that he may one day be reborn in blood.








Charlie Nickles sits alone in a small hallway, resting his head and back against the lower portions of a wooden wall. The dingy light hanging down from the ceiling flickers on and off every couple of seconds, an uneasy mood fills the air. Charlie sighs softly before he stares down at the cockroaches skittering up and down the floorboards.

Me and her have a lot to talk about….I still have so much to say, so many promises to keep, so many explanations to give…..but this isn’t about her. It can’t be.

Charlie Nickles lifts his gaze up from the roach infested flooring and begins staring at the tarnished wooden wall across from him.

Tommy Wish I’ll tell you straight up, this main event isn’t even about you. This main event isn’t even about our match. This main event is about ME working through MY ISSUES with YOUR SKULL.

I’m going to tell you how it is, motherfucker, because I don’t have the patience to sugarcoat shit for you right now. You’re going to sit there and swallow every fucking truth pill I shove down your throat, because that’s the only reason you’re fucking booked in the main event. There’s no place for you at the top of the card, unless you come out the other end of it looking like a DUI victim. But I guess that’s why they call you T-Bone, eh?

Charlie Nickles chuckles exactly one time before turning away and wiping some spit off his lower lip.

Fuck you Tommy, and this is nothing personal, but I’m going to make a damn example out of you.

Charlie sports a sick grin as he looks back down at the wooden floorboards. He picks up a skittering roach before holding it in front of the camera for a couple seconds. Then, he crushes the roach between his two fingers and flings it at the tarnished wall across from him.

I’m going to turn you into pastrami and rye, your insides are going outside, I’m going to make your flesh so bloody wet that the leather never dries. That’s nothing but a day’s work at the office for The Nickleman, but I’m fixing to put in overtime drilling your sorry ass to the mat. I’m going to screw your hands into the ring, force a roll of barbed-wire down your throat, and then cut your fucking guts open with a pair of rusty scissors.

Charlie bellows out a hearty guffaw as he places his hand on his beer gut. After a few seconds of merry cheer Charlie lifts his hand from his gut to his beard, which he begins stroking.

All metaphorically, of course. That’s the trick Alias taught me. Heh….

Charlie stops stroking his beard and instead points up at his head. He mouths the word ‘smart’ before lowering his hand and continuing his monologue.

If this is all just art, they can’t make the charges premeditated.

Tommy needs to think about charges himself. That dumbass kidnapped LSM on live TV, in front of the cameras and everything. He needs to think about those charges, he needs to understand that he could be facing a bare minimum of 5-10 years in the slammer for this little pick-up routine of his. He needs to make that time worth it, he needs to give himself fond memories to look back on when he’s behind bars.

Get where I’m going with this?

Charlie grins like a fox in a chicken coop. He shakes his head from side to side while licking his cracked and bruised lips.

T-Wish needs to man up and take what he wants, if he doesn’t do it now then he’ll never fucking do it. This son of a bitch only thinks with his dick, so why the fuck is he such a massive pussy? This sorry cocksucker is probably just writing poetry about LSM while he watches her undress from behind a fake wall. This guy has no confidence at all! Even when a woman is tied up on his bed he’s paralyzed by rejection! And this is the guy who’s trying to fuck me up on Wednesday night? This is the guy who’s supposed to go to war with me? The only thing this guy’s fucking up is the next 5-10 years of his life! The only thing this guy’s at war with is his own limp dick!

Shiiiiit, if I had a girl like LSM all tied up like that? Shiiiiiit, she’d be calling me ‘Papi’ within the hour.

Charlie Nickles cackles maniacally, completely unaware of the incestuous undertones to his statement. 

Funny enough, kidnapping a champion was the only way Tommy Wish was ever going to end anyone’s reign on Anarchy. That boy couldn’t buy a pair of wins on Thursday nights, even if he had Oswald’s credit card! Where’s he standing in the Plump Pigeon tournament? At the bottom, in the literal pigeon shit? Yeah, that sounds about right.

Tommy Wish ain’t done a damn thing to earn a spot headlining Wednesday Night Warfare. Even Calypso and Adi Gold have more impressive resumes than this fake thug bitch! They’ve got more street cred, too! T-Wish is just JB’s dumb ugly fat friend, that’s his only place in this entire company: and that’s why his only place in the main event scene is across from ME. Like shepherds leading a lamb to slaughter, the Warfare GMs have turned T-Wish into an everyday human sacrifice. We all know I’m going to win this match, even Tommy knows it, it’s just a question of how long will Tommy Wish survive.

Tommy can say whatever the fuck he wants if he’s man enough to step in front of a camera this week. All his words will be empty, just like the contents of his head after our fucking match. But shit, that’s just the status quo for Tommy, ain’t it? An empty-headed man spewing empty-headed words, it’s always more of the same with him. You know exactly what you’re going to get, and thank God he won’t be serving seconds this week. It’s all boilerplate, all of the time, and who the hell wants that?

Charlie huffs in disgust as he mimics the turning away of a dinner plate.

Watching Tommy Wish wrestle is like watching a special olympian compete in the real deal. It’s funny to look at, sure, but god damn if you don’t start feeling bad for the boy sometimes. He flaps his arms out like a baby fucking seal with no direction at all and expects it to do something. I’m not sure what wrestling school he went to, but I’m starting to think it might have been a school of fish!

Oh, what am I talking about? Tommy Wish would never be allowed near a school of any kind, I mean, just look at him! He looks like he has a framed photograph of the Sandy Hook shooter above his locker. I bet if you google ‘future mass shooter’ a picture of Tommy fucking Wish pops up! He has no confidence, no skills, and no future: he’s a walking, talking red flag! That’s why I need to break his legs and sew his fucking lips shut: then he won’t be able to walk and talk anymore. I might well be saving all the children by turning him into a god-damned mute parapelegic!

I hope Tommy Wish brings every fucking thing he has to my main event showcase. We need to put on a banger for the ages, I mean shit, have you seen how slim the rest of the card is? Looks like the locker room got word that Charlie was switching over to Warfare and everyone suddenly switched over to Savage! No one wanted to be the next step along my road to glory, barely anyone even felt safe enough to share an arena with The Nickleman!

The former TV champion rubs his mouth excitedly as he tries to clear away the built-up saliva from all the hard truths he’s been spitting.

Or maybe it’s the stench I carry with me that kept everyone away from this card…the stench of death, the ever-growing smell of rot that follows in my wake. But hey, I get it…after all, I’ve been dragging dead horses behind me for about half a year now. Betsy Granger, Lycana, Jim Caedus…those corpses I carry are starting to smell worse with every passing hour. Are you ready to join their ranks, Tommy? Are you prepared to become one with my legion of dead?

If you were a smart man, Tommy-boy, you wouldn’t even show up for our match. But you're not a smart man, are you Tommy-boy? SHAWTY WANNA BE A THUG! And what do thugs do? They go out into the world and they fuck shit up! And that’s exactly what the Thuggish Rubbish Tommy Wish is fixing to do tomorrow night: he’s going to fuck a whole lot of things up. His life, his spine, his career…it’s all getting fucked up tomorrow night.

Don’t say I didn’t warn you, Tommy-boy. When all is said and done, don’t say you didn’t Wish for this.

Charlie sneers into the camera before stepping up to his feet and abruptly walking down the hall. The camera fades out as Charlie Nickles walks further and further away from the screen.





We cut to a shot of Charlie Nickles sitting at a cluttered table next to a window with green and red curtains. He holds a ballpoint pen in his hands and between his lips as he lifts a piece of parchment paper off the tabletop. He takes the pen and begins tapping it against his own skull as he reads the words he’s written aloud to himself.

Dear Connie and the kids,

I am sorry if I’ve been absent these last few years. Understand, I had fallen in love with a beautiful woman made of gold and leather, just my type. It was true love at first kiss, like something I had never known before.

….



Well, I don’t want to lie…but I think they’ll all be pretty mad at me if I don’t at least say I’m sorry….

*ahem*

Well, as you may know by now, that little bitch ran off to be with some other woman. I should’ve known that Goldi was playing for the other team, she kept telling me that I should bring more and more women into our love games. First it was Betsy Granger, then Elijah Martin, then Ruby, then Jenny Myst. In hindsight it was only a matter of time until Goldi got tired of my manmeat all together, no matter how filling and natural it is. But now that she is out of the picture, I’ve grown quite lonely on these warm summer nights. I long once more for the bonds of family, for the comforts of close intimacy.

I know that I have not been the best father and husband these last few years, but as the old saying goes, it’s never too late to try again. I think I’ve learned a lot of valuable life lessons over these past few months that have prepared me to become our family’s Priesthood holder once more. As my family, do know that you are bound to me in both blood and divine providence. As my family, do rest assured that I will come back for you soon, and when I do, I just know you’ll be delighted to see me. You better be.

I’ll be moving back into the house when I get back, so make sure we have plenty of beer in the fridge and NFL Sunday Ticket on the TV. If you don’t, well….you already know how that kind of stuff plays out. Don’t even bother mentioning this to the judge or your lawyers, because Chris Page is paying me enough money to headline his show that I’ll be able to bribe every last public official in Steubenville!

Charlie Nickles sets the pen on the table, then he holds the parchment paper up reaaaal close to his face. He grunts to himself before nodding a few times and placing the paper back on the table.

Yeah, that’s not self-incriminating. That should be fine……


*ahem*


I am going to become the father and the husband that you deserve, that I know I can be. It’s time for me to put my hopeless romanticism aside and just settle for your ugly mother, so that you children can finally have a normal family again.

Signed,
Your Loving Family Man

P.S. to Connie: I’m sorry that I put your dead mom’s name on the envelope, but I knew you wouldn’t open this if it said it was from me.

P.P.S. to the kids: I’m bringing Uncle Jimson home with me because his mom kicked him out, so you kids will have to start sharing a room again. It’s going to be fun, it will be like we’re the family from Full House!


…..



Yeah, that's a damn convincing letter! There's no way this could backfire!

Welp I hope they’re able to read my handwriting!

Satisfied with the letter he’s written, Charlie plucks an envelope off the table so he can stuff the parchment paper into it. The Nickleman then licks the envelope shut and gives it a nice, sloppy seal- kind of like he used to do to Goldi! The Nickleman cracks a big smile as he waves the white envelope back and forth in the air excitedly, as if he were a mad scientist showing off his invention.

I’M GOING TO BE A DAD AGAIN!