Corey turned his gaze upward at Dolly, who was descending down the cavernous pit with a rope in a slow but sure fashion. I think I’m almost at the bottom. Come on slowpoke!

Well excuse me if I’ve never SPELUNKED before. Dolly muttered as she continued further down. Thankfully, Corey was correct and they were indeed close to the bottom. With their feet on terra firma, Corey turned his headlamp towards their surroundings. The light beam settles on a double cast iron door with cartoonish dollar signs festooned on it. They look at each other, and then back at the door.

Well, that’s “interesting”.

It’s more than interesting! A third voice blurts out from behind them. Corey and Dolly scream in fright and wheel about, where stands…

….the host of CNBC’s Mad Money, Jim Kramer! He has a manic look in his eyes and, in a spittle spewing bit of pressured speech, he shouts, BUY! SELL! THE STOCK MARKET IS COMPLETELY ARBITRARY AND SUBJECT TO THE CHILDLIKE CAPRICIOUS WHIMS OF THE MONIED ELITE! IT ALL MEANS NOTHING! NOTHING! Then, getting a hold of himself and clearing his throat, he continues. Sorry about that! Sometimes it just “pops out”. But anyway, behind that door lies the demon of capitalist excess and mindless consumerism, DOLLARTAR.

Corey smirks. His name is seriously “Dollartar”?

But wait, Corey, it makes sense! He’s probably why everyone up top is acting so strange.

Jim points to Dolly. Bingo. When your work crews accidentally exposed this chamber, DOLLARTAR’s powers were unleashed on the surroundings, and he was woken from his slumber.

So wait, what are YOU doing down here? Aren’t you a TV host?

I make a holy pilgrimage to this site every year.

But I’ve never seen you.

Jim looks about nervously. Well, uh, money makes you sneaky. Now come on, I’ve been waiting my whole life to meet DOLLARTAR! Let’s get past this door!

With that the intrepid trio move towards the door, only to find it effortlessly yawning open in their presence. Undaunted, they step over the threshold, and are immediately beset by a cacophony of lights and sounds. They all throw their arms up to cover their eyes, and when the lights finally dim they see a surreal sight. It’s a studio of sorts, done up like The Price is Right. Except the trademark Price is Right song sounds like a funeral durge remix, and all the games on display are twisted versions of old favorites (Plinko features garish neon lights and the puck is instead a decapitated head, the golf game is instead also played with body parts, and the numbers on the big wheel are formed by bloodied bones. I think you get the gist).

What the fuck? Dolly barks.

And that’s when this horrid old bastard walks on stage.



Oh come on, Bob Barker was America’s sweetheart dude, how can you do this?! Corey wails.

Jim Kramer on the other hand is ecstatic. OH MIGHTY DOLLARTAR! I have devoted my entire life to your teachings: wanton greed, unfettered capitalism, and the veneration of the self above all. Please lord, bestow your blessings on me.

The craggy old bastard who looks like an undead Bob Barker speaks, and his voice is like a ghastly breath of air rattling through a windchime of bones. Yessss…yessss…come here my child.

Jim wastes no time approaching his master and getting on his knees.

Do you love me with all you’re worth?

Yes, master.

Would you die for me?

Yes, master.

The beast scowls. WRONG ANSWERS! He then reaches down and picks up Jim by his head via some uncanny strength the sodden old corpse could not possibly have naturally. With a swift crack Dollartar unscrews Jim’s head from his body, causing a brutal fountain of blood to gout up from his neck stump. The demon then casually dumps Jim’s head over his shoulder and points a clawed bloodied finger at Corey and Dolly.

Why do you intrude upon my slumber?

Yeah, well, why do YOU look like Bob Barker.

Because my natural form would shatter your puny minds.

Dolly crosses her arms defiantly. Try us.

Actually Dolly I’m not so sure that’s…

The shot abruptly cuts behind the demon, and he clearly changes shape and form into something else. And immediately Corey launches into a catastrophic projectile vomit. Dolly shrieks and holds her eyes.

AHHH, god fuckin’ damn it, I’M BLIND!

But Corey can’t even reply, he’s too busy power puking.

Meanwhile the demon mercifully returns to his Bob Barker form. Now, I say again, why do you disturb the slumber of the Dread Lord of Capitalist Excess, The Demon King of Limitless Profit, the Sovereign of Insatiable Greed?!

Dolly and Corey both fall to their knees, choking and gasping as if they’d just been released from a stranglehold.

Listen pal! she cries out through a pleading choke, You and your stupid greed spells disturbed us first!

Yeah! Corey confirms, angrily flinging the vomit bile from his fingertips as the duo rises to their feet in tandem, You hypnotized our roommates at the commune. Coreytopia is supposed to be a bastion of hope, a place to recover from the negative influences of society. These were downtrodden addicts who’ve battled off their demons, and now… they’re peddling cryptocurrency and “limited edition” Donald Trump trading cards.

Don’t you get it?! the Dollartar asks with a sinister guffaw, I didn’t make your subjects greedy, it’s the most innate vice of humankind-

-They’re NOT my subjects- Corey spits, -they’re my friends!
SURE THEY ARE! The Dollartar laughs even louder now, Just like this wholesome lass you’ve drug down here with you?

Corey’s face twists with confusion as Dollartar points toward the Price is Right stage. The creepy theme music playing again, sounding like a vinyl record being spun backward against the needle.
   
To his astonishment, and disdain, Corey sees that Dolly has taken the stage, all wide eyed and giddy, clutching one of the decapitated Plinko heads. She climbs to the top of the sliding board game, measures the drop slots and aims for the prize where her gaze has now coldly settled… The XWF Universal Championship.

Dolly! What are you doing? I thought you’d put all of that behind you, I thought you’d changed

Of course you thought that. It’s no big deal, right? What’s the Universal Championship to the MIGHTY Corey Smith?

Dolly looks down the board, where an array of choices to reach the Universal Championship in Plinko lay before her.

That’s right my child the Dollartar begins, Send the severed head down the path of least resistance, the path with the most shortcuts. Let your greed guide you to all of your desires!

The pathways are clearly stated on the board:


XTreme Championship Defenses Against Tommy, JB or Reggie


Demanding Matches Against Weak Universal Champions


XWF Free For ALL


Capitalizing Against XWF Legends At The End of Their Run


Being Sidney Grey


Being Riaon Kido
Dolly’s eyes have settled on the choice. It’s a decision as easy as a no-name rookie scoring a victory over one of the THUGS.

I know my path. I will demand a match against Isaiah King!

A wise choice, my dear! You’ve already shown that you can be slippery enough to cheat him out of a victory before. Now roll that head, and lets see if the Price is Right!

Dolly, you don’t have to do this! Material gain isn’t everything. Having a Universal Championship on your resume changes nothing about who you are. You’re one of the best wrestlers to ever compete in the XWF. Are Peter Gilmour, or Scully great wrestlers? 

SILENCE! the Dollartar turns curtly toward Corey, Material gain IS everything. There is no purpose in life but to consume, to gain, to conquer! You live in a fantasy, for all around you, your species celebrates holidays at my alter… the alter of consumerism! Use your head boy, like your darling little friend here- AHHHHHCKCK!

OH SHIT!

Before Dollartar can finish his rant, his head is severed at the neck and falls to the dirt floor, where a puddle of brown, feces-like blood has begun to gather. From behind Dolly had thrown the severed head Plinko disc like a frisbee while Dollartar was distracted, decapitating the decrepid old beast.

Corey looks on at Dolly from his mortified features as she smiles and nods at her partner.

Dolly, I’m so proud of you. Corey beams.

Dolly walks down from the Plinko board. Ah, don’t get all mushy on me now. We got some THUGS to beat.

IT'S PEANUT BUTTER PROMO TIME, PEANUT BUTTER PROMO TIME!

You know Dolly, I heard a pretty salacious rumor that things are changing around the XWF. I heard that the number of promos we can cut, and the means of addressing our opponents, are a changin’. And I suppose part of me is with that. Things need to change lest they become stale.

*But the other part of me watches some insipid thoughtless dreck like what the THUGS cut and thinks, by God doesn’t that DESERVE to be verbally burnt at the stake?

Unfortunately for this cut rate Wu Tang Clan, those changes haven’t happened just yet. Meaning I get to draw and quarter this flagrant stupidity one last time.

So Tommy, we haven’t been here since 2021 or 2022, huh? Are you sure about that, broseph? Are you just as sure that your brain isn’t just a flaccid stem surrounded by an excess of cerebral fluid? Because I got news for you, homie.

Corey leans in and whispers into the camera.

I was a Universal Champion in 2023. And Dolly? She was a TV Champ AND a tag team champion in 2023.

He leans back and resumes his normal tone of voice. Soooooo….yeeeeaaaahhhhh. Strike one. And it’s a biggun. Because if you boys can’t even be arsed to know what happened THIS YEAR, I certainly can’t picture you having the mental wherewithal to off two of the most decorated people in XWF history. I mean, these mother fuckers talking about testing us like this isn’t going to be a one sided shit shoot. What are you gonna TEST us on, boys? Because it sure as hell isn’t current events, or literacy, or anything having to do with an iota of wrestling talent.

We are in this match with you literally because you were the third wheel tag team to sign up for this edition of Warfare. Fact is, we were STUCK with you. And to be quite honest, I’m a little upset that Dolly and I are riding off into the sunset on such a blatant layup as this. I wish we could have gone down fighting King and Kaye, or gone non-title with Flynn and Bourbon. But no. We got the also ran team that’s been the whipping boys of the tag team division since longer than I’ve held a contract.

This isn’t going to be one for the ages. It’s going to be an opening match abattoir of unprecedented proportions. I want you boys to look around at the other guys and gals in the locker room before you head down that aisle to face us. Do they look you in the eye? Or do they avert their gaze like you’re dead men in waiting headed for the gallows? Because boys, I’m pretty damn sure it’s gonna be the second one. Seriously. Watch them. They know what’s coming.

Nobody’s goin’ home with a broken ankle Tommy. But I just might slap you in the End of Ages and make you feel like you’re body’s going to break in half. Bring that weak ass ankle lock shit to the ring, man. I want you to. You think I never broke an ankle lock before? That pumpkin spice latte most basic of basic bitch submissions? Tommy…Tommy…TOMMY!

Corey just chuckles and shakes his head.

You’re drowning, boys. You’re drowning and you don’t even know it. And the cold hard fact is that you boys have been drowning for a good long time. Drowning in mediocrity and blaming “the machine” for your lackluster performances. Or blaming your status as perennial outsiders who just never got a chance. Well here’s the capital S Secret you boys don’t seem to understand.

You make your own chances.

And as Dolly cannilly pointed out in our last bit, neither of you can be bothered to make your own chances so long as the bubbly is flowing and those gilded lifestyles wax on and on.   

Low effort begets low effort. See how that plays out for you at Warfare.


Look, we know how this is gonna’ playout at Warfare, Corey.

The THUGS have already told us as much. They’ve tapped out before the match has even started.

They’ve spent the entirety of their promo work, whining and complaining about how they’ll not be taken seriously. How they might as well give up, talking themselves into a resolution they’ve already embarked upon.

I’d like to make an appeal here to these sorry sacks of ring waste:

Tommy? JB? Do you know how little is thought of Dolly Waters by the majority of the XWF Community?

I’m not talking about the fans. The overwhelming majority of the audience love my shit. They get excited when I step in the ring, they know about the unique style and frantic pace with which I’ve made a living making folks like yourselves gasp for air over the years. It’s been critiqued, and studied, and commended the world over.

I’m talking about how little I’m thought of, by and large, by the people within this very business. Time and again, I’m mocked and ridiculed, and brushed away as an all but forgotten piece of the history of the XWF. I’d challenge you to do something, go see if you can find a kind word uttered about Dolly Waters from one of our colleagues that wasn’t spoken by Corey, Thad, Bobby or Drezdin. For as much as you guys seem to believe the Warfare writing is on the wall because no one has anything nice to say about the THUGS, I’d beg of you to take a closer look.

Because no matter how many times I’ve been discarded, and forgotten, and written -off as any easy win, it seems that time after time, when I actually press the pedal to the metal, I have the ability to leave any wrestler gasping for air.

Sure, maybe I never won that Universal Championship, it just wasn’t a part of my story…

But you know what is a part of my story? Defeating at least 8 different former Universal Champions. Straight Up.

Call it reconciling the delta after the fact.

The Championships. The Winning Streaks. The Tournament Wins. The Tournament Runner-Ups. It’s a list of achievements that any decent, and humble professional wrestler could retire happy with. Because despite the constant criticism of my peers, I’ve proved them wrong time and again.

So why can’t you boys?

I’m living proof that being bad mouthed doesn’t mean yer’ bad.

All you’ve gotta do is apply a bit of dedication to improvement, and there’s no telling what you might be able to achieve. But sadly, you’ve already told everyone that yer’ not interested in doing that this go around.

It’s absolutely tragic.

Maybe you should consider hiring those stand-in THUGS again to wrestle against Dolly Waters. I mean the schtick is pretty basic, so any highschool dropout with mommy issues and an elementary taste for music would do just fine- and the results would be all the same, just like before. A pair of mediocre wrestlers bringing a half hearted effort into the ring and getting drug by a couple of XWF blue bloods.

Corey is right to be a little miffed by this whole deal. I mean just months ago this guy was the Universal Champion. I was the TV Champion. And rather than be booked in what might be a competitive and entertaining match, the powers that be would rather watch another one-sided affair.

Fine by me.

Merry goddamn Christmas I suppose.

Allow me to package their gift of witnessing drug addicts on the spectrum of being beaten within an inch of their lives. I’ll wrap it up nicely. Put a bow on it, and lay right underneath the Pryce family Christmas Tree. Weekend Warfare, me and Corey will present the world with the gift that keeps on giving:

The THUGS, and their inability to try.