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Stevie Tyler · **07-13-2013, 08:50 AM**

THIS MORNING

Stevie had just seen promos from both Agent Orange and Tony Santos about his impending matchup at Leap of Faith. The kid was absolutely terrified. He'd not wanted any part of this whole thing to begin with, but after seeing what Orange did to the kids in the backyard fed and hearing Tony's threats, he was ready to hand over the belt, and run away.

As is his nature.

He looked all over his apartment for the phone number of literally ANY XWF upper-brass. The plan was to just call them and explain that this was all a big mistake. He wasn't sure if "demon-possession" was a legally acceptable way to break a contract, but he was willing to try. Stevie started in his room, digging under piles of dirty and clean clothes mixed together like piss and water in an unflushed toilet. Maybe he'd left the paper with their numbers in his second pair of jeans that hadn't been washed in 4 months. No? How about the empty sock drawer? Nothing.

He moved to his closet and pulled out some old sheets and blankets that smelled like moth balls, and shook them out, hoping the paper would slip out. No luck. Next were the long-boxes that housed his comics. They were hiding deep underneath and hadn't been touched in a while, but maybe the paper had fallen. He began to pull them out, one by one, and got sidetracked by Grant Morrison's first issue of Animal Man. Not hard to do, really. That was a great run. A lot of guys praise Alan Moore and Frank Miller, but, for Stevie's money, Grant Morrison was the king. Stevie's still sort of hurt inside that he's not in control of the Bat-family anymore.

He stops when he remembers he might die tonight. This is serious business. He opens his sock drawer. Empty. Under the pillow, mattress, and bed. If it's under the bed, it's history. So much crap. He decides it's not in his room and systematically destroys his entire apartment in his quest. His roommate, LJ, comes home for his lunch break from Cracker Barrel and doesn't even seem to notice anything's been done. It does look largely the same. He searches the kitchen cabinets for the second time until LJ leaves, even though he's sure they're not there.

Finally, he gives up. The numbers are gone, but hope is not. He remembers the webcam he had bought a while back that he'd been too embarrassed to tell anyone he knows that he owns it even though it's a very common item. It's the way you use it, I suppose. He plugs it in and logs in to his XWF page. Stevie's forgetful, but he never forgets the password he uses for literally every site he's a member of. dragonforce4ever. Stevie is streaming live, hoping to get a message to his opponents and the XWF higher-ups.

"Ok, guys...Seriously? Can I talk to you seriously for a minute? Tony, dude, you're right. You really are. I stole the Xtreme Championship, but I didn't mean to. I swear, man. I didn't want it, I didn't want this, I don't want the US Title or anything, dude. I just wanna' sit here and eat Domino's or whatever you said. That's the honest truth. I know it sounds pathetic. I know I'm a loser. I know to guys like you, and Orange, and Alex, that I'm a nothing. I'm in no sort of shape at all. I love anime and I argue about who would win between Thanos and Darkseid. I haven't had a girlfriend and I haven't been laid in as long as I remember and it totally sucks, dude. It really does.

And what sucks now, is that I can't help what I'm doing. I'm not in control of myself half the time. I'm terrified of you guys. Dude, you guys have all the talent in the world. I saw what Orange did to those guys, and I almost pissed myself. I WISH I had backyard wrestling experience. You know what my wrestling experience consists of? Dude. I played Smackdown Vs. Raw a couple of times. That's it. And even then, I spent most of the time making my own guys so I could have a purple man in a neon, green thong with clown-paint wrestling a poor man's Hellboy.

Agent Orange is a beast in the ring, and so is Santos. I'm sure Alex has tard-strength and i want no part of any of it. I'm telling you guys, I'd love to just mail the title in, but I don't have an address. I'd be totally willing to just show up, lay it down in the ring, and just leave."

Stevie's eyes become solid black and he foams at the mouth after that last sentence.

"I WOULD be totally willing," he growls, "BUT TONIGHT, I'M GONNA' BREAK YOU GUYS IN HALF! That belt belongs to ME and it's staying with ME! You wanna' run around with superhero cosplayers? FINE! You wanna' play with a bunch of Juggalos and act like that's comparable to THE INFERNO WITHIN!? DO IT! You wanna' get drunk and rub your bare ass on the sofa! THAT'S COOL TOO, BRO! THE STEVESTER IS COMING TO DOMINATE! The Tylerites are gonna' fill the arena tonight, bro...I can hear 'em alllllllready.

'STEVIE! STEVIE! STEVIE!' They might even do that clap thing, bro. You have no idea. Bring your baseball bats, your barbed wire, your light tubes and kendo sticks. NOTHING IS MORE XTREEEEEEEEEME THAN HELLFIRE AND BRIMSTONE, DUDE! And I'm bringin' it, bro. I'm bringin' it hardcore at Leap of Faith!

Santos, you called me a 'dangerous dude'? Like it was funny that someone would say that? I AM THE MOST DANGEROUS DUDE, DUDE! I know what this all is. You guys think I'm playing a game. You guys wanna' play games with me. You wanna' pretend you gotta' in you to be as XTREME AS STEVIE TYLER! Well you're not, bro! You wanna' play games? You guys wanna' play games with THE STEVESTER!? I LIKE GAMES, BRO! You wanna' play 21? I GOT 22, BRO! I'VE GOT 22! YOU GUYS HAVE EFFED UP! YOU'VE EFFED UP BIG TIME! Stevie Tyler is coming and he's coming harrrrrrrrrrd, son. So hard."

Stevie's head drops and he spits up a bit on his Adventure Time t-shirt. He looks back at the camera, clearly concerned, and brushes himself off. "Dude, I'm so sorry. Whatever that was, please, please, please ignore it. Please don't hurt me, you guys. I don't wanna' die, dude. Just, you guys can have it and maybe I could get an autograph or something? Please."

With the final plea, Stevie shuts off his camera with clear fear in his eyes. He spends the rest of the day reluctantly packing his bags and feeling light-headed.

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