Move Aside, Bitch



Chris Chaos was kicked off his throne,
Chris Chaos was now all alone.
When All of AX3 came to his aid,
Making sure he didn’t fade.
Stood by him as they beat,
Whomever they had to meet.
Chris Chaos puffed his chest,
Stuck it out like he was the best.
But with each new victory,
Under his precious AX3,
He couldn’t help relying heavily,
On his whores and well, then there’s Jenny.
His eminent destruction,
Was beyond his comprehension.
Tearing into his legacy,
Would be my new delicacy.
Feasting on his pride,
Speading my mouth out wide.
I will hunt him down,
And regain my crown.
Show the world he’s a clown,
The fool of the town.

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Danny unclasps his hands, clearing his throat emphatically as he steps off the stage. The room is filled with a momentary silence, between the ending of his ode and the clapping of the audience. Simmer time, he called it. It varied from audience to audience, but was exceptionally long for this one. His eyes scanned the crowd, taking in the wrinkle covered faces of his retirement home friends. A breeze comes under his hospital gown, causing the opening at the back to flutter, his butt flashes into the crowd and that finally breaks them. They burst into a loud guffaw, and a satisfied smile falls upon Danny.

Danny takes his seat on an old wheelchair, that groans beneath his weight. He’s directly in front of another elderly man. The man has a stream of drool from the side of his face, dripping down onto his gown and creating a straight line all the way down to his waist. Danny adopts a look of pity, taking the bib around the man’s neck and giving him a wipe.

“It’s such a shame, isn’t it? Places like this, filled with sickness and degeneration. They are a constant reminder of the weakness of man. A regular nagging alarm that we are all destined to perish. Though we might all come into this world, experiencing different victories and defeats, we all end up in the same state of annihilation. For some it’s disease, other old age, others still it is stress and for some pride.

The belief that we are immortal. Somehow touched by God and destined for greatness. It plagues many, especially those imprisoned in the lights of stardom and luxury. It’s easy to give in to the feeling, have the encouraging whispers that drift to our ears truly warp us and control us. It’s easy to breathe in the intoxicating scent of adulation, the worship bestowed upon you, week in and week out.

You see Chris, you’re an obvious shadow of your former self. 31-10. Cling onto that. Your past is important, each one of those wins and losses have made you who you are today. You see, there’s a thing with records though. They can speak for a career as a whole, but they can’t really speak for your career right now, right this instant. You see the only really important statistics for you right now are your most recent ones. Main, can walk about saying he’s unpinned, and that’d be true. You can say you’ve lost over and over again in recent times, and that too would be true. You see, you might have legacy, but you do not have dominance.

See, I believe in the fates, the powers that be. That the universe has a set of rules and that all our lives and actions are intertwined. I believe that all things have a purpose, some to serve and others to be served. I believe that destiny writes all stories, and decides where one ends and another begins. Your career has been wonderful, really entertaining for some and an unfortunate cringe-fest for others. Depending on whether you’re a fan of watching Jenny swing her hips or would rather stay away from that chlamydia filled whore. Let’s be honest, recently, she’s just about all that’s worth watching when you’re in the ring. It’s not like you’d have half of those 31 wins with you if you didn’t have her helping you out at every glimpse of obstruction.

See your story, yes your wondrous tale so far has been well written. With thrice as many victories for you, the protagonist, than defeats… It’s come along well. But in recent days as we’re forced to watch you dwindle slowly into the throngs of defeat, it has become apparent that the great Chaos’ tale is about to come to an end. That’s the unfortunate truth about legends in this business, not many retire with their heads held high or their hands clasped around a title with meaning. Entwined within the memory of better days, we don’t quite know when to let go. That’s where I come in Chaos, you see I’m but a fledgling, getting a feel of my wings and the feet that hold me up. You are a superstar that’s had his last bout with glory and is on a rapid descent into oblivion. I have an excuse for my losses, inexperience, what do you have? Pride, impudence?

You’ve lost respect for the artform, you’ve sold your soul to the call of relevance. You had it going for you, your solo career, but the fear of becoming obsolete was clearly too much for you to handle. You couldn’t process NOT being in the limelight for a second, though you knew that’s where you were headed. Your recent failures in your singles bouts are evident of this, I mean, you even loss to someone who supposedly joined the team you’re the leader of. You lost to one of your henchmen. Aye aye, captain.

You see, my desperation in my current situation is signs of change. Signs of evolution. For through the hottest fires are born the most beautiful artifacts. Through trials and pressure, the most intricate diamonds are formed. My desperation isn’t my downfall, the point of my previous piece was to help you understand that. It was to help you realize that my desperation is your biggest obstacle. My desperation will drive me towards defeating you, through means you have not faced yet, not even dreamt about yet. Your desperation caused you to turn tail and hide behind the back’s of others greater than you. A true champion would have reinvented himself, proved to the world that Chris Chaos was still a threat, by his own hand. So, in your words, did you rise up against those feelings or did you let them consume you? Like old Richie here, are you in control of your life, or has life consumed you to the extent you can’t even clean up after yourself?”

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Danny dabs at the corner of Richie’s mouth again, before turning his wheelchair to face the other patients in the room. To his left is a lady huddled in an armchair, muttering to herself.

“I’m okay, I’m okay, really. I remember things. I know things, oh yes, oh yes, I plan things, I’m very smart.”

Danny gives her a solemn smile, before reaching out to touch her cheek. She stiffens and stops her muttering, though her lips are still moving.

“There, there, Miriam, we believe you really. You just need to learn to shut the fuck up, because we don’t really care.”

He gives her a patronizing pat on the head, though it doesn’t she like she quite comprehends.

“You see Chris, there’s a long-standing belief that intelligence does not need to be spoken for. It’s a trait that obvious to those that witness it, and clear when it’s lacking. Our great president Donald J. Trump was a big fan of reiterating his self-praise, he believed adamantly in repeating something positive about himself, whether it was true or not.

Given, a shit ton of idiots believed him. The kind that only need to be yelled at that Mcdonalds is having a discount on their mcnuggets long enough, before their standing in queue buying themselves a box of lard. The type of people that just need to hear that somebody is a commie enough times to take out their white hoods from the back of their closets. Imbeciles, basically.

But the majority of the world? We’re not that idiotic, Chris. You’re not just a crazy bastard? You’ve got the character spectrum of a cardboard cutout, with your dwindling ring ability to match. I might have a tougher time taking out your Lethal Lottery cut-out than I might have you, on Saturday. Craziness takes character, champ, you’ve got none of that.

You’re smart? You plan things? Why is it that we don’t see either of these traits? Did Einstein have to waltz about telling people he was smart, or did he show it to them? Did Napoleon have to brag about his strategical brilliance before he won The Battle of Austerlitz? Not really, people just knew, they saw it. You can sit there and brag about your 26 different plans, but have any of them really come to play recently? You’ve got the numbers to put up some kind of front in the ring, but dedicated planning? I’ve seen none of that, Chaos.
And mind you, I have Jackson in my life. He takes care of me every single day and makes sure the only thing I really need to do is wipe my ass. I’m sure he’d have had some choice words to say about you assuming I needed to admit myself here for some concern. Hmph. I pay that man and a string of other house help just to care for me and I won’t have you discrediting that! Madness.

Here’s what you don’t understand Chaos. Everyone is aware that when you look at our careers, I’m very much new to the game, you however have been playing for a while. Nobody expects to look at my record so far and go, wow this kid is clearly a main-eventer. I’m not, that’s blatantly obvious. You pointing it out is like Jerry over there that likes to say the sky is blue every morning. It’s redundant. I AM a rising star, because my career is still building itself. I am the future because this isn’t even my final form. Like a snake shedding its skin as it grows bigger, I’m changing and developing every day. That’s what makes me special, that’s what gives me worth. People are done with your stagnant act and your modus operandi. Hell, even your opponent’s seem to have figured out the mystery of beating Chris Chaos. I’m cocooning to turn into a beautiful butterfly, had your last show and are busy playing an extra in the play of life.

I get it, we all need to pay our bills, and we all need to be able to afford to take care of somebody. I’ve got myself to take care of, you’ve got Jenny. The wonderful thing is if you keep cumming down her herpes ridden mouth, she’ll do just fine, so why don’t you save us the trouble… Resign and save us from having to watch your fumbling ass in the ring day in and day out. You and Cadryn can sit around a coffee table and moan about how close you were to winning over a glass of scotch.

You see, guys like you, you’ve already ridden your waves and had your share of rip curls. Your trident is being pried out from your arthritic hands and your knees can barely keep you on the board. I’m coming in doggy paddling behind you, studying your every move and perfecting my art in secret, for my chance to take over. I’m the growing vine, you’re the dying tree, how many more analogies do you need before you get it?”

Danny stands up and faces the camera.

“Move aside, bitch, and watch me tear apart that bubble of yours. Get out of my way."

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