Threaded Mode | Linear Mode

JimCaedus · (10-11-2017)

======€@£|)Ų$======
(Section 1 & 2 responding to Chaos's EDGEOFGLORY roleplay)

Nick should be here right _now_.

Nick Leal; friend, former non-member associate of my old trio West Side Mafia crew, fellow '98 Mayfair alumnus and some time weed dealer. At the moment, it's the latter that concerns me. Nick should be delivering a half o, should've arrived minutes ago and has whittled away my entire lunch break in 5...4...3...

Oh right, my bad. The date is-

---Thursday•November 30•2000---

---Best Buy•Lakewood CA•Day---

-and I'm now punching back in as an employee under my official designation: (from the old days of Best Buy) Media Customer Service Rep. Gotta earn money somehow while I'm not performing in the ring on Saturdays for the indy UPW.

Fuckin' Nick...

I wander angrily back to my station to await the next customer, I see none perusing the video games, music and movies at the moment thank Chr-

::SCREECHING OF TIRES::

::BOOM!!::

All heads in the store turn to the front automatic sliding glass doors. My co-worker in-department, Fabian, and I exchange glances of frowned confusion.

We're the first to hustle to and out the doors, eyes scanning the parking lot for a collision. No such lu-

"Dude, over there," Fabian states while pointing to the left of the store and Clark Avenue.

I follow close behind as he turns the corner...

"That's my homeboy's car..."

And it looks like Nick somehow hit the fucking fire hydrant. The front windshield has a massive hole in it.

"Someone's in the front passenger seat not mov-"

Fabian cuts himself off...and I see why. There's a body lying beside the tree, blood slathered over the bark, dripping in lines of crimson from what looks like the point of impact. It's-

"Oh my fuckin' God...Nick? Nick??"

As if in some bizarre form of reality-

What the fuck did you do man??

-I slowly approach the body.

Why is his head...like that?

At this point I can see Nick's head has been split nearly completely in half at the jaw, the top portion almost resting on his back. I don't recognize what of the face I see...such a surreal and grisly mess.

I feel dizzy.

I turn and hurry over to the car, purposely avoiding peering at the askew motionless passenger, sirens already sounding in the near distance.

I double over and I vomit.

This can't be happening...

The friend grapevine would soon reveal Nick and his friend had picked up bud and had been taking hits of nitrous oxide while driving to his next destination, Best Buy. Nick had passed out behind the wheel and hadn't been wearing his seatbelt.

•Mourn the lost, sympathize, care and feel for those whose lives have been affected so tragically...but press on. Never allow despair to control you.•

I finished up the remainder of my shift that day in a daze. Friday wasn't much better. I competed as usual on Saturday. I don't recall if I won or lost but I remember it being difficult to get through. At times, AT the time, it all felt so...unimportant leading up to the funeral services. Still, it paid to keep one's head.
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

"Cuck-a-doodle-doo"

::FADE IN::

::Jim, sitting upon the king size bed he and Tala share in their La Grande Residence - at the Sutton Place Hotel suite, looks to be taken completely by surprise at what appears on his laptop, double-taking at the screen in confusion::

"Who the...who the hell are _you_?? Goddammit I was supposed to be viewin' a Chris Chaos response promo! And I- ...Hey wait...that IS you Cucksy! Almost couldn't place the face. My bad, I'm so used to seein' you on all fours from behind. You know: presentin' that bleached, bruised and well-worn asshole I been FIGURATIVELY fuckin' for months now. Oh, for the folks at home, you gotta specify with Chris, he gets easily excited when the concept o' man on man comes up and then becomes prone to comparing watching my promos with his personal experience of finishin' dick, usually Jenny Myst's (don't let the recent "for realsies breakup" fool you), in 'is mouth as stated in his promo from High Stakes II, "We. The People. Part 1: Declaration", remember?"

"That is all your promo's have ever been, Jim. A mouthful of hot cum."

"See? I wouldn't lie to you good people and I realize memories must be refreshed from time to time.

Anyway, guess I'll go ahead and watch "EDGEOFGLORY", Christy's highly anticipated response to my obviously baited-with-inciteful-and-hateful-haymakers-hook, "Leap of Hate"."

::An apparent cut takes place, returning us to Jim, post promo perusal. He looks extremely disappointed::

"Shoulda known...I shoulda _fuckin'_ known I couldn't count on you to bring the heat against me. Here I upload a mean-spirited, spiteful, simple backhand chock full o' middle fingers for the lot o' you to get riled up and respond...and THIS is what I get? For cucksake Cucksy, that shit wasn't even up to your usual standards. The fuck _was_ that subliminally "oh, I give up!" hackly half-assed hogwash? I see at the very least you ain't lost your knack for fuckin' up every fact you fling my way and I may as well address those boners (easy Chris, ya rabidly cock-hungry whore) before the REAL show starts..."

::CHAOS PLAYBACK::

"You know, a few months ago, I would be nervous about this match."

::END::

"You ain't nervous? Hm, that's odd...'cause literally seconds following that truly brave claim you said:"

::CHAOS PLAYBACK::

"This is one of the biggest, if not the biggest, briefcase match in the history of this company. It puts then one at Lethal Lottery to shame."

::END::

"Clearly not big enough a match that you'd nut the fuck up, shitcan the shiverin' and speak clearly, cocksucker. It puts "then one" at Lethal Lottery to shame? Take a breath. Think. Before. You. Speak. Especially when you're attemptin' to display how unafraid you are and how important an opportunity like this is to you. You're right, you ain't "sweating bullets", you're shittin' bricks and o' course you are...every time the two of us tangle you get torn apart. A level o' dread spreads through you now, courses, encroachin' like cancer, when the subject o' Caedus v Chaos comes up. It bleeds through the screen when you stutter and stumble 'round the sass, ass, in moments such as this:"

::CHAOS PLAYBACK::

"The Jim Caedus that jumped Reno and took his title is dead......now all he is....a Rob Zombie doppelganger with crumbs in his beard and and overly aggressive persona."

::END::

I shake my head.

"Jesus wept wiped.....His ass on a bejeweled be-'gina'd (as in packin' vagina. keep up, fam, you know me) lump o' clay, called it Chris then called it quits. He can't even get through a D minus beard insult (I predicted they'd be comin'...again, EASY Cuck, as your stomach growls. That's "comin" with one M and an O) without stuttering in fear. "Rob Zombie doppleganger" by the way? Doesn't 'e have dreadlocks, dipshit? For cryin' out loud, if you're gonna try subtly suckin' off Soldier and Doc with a relatable-to-a-team-named-DOCTORSATAN! reference you could at least Google the guy and take a gander at 'is pics. And don't try and deny the dubious attempt, doofus; beyond the fact Rob and I are both white with beards there ain't a single comparable aesthetic detail. Thor. Thor is exquisitely apt. Call me Thor. Once I'm done hammerin' that hymen o' yours you'll definitely be cowin' to this God o' Thunder as the XWF's own God o' Blunders. Speakin' o' which...let's move on to those shall we?"

::CHAOS PLAYBACK::

"All I have heard all week is Jim Caedus this and Jim Caedus that. Everyone is basically handing this match to Jim Caedus..."

::END::

"Where was I for all the Caedus love you hyperbolic bullshitter? Fuck are you referrin' to, three measly bets placed on me to win the Leap o' Faith match? That ain't even half the names wagering you whiny lil' wuss, more people refrained from bettin' on our match or, like Danny furiously at dick-skinnin'-speed jackin' off while gazin' in the mirror, bet on themselves than bet on me. There's that uncertainty again, that fear you feel, that voice ringing, _shouting_, in your pinhead,

C
A
E
D
U
S

G
O
N
N
A

K
I
L
L

Y
O
U
!

And they say _I'm_ paranoid... Do you see me meltin' down, doubtin' myself over my tally since I lost the Uni Title? ...Ok, to be fair, I DID open my first vignette with that very theme but I ended it revitalized, shruggin' it off my shoulders. It obviously didn't occur to you one reason I led with my doubtful diatribe meant you predictably stabbin' at my record with that huge clit o' yours (stop that, it's creepy) would prove pointless. As pointless as you sayin':"

::CHAOS PLAYBACK::

"Say all you want that he came back strong in his last match....bullshit. Jim is beginning to wear down... He knows it too. You can see it in his promos..."

::END::

"Uh...that'd make me NOT one of the "best of the best" would it not? Strange thing to say after you said earlier in the same promo:"

::CHAOS PLAYBACK::

[i"I am in this one against the best of the best, the top competition this company has to offer."[/i]

::END::

"Contradictory douche. Oh, and you can "see (my) wear in (my) promos"? Would that be the one where I comically and sarcastically cycled through gimmicks after my Blingsteen Bluff, the one where I was on Wayne's World, the one with the fully composed rap diss track and Snarf of the Thundercats or my last one where I ripped into your guts like I was flossin' your insides up the ass and out the mouth with barbed wire? "Wearing down"? Bitch, I've been more giddy, creative and colorful these past weeks than I was in most o' my promos before and durin' my Uni Title reign, fuck you talkin' about? There you are phonin' in quite possibly the weakest fat-free-plain-yogurt-yield-of-a-promo-with-the-name-Chris-Chaos-attached-to-it I've ever seen and you say _I'm_ wearin' down? I'm ampin' up, idiot. You beat James Raven twice did you? And? I beat YOU twice, dummy. You just beat Reno? So have I, so has everyone else he's faced since his return. I'm missin' the part where you trump me with accomplishments like my accolades and personal record in Caedus-Chaos matches trump yours. Christie...does it ever get embarrassing swingin' and missin' as often as you do? Shall we show another?"

::CHAOS PLAYBACK::

"(Jim) is so angry. Why is he so angry all the time?"

::END::

"Asks the asshat o' the guy who's been laughin', smilin', courtin' comedy and cahootin' with cartoons and SNL characters for the past few weeks in promo. Here's another:"

::CHAOS PLAYBACK::

"Leap O' Hate? Come on, Jim, you'd think Vinnie's pay checks would be going towards English lessons. But no...you continue to stumble through promos..."

::END::

"I'm sorry, what?"

::CHAOS PLAYBACK::

"This is one of the biggest, if not the biggest, briefcase match in the history of this company. It puts _then one_ at Lethal Lottery to shame."

"...a Rob Zombie doppelganger with crumbs in his beard _and and_ overly aggressive persona."

"Has nobody noticed that Jim Caedus has been on _(?)_ down-slide lately?"

"...he just isn't the same dominating force he was a few months ago. Many could say _(?)_ about me."

"Now look at him...he went from being _a_ what looked like the slimy after-product of the Fonz from Happy Days..."

"I am just waiting for him _to to_ Super Sayan on someone someday."

"...when is the last time Scully did anything worthwhile since hoarding the Universal Title and backing away from every challenge that came his way? Hell, if _we_ won this briefcase, he'd probably never cash it in."

"I knew it was only a matter of time before the competition caught up to you. It _appers_ that has happened now, hasn't it?"

::END::

"A: Your. Diss. Game. Sucks.

B: Hey Chaos, your foot called. It wants to know when it'll be outta your jizz-jarring jaws and back up your bunghole where it belongs. Aaaaaaand-

C: SIX o' those EIGHT instances of you "stumbling through promo" were in the same goddamn verbal paragraph you total fuckin' imbecile! Still projectin' your own shortcomings on others and showin' it, eh Cuck? You legit lack the mental device that allows one to learn from one's own mistakes, I know it. I guess that makes you lucky as hell you ain't gotta physically defeat me in this match, just leap to the briefcase. O' course, I still wouldn't put MY expectation in someone who can't even present an argument without fuckin' it up.

Like how you specified I've "fucked (you) up 3 times". Three Chris? Three? We've had two matches as opponents, _two_. Is the step from two to three really so immense you can't keep track? Christ almighty, I'd assume someone with as many losses as you would be intimately familiar with the difference between a two count and a three count. But then...if you were that aware you wouldn't have botched your way so spectacularly through your attempt to make a point that YOU are the only threat here and NOT any o' the five you're facin'."

::CHAOS PLAYBACK::

"Funny how an entire promo, and only one or two lines were about me. Whats the matter Jim, not worried about Chris Chaos? Of course not, why would you be? You've done everything to me but toss my salad, why would I be a threat to you?"

::END::

"Ok, for starters I spent a good fifteen minutes focusing on you, including the six minutes the entire café was rollin' with laughter at the mental image o' you dyin'. Second, "toss your salad"? There again we have another classic Freudian Slip with Christine Chaos's innermost desires and his barely concealed clitoral wood for yours truly. Let's continue though..."

::CHAOS PLAYBACK::

"You are more focused on Gabe Reno being out for revenge, but we all saw how well his first conquest went on Warfare didn't we? Reno is one dimensional now, I have figured him out. Robert Main, Jim, what threat could he possibly pose to you? He was the weakest member of AX3 back in the glory days, and that is including Jenny. Now look at him... Danny Imperial? He is far too consumed with himself to be a threat. Does anyone take Scully seriously anymore?

Your priorities are way off.

None of them matter, Jim.

This match all comes down to me."

::END::

"Oh Chrissy...why does nothin' but a web o' lies spring forth from the fishy pink lips that aren't located between your legs? For one thing, THIS was observed of Robert Main in one o' YOUR promos leadin' up to our Triple Threat Match at High Stakes II:"

::CHAOS FLASHBACK::

Ax3. Robert Main, with his Howard Stern haircut and his Rambo attitude, is arguably the most talented member outside Chris himself.

::END::

"For _another_ thing:"

::CHAOS PLAYBACK::

"I am in this one against the best of the best, the top competition this company has to offer."

::END::

"I'm- I'm just _aghast_ at the shit you say from one moment to another, Cuckers. "You're all amazing but none of you are amazing." "You're the best of the best but you aren't threats." Got it, genius, glad you could clear that up for us. Someone please shoot this dumbfuck in the face, empty the clip, reload and empty that one as well. Fill this fuck-up's head with SOMETHIN' 'cause it ain't shit but an empty cavity at the moment. Far as I can tell, the six of us more or less with a few variables stand an equal chance at winnin' the Leap o' Faith match considering all of us share comparable win/loss records against one another. Get over yourself dickhead. But you won't will you, you'll continue to make claims like:"

::CHAOS PLAYBACK::

"You see, you never know what you are going to get out of me. I can beat you with power. I can beat you with technique. I can beat you with speed. But most of all, Jim, I can beat you with unpredictability. I can beat you with craziness. I can beat you by going to lengths that no other human being should attempt to go."

::END::

"1: I think "I can" all you want, wimp, but outta two bouts thus far you sure as fuck ain't done it _yet_ so apparently you _can_ also easily get your ass manhandled by _me_. How's that fit into your logic, Little Transgend' That Couldn't?

2: Beat _me_ with power? Chris, you ain't stronger than me. I've overcome your power twice, once in a Triple Threat, once in an I Quit submission match.

3: Beat _me_ with technique? Chris, I've overcome your technique twice, once in a Triple Threat, once in an I Quit submission match.

4: Beat _me_ with speed? Chris, I- Wait...that one's debatable at least. I mean, I ain't no sloth by any means but you _might_ be faster. Still, beaten you two outta two, twat.

5: Beat _me_ with unpredictability, craziness and goin' great lengths no human should go? 5a: Chris, you're predictable A-F. You're as predictable as your monthly cunt-thly crimson cycle except that one time Jenny knocked you up. You're so predictable the handle Chaos stands as the single most ironic stage name ever in the history o' this business. 5b: Craziness? While I admit your Glen or Glenda "hey big boy, this is Jenny Myst calling" crap is pretty fuckin' sick in the head, you ain't the one 'round here gettin' called crazy more often than not. 5c: Great lengths? Like in our Triple Threat 60 Minute Iron Man Match in which I beat you with the one and only pinfall o' the bout? Like in our I Quit match where your great lengths amounted to you gettin' choked out? Like when I jumped off Big Ben and rode a motherfuckin' _dragon_ to defeat Micheal Graves? Like when I swung the _body of a fan to knock out Nate Higgers_?? Yeah, S-T-F-U, eunuch. I love how you also claim to be the underdog in the match after braggin' on me tankin' lately and you not only doin' so well recently but also representing the only threat in the match. Ain't that just like a woman? You want your cock and eat it too. Can't play both sides Cuck-O, is it underdog or a rockin' Chaos? Wouldn't my recent losses make _me_ the underdog? Again, S-T-F-U ya colossal dunce. Know what else I love?

I love that you stated in the past you woulda snubbed your nose, pissed and moaned about this match. As you put it, "Universal Title or bust"." SIGH. "Cuckles...a 24/7 Briefcase IS the Universal Title......or Hart, Xtreme, whatever the holder fancies. Almost a guaranteed title change, unlike a Uni strap shot or ANY shot for that matter. You...you DO know how this all works don'tcha? You seem awfully confused, Christal. Confused and deluded as exhibited by your claim:"

::CHAOS PLAYBACK::

"Jim there is nobody in this game today better at playing mind games than yours truly."

::END::

"On yourself? I sure ain't seen it in action otherwise. I HAVE seen someone make a certain someone else cry in the ring though, so...there is _that_. By mind games do you mean masquerading as Myst over the phone, 'cause no one fell for that, Trish Chaos. You aren't referrin' to your textbook For Dummies run-ins are you? Oh wait, I know...you must mean your mutiny on the bounty of Ax3. Reverse that, cabin boy Kristin, this Cap'n Blight quelled your riot and unceremoniously booted your ass outta Ax3. At this point I don't think anyone knows exactly what "mind games" you're the best at other than, I'll say it again and cement it, your own weak mind. So weak you can no longer hide your horny insatiable hunger for my Mjolnir."

::CHAOS PLAYBACK::

"I watched you come into this business, and my first thought was "goddamn, that guy is huge!" ...You were... ...rock hard... ...Hell, I even... (tried) ...to give you a little handy in the locker room... ...did I not? I pulled out all the stops, but you didn't give it to me."

::END::

"Wow...from Freudian Slips to frank admissions. You people think I'm makin' this up?? It's _right there_ in his promo!

K, first off-" I lisp-whistle the s in my next word to glass shattering effect. "-sssssweety, don't comment on the size o' my wang, it creeps. Don't you fuckin' deny that's what you meant either, I'm 5'9" and you're taller. To cover bases, if I'd just "come into this business" you also wouldn't know if I was "big" in the definitive sense. As well, if I'd just "come into this business" I couldn't POSSIBLY be considered "big" to begin with. I'd have no precedent would I? Finally, I _didn't_ just come into this business, ya dizzy dumbshit, I've been competing since '96. If you meant the XWF, SPECIFY, as _clearly_ there are a plethora of competitor federations and, although the Xtreme Wrestling Federation IS the pinnacle, the XWF in no way could envelope the definition o' this entire business. Which, sad to say, brings us back to my original complaint. You were watchin' me in the showers when you thought "that guy is huge!", weren't you? ...WEREN'T YOU, CHRISTA!?" I instantly drop the ferocity. "I'm not surprised. What with your talk o' me and cum in your mouth, me not tossin' your salad and now this it can be said Chris Chaos is madly in lust over Jim Caedus. I'm flattered Cuck but I'm taken. Tala, remember? She and her sis Jas' kicked the estrogen outta you and the testosterone outta your B-F Jen. Oh Lord...fam, am I wrong in this? How many of us guys ever get to ACCURATELY announce "my girlfriend beat your ass into the mat" to another "dude"?

Chris? "Dude"?

M
Y

W
O
M
A
N

F
U
C
K
E
D

Y
O
U

U
P
.

Oh shit, Chris, can you hear it?"

"Can ya hear the people laughin' at you?"

"Personally I think they're prob'ly still laughin' about that love poem you recited to my dick. Hey, we're laughin' at you regardless and that's what really counts, right? On the subject o' jokes:"

::CHAOS PLAYBACK::

"Jim for the first time since anyone cares to remember, the stakes are high on you. The pressure is on you. Can you feel it Jim? Can you feel it pressing down on your chest like an elephant sitting on your sternum?"

::END::

"No, Cuckaroo, I can't and I don't think Danny would appreciate you talkin' about his God in such a cavalier manner either. What part o' me sayin' "Fuck it" to all the negativity in my first promo didn't you get, ya gimp ass Florida Gator gayrod? Fucksake, it's like you pressed play on my vignette and just scrolled the bar to the end. Maybe that's why you thought I spoke so little about you. That innate ignorance you have'll cost ya, Cuckster...when it truly matters most: high above the ring in the rafters. This is why those who bet on me did so you fool. It ain't so much "I have your number" as it is you lose your shit when you face me. Some things never change...but keep fantasizin' you've got me where you want me. It'll make the resounding shatter o' your dreams all the more ear-splitting.

Well...enough o' this shit. You've taken a header to the concrete already and the match ain't even started. For a gal screamin' how much of a threat she is you sure have proven how inept you actually are. You're a downer Christina...

Hey, wait...I know what'll liven things up..."

::FADE TO BLACK::

○○○○○○○○○○○○○○○○○○○

The following production includes ACTORS grey-area portraying characters, names and events not owned by CAEDUS FILMS LLC. Any resemblance to and/or infringement of incidents and/or the real person(s) is blatant and intentional but under the protective umbrella of claimed parody you still can't sue, so fuck off. Disclaimer FTW.

::The afternoon rain descends from dark clouds above in a deluge, the streets devoid of denizens...save for one: a young boy or girl (and it isn't that we can't see this "it" clearly, we can, it's just this human child is completely androgynous in features and body language) clad in a cliché primary-yellow rain slicker and rubber hat, fiddling with something in it's lap.

We close in... The item is a doll, a Barbie brand to be exact, but not some version sold in stores, a bastardized mutation constructed by the child itself composed of Ken from the waist up and Barbie's bottom half. The toy is fully garmentless and the child seems to be tying the doll's wrists together behind it's back with a twist-tie. Creepy.

Once satisfactorily bound, the doll is plopped into the gutter, currently flowing with a swift current of rain water. Like a murdered transsexual dumped in a river the doll floats away. The child smiles::

"You brought this upon yourself. Momma said it's a sin."

::The youth then skips down the sidewalk in pursuit of it's floating doll, laughing and clapping along the way...until the doll shoots down a storm drain. Concern suddenly washes over the child, as if it just watched _itself_ disappear into the darkness. As if it went too far with a decision it never took stock in to begin with::

"Oh no! OH NO! Come back!"

::Utterly distraught at the loss, the youngster steps into the street to drop to it's knees and peer into the storm drain after the doll.

A voice rises from the depths, echoing...::

"What am I lookin' at here? If this is what this country's tolerance experiment has led to, a transgender doll for kids, I'm gonna-"

:The voice stops without warning...

The child, doll forgotten, leans closer to the storm drain, tilting it's right ear to the opening curiously.

Silence.
.
.
.
.
.
.
.
.
.
.
.
.
.
.
.
.
.
.
.
.
.
.
.
.
.
.
.
.
.
.
.
.
.
.
.
.
.
.
.
.
.
.
.
.
.
.
.
.
.
.
.
.
.
.
.
.
.
.
.
.
.
.
.
.
.
.
.
.
.
[Image: Yu7tOmD.jpg]

"S'up," says a clown as it pops up from the ebony in the sewer.

::The child shrieks in shock. The clown rolls his eyes::

"In the name o' Tim Curry's balls...don't tell me you're afraid o' clowns like _everyone_ else "is" just to fit in, kid."

Frowning. "No it's not that, you just scared me. Who are you? You look kind of like that clown from the movie It, just not as-"

"If you were about to say "just not as terrifying" I weep for the youth of America. I ain't no cinema-reboot clown, kid, I'm the real deal. The original gangsta, the godfather of oil-based facepaint horror. I'm Pantywise the Flashing Clown."

"Pantywise? I thought it was Pennywise. Pennywise the _Dancing_ Clown."

"Nope, _Pantywise_ the Clown. Whaddya want, I'm popular as fuck with the bitches and, unfortunately, the bearded ladies. Also, I don't dance. Dancin' is for dummies, sluts and those without pride. I flash, kid. Flash."

"What's flashing? Can I see?"

"Is my name Micheal Graves? No you can't see! Don't you _worry_ about what flashin' is, lil' girl!"

"I'm not a little girl!"

::The clown's eyes widen. He looks perplexed::

"Huh? You sure about that?"

"Of course I am!"

"Sorry little guy, I took a wild guess-"

"I'm not a little guy either!"

"Hmmm. Ok, the doll's makin' more sense now. The fuck you _mean_ you ain't a girl, you ain't a guy!? You _gotta_ be one or the other!"

"Nope!"

"Well what the hell are you then??"

"Momma says I'm what God made me."

"And that is...?"

"An abomination, silly!"

"Christ, kid...you're makin' me feel real bad for you. And guilty. Here I am plottin' to have you for dinner and- I mean have you OVER for dinner. Heh..heh heh heh."

::He fidgets nervously::

"Oh yeah?? Whatcha having??"

::Pantywise adopts a look of relieved innocence::

"Ohhhh just some Kraft Mac & Cheese, corn dogs, pizza bites...whatever else it is you kids like to pig out on these days. I suppose we could have anything you want."

"Could we have ice cream??"

::The clown's eyes darken as he grins fiendishly::

"Of _course_ we can! I have EVERY flavor too!"

"Even Tutti-"

"-Frutti? Yeah, I even have Tutti fuckin' Frutti ya lil' fruit. Care to join me for a bowl? You'll eat so much you'll bloat. They _all_ bloat down here."

"YEAH!"

::Pantywise's grin becomes that of a predator's::

"Okie doke, just come a little bit closer and I'll help you in."

::The kid isn't too bright-::

"K."

::-and crawls forward, reaches his arm into the storm drain-

-the calling out of an indistinguishable name from a mother some distance away can be heard. The child looks up, unaware of the clown closing in-::

[Image: Ax48v6r.jpg]

::-then pulls the vulnerable limb away from danger just in time::

"Hey, wait, what're you doin'? You want that ice cream don't you?"

::The child hops up::

"Sorry Pantywise, I gotta go!"

::The kid scurries off::

"No, no wait! WAIT!! GET BACK HERE!!"

::Nothing but the staccato of rain drops responds. The clown snarls::

"I'll get you yet you creepy lil' fuck, I swear it. No one escapes Pantywise. No one..."

::And on that note, the clown slinks back into the darkness...::

"shIT"

÷÷÷÷÷÷

---20 Years Later---

---The Town of Skerry---

::FADE IN::

::An extremely feminine man(?) taps away at his keyboard, typing up, from what we can see on the screen, a post on some kind of fantasy wrestling game website. He pauses, furrowing his brow::

"Goddamn writer's block... I _hate_ facing this guy; he's gonna humiliate me again I just know it. He scares the hell out of me and yet, oddly enough...he arouses me too. Why am I sugar coating it in private, the guy gets me stiff as fuck, who am I kidding?"

::He finally continues and in minutes he finishes, posting the new thread entitled "OVERTHEEDGE"::

"Screw it. Not my best...not even my mediocre come to think of it but it'll have to do."

::He signs off the site and signs in to Skype. He speaks aloud as he types...::

"Hey guys, I interview Hornswoggle tonight and we're doing a Sky Low Low tribute show. Anyone care to listen?"

::A few responses pop up::

"Fine, fuck you too."

::He signs off Skype and turns to his turntables and recording equipment in thought::

"Naaaah, I can start on the new hip hop album tomorrow."

::He glances at his column assignment for work, an employee of Gay Times Magazine. The note from his boss reads, "Get that interview with Chris Chaos from XWF. The twinks and dykes demand to know what category he officially falls under!". He sighs::

"It can wait..."

::He plucks up his phone, checks his contacts list, ponders and finally chooses...

A male voice answers in his native tongue::

"मुझसे बात करो."

::The feminine man speaks and he does so with a weak mimic of a female voice::

"Ooooo, a f-f-foreigner, I l-love it. Are you m-milk chocolate brown, sexy?"

::FemMan winces as his lifelong stutter surfaces like it always does when he's nervous.

The male on the other end responds in English::

"Bill? Bill Chaos, is that you?"

::Bill smiles slightly and mouths "damn" before he continues with the woman's voice::

"N-no this is Bev. B-Beverly Myst. And you're Michael Imperial (n-not to b-b-be confused with actor Michael Imperioli). We both went to school with Bill, remember? We were all in the P-p-p-posers Club together? You were the token pseudodarkie?"

::Bill (William Christopher Chaos) had formed the Losers Posers Club in junior high school because birds of a feather flock together and no one else would have them. In all there were 6 members. Mike Imperial here, as Bill said, repped as the one colored Poser who possessed the typical level of arrogance and personally perceived toughness that exists in all non-white-among-whites heathens who relish pale-skinned acceptance and fully sell out their own racial flavor to copycat the swagger of the coolest of Caucasians (in Mike's case, his hero XWF wrestler Jim Caedus)::

"Yeah, I remember the Posers Club and I remember Bev but this ain't her. Stop fucking around Bill, you used to do this all the time back then and I'd know that stupid stuttery voice anywhere, even if it is an octave lower than usual. Nice to hear from you."

::Bill mocks high pitched laughter::

"Oh, very funny, M-mike! I promise you this is Bev. Bill found out you're back in Skerry and he asked m-m-me to call and s-see if you wanted to hang out and have an XWF Monday Night Madness p-party like we used to when we were kids."

"Bill, today's Tuesday you idiot. And Madness doesn't run anymore anyway, it's Warfare every other Wednesday and Savage every Saturday now but the next live event is the Leap of Faith pay per view this weekend. We could check out WWE tonight if you want though. I'm not much into the pussy PG-ish tone but we can compare it to XWF and talk shit. Could be fun. I'm sure the others would think so too. You should hit them up...Bill."

"I w-will but hey, this isn't B-b-bill, cutie."

"Cool, Bill, still creepy as fuck. I'll see you all tonight then, we'll make it a reunion."

::Imperial ends the call. Bill Chaos locates and picks another contact. It rings...::

"Hello!"

::Bill tries the voice again::

"Hi Ritchie, it's B-bev Myst."

::Richie Main, the smartass big mouth of the Posers Club. Never knows when to shut the fuck up, his penile-pube-plucker-toothed trap writing checks his dick-socket ass can't cash except when he beats you up. Frustrating guy that way. When he was a kid someone hit him in the head with a big rock, knocking him half

and reducing his speech and grammar patterns to clipped fragments and constant shouting, so he joined the Posers Club to rep those with speech impairment due to head wounds::

"Bill! Hi!"

::Bill's right eye twitches twice::

"N-no really, it's B-b-b-" He smacks himself in the face. "-Beverly Myst!"

"Bill! I know it is you! You lie! I will beat you! You will do nothing, about it!"

"It's Bev, R-ritchie, and I heard you pause as if you used a comma and it was a nice one, sexy! It wasn't in the right place and there w-wasn't really a need for one in that particular fragment but good job actually trying to improve and ch-change a flaw! Now let's talk contractions of words like it and is to it's- "

::Bill flips his middle finger at the phone::

"Fuck you Bill! Shrimp dick!"

[b]"It's B-bev, R-ritchie, a woman. The-therefore, shrimp or not, I don't have a di-" Bill mentally regards who it is he's referencing. "Well it isn't shrimpy, that's for sh-sh-sure." Bill smiles slyly at that play. Totally believable even with the-

"The stutter! Bill! I know the stutter!"

[b]"S-see? Right there I heard you p-pause because you DIDN'T use a comma when you SHOULD ha- Screw it. WWE party tonight, Main?"

"Ok Bill!"

::Bill ends the call swiftly::

"G-got to get rid of this d-damn stutter, it gives m-me away! I n-need to practice my l-l-linguistic gymnastics... He takes d-dudes' skeet into his throat and still insists he s-sucks no p-posts. He takes dudes' skeet into his throat and still insists he s-sucks no posts. He takes dudes' skeet into his throat and still insists he sucks no posts. There we go. Confidence restored and cured."

::Bill checks his contacts again. He pauses over the name Scully. Eddie Scully, the full

of the Posers Club and a limey on top of it, a double-dipshit whammy. Without the stutter, Bill Chaos could definitely pull one over with the Myst voice on the full

. He hits call...

Scully answers in "Special Ed" Crank Yankers fashion::

"Hiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiii!"

"Why _Eddie Scully_, is that you you hot British piece of 35-IQ ass? This is Bev Myst, how are you?" No stutter. Bill gestures silently with a "YES, nailed it!" pump movement of the right arm.

"Oh hiiiiiiiiiiiiii Biiiiiiiiiill! Hiiiiiiiii!"

::He drops the voice::

"Fuck you Scull'. WWE party tonight. My place."

"Kaaaay! Bye-byyyyy-" Chaos ends call, cutting him off.

::Bill again peruses his contacts and locates the next Poser, pressing call. It rings...::

"The knell of fell Autumn leaves
Nautical dusk and rape cabin carpets
Spotty at best
My heart burns there too"
"-is not available. At the tone, please record your message. When you are finished recording you may hang up or press pound for more options."

BEEP

::Bill Chaos scowls and hangs up. He re-checks the contact and picks the alternate number::

"Thank you for calling Artsy Fartsy, this is Stanley. How may I help you?"

::Stanley Benjamin Hanscom-Reno, product of a broken home, the radically douchey new age emo beatnik of the Club. He earns his sheckles working the fairy counter at the hobby store in Skerry but he also professionally moonlights as a menorah polisher and poet. He joined the Posers Club in junior high because he was a little jackass nobody liked who enjoyed starting shit with people then running and hiding behind the teacher to avoid comeuppance but also after word spread he slept on vinyl sheets. He's in love with Beverly Myst and uses the poem he wrote her in junior high as his outgoing message.

Now...Bill Chaos never was one for learning from his mistakes in the past so naturally today shall CONTINUE to be no different and he chooses, CHOOSES by God, to go with the Bev voice...again::

"Oh Stanley Ben, my hunk-a-Hebrew-hipster love, it's your white trash desire, Bever-"

"Amid the calm a maelstrom of lies
Fraudulent flies
Buzz hither and yon in Chaos
Nay and foul, deceitful beast
From Frost's balls I stab at thee.

I'm at work, Bill.

Fuck off.

Please."
☆☆☆☆

::Bill Chaos withers and spitefully prods without the voice- ::

"Why still with the pretentious poetry?"

"Why still pretend to be Bev Myst when everyone know it's you?"

"Touché."

"Indeed."

"WWE party tonight, my house."

"I'll be there."

::Bill ends the call.

He has one last member to contact, his former love, Bev herself. He locates her number and dials::

Riiiiiiiing

Riiiiiii-

"Hello?"

::Bill decides that using Bev's voice and persona when calling the actual Beverly Myst wouldn't make any sense.::

"Beverly?? It's me, B-bev!"

::But he does it anyway::

"Ugh."

::She hangs up::

"Fine, fuck you bitch. You aren't invited."

÷÷÷÷÷÷

---That Evening---

::The doorbell rings at Bill's place::

BING BOOONG

"Hold ooooon," he calls out from elsewhere in the house.

::Several seconds pass and the doorbell rings a second time::

BING BOOONG

"Just a minuuuuute,"

::A few more seconds and- ::

BING BOOONG

"Hold up, almost theeeeere!"

BING BOOONG

::We cut to Bill standing in his room, his pants around his ankles and bent over before an older poster of XWF star Jim Caedus with the Universal Title over his shoulder. He's breathing erratically and thrusting some sort of object into his ass with his right hand while massaging his own chest with his left, pulling at his nipples one by one::

BING BONG-BING BONG-BING BOOONG

"I'm comiiiiiiing!!"

BING BONG-BING BONG-BING BONG-BING BONG-

::Bill jerks and seizures, ignoring the doorbell ringing becoming increasingly rapid fire::

-BING-BING-BING-BING-BING-BING-BI-

::He shivers, perspiring, smiling, standing up straight, head back, eyes closed...::

-NG-BING-BING-BING-B-

::He drops his chin and opens his eyes, turning around and winking to the Jim Caedus poster. He raises the popsicle he was sodomizing himself with to his nose and sniffs it before deep throating the whole thing.

Jim winks back::

-ING-BING-BING-

::Bill offers a tickled frown of confusion, pulls the bare stick free and swallows.

Jim speaks::

"I heard you can do that with a corn dog too-"

-BING-BING-

::His head morphs into that of an all too-familiar clown, growling out- ::

"-Bill Chaos."

-BING-

::Pantywise bares his fangs, leaping free from the poster, reaching for Bill. Bill shrieks and falls back, covering his face in terror::

BING-BING-BING-BING-BING-BING

::When no attack comes, he slowly lowers his hands...Pantywise is gone and the poster is as it was::

BING-BING-BING-BING-BING-BING

::Bill hops to his feet, shaken, pulls his pants and thong up and zips before zipping out of his room to the front door.

He flings it open and exclaims in relief- ::

"Oh thank god you guys are here!"

"Why Bill, what happened?"

::His eyes widen in horror. Pantywise::

"Get caught with your pants down? Woohoohoohoo!! RRRRR!!"

::The clown roars, fangs out, saliva flying::

Bill slams the door in fear.

He remains there, panting, gaze fixed upon the door::

"Pssst."

::He spins.

Pantywise!!::

"Boo."

::The clown, eyes suddenly red and frighteningly bulging out from his skull a good 4 inches, lunges with vicious hooks for claws seeking to tear the flesh from Bill's form.

Bill stumbles back into the front door::

KNOCK KNOCK KNOCK

::He blinks at the pounding behind him.

Pantywise is gone::

KNOCK-

::He jumps::

-KNOCK KNOCK

::In a cold sweat now, Bill turns to look through the door's peephole::

"Chaos? What the hell are you doing, open the door!"

::Bill checks behind himself, no clown. He shakes off the vision, chest still heaving in panic as he opens the door. The Posers Club, minus Bev, greet him::

"Hiiiiiiiii Biiiiiiiiiill! Hiiiiiiiiiii!"

Bill motions them in, eyes scanning the front yard and street for any sign of the clown::

"Cuh-come in, come in, h-hurry!"

::Once they've been ushered in safely, he closes the door and locks it::

"Bill! What's your problem!?"

"Beyond the usual he means."

"H-he was...h-he was here!"

"Who?"

"Yes! Who!?"

::Bill thinks twice before blurting it out. Maybe it'd all been in his head. Yeah, yeah that's it. He's been under too much stress lately, that's all. ...So why does he feel so afraid?::

[b]"N-no one. No one."

"Mysterious musk airs closeted love
Latex sheathless, vinyl sheets
Spring rain upon his face like tears
Protein injections, ground zero rear
Men's stall walls speak his name
And spell it AIDS

Bill, you got a boy back there?

You do don't you?

Admit it."
☆☆☆☆

"Haw haw haaaaaw!!!! Bum bum bumzies!!"

::Bill knows the accusation isn't far from the recent truth so he deflects::

"Sh-shut up you guys, let's get this p-party started!"

::A friendly reunion montage ensues including painfully cliché scenes the likes of the Club watching wrestling and joining in with a few headlocks and slams, dining on delivery pizza, joking, laughing, drinking alcohol, someone shouting, a shoving match, crying, more laughing and reminiscing on old times::

::FADE TO BLACK::

::Mike Imperial, strongly buzzed, saunters into Bill's bathroom, lifts the toilet lid and takes a long piss. When he's finished he zips up and flushes::

GLUG-GLUG-GLUG-GLUG

::He checks himself in the medicine cabinet mirror......then turns to leave::

"I didn't see you wash those hands, mister. Geez, you can take the coconut crackin' diaper-jockey outta the 3rd World but ya can't take the 3rd World outta the coconut crackin' diaper-jockey."

::Imperial screeches to a halt and turns::

"Who'zzat? Bill? You in here?"

::He pulls aside the shower curtain to an empty tub::

"Guess again."

::He notices the voice is originating from the vicinity of the sink. He cautiously approaches...and investigates::

"Close but no sitar, rumdog swillionaire."

::Imperial's eyes snap to the toilet::

"I know that voice...it can't be you. We killed you. This is all a product of too much alcohol and my imagination."

"Shiva sucks cocks in Hell."

::That definitely came from the toilet. Imperial inches over slowly......peers in......

The bowl is oddly devoid of water......

Silence.......

He kneels to closely inspect......

A column of diarrhea gushes forth from the bowl, belching free, completely painting Michael Imperial in liquid shit. He hollers in horrified disgust.

Reno, Scully, Chaos and Main arrive en masse moments later just as the poop stream ends, jaws dropping at the sight of it all.

Every inch of the bathroom is covered in loose stool::

"My bathroom!!"

"HAW HAW HAW!!!! POOPY!!!!"

"M-mike what the f-fuck happened!?"

"HE POOOOOOOPED!! POOPY POOP POOP!! HAW HAW HAW!!!!"

"Eddie Scully, shut the fuck up!"

"AAAAAAALL OVER!!!! POOPY!!!! HAW HAW HAW!!!!"

::Main backhands him::

"Scully! Shut! Up!"

::Reno flinches::

"Honk honk, Ritchie.

That was harsh.

Take it easy on the Dudditz."
☆☆☆☆

"Who is the Dudditz!?"

"Oh right, damn.

Wrong Stephen King material.

Wrong

]
[b]☆☆☆☆

"What!?"

"Will you two sh-SHUT UP!?? Mike...w-what the hell happened in here??"

"It was him. Somehow he- ...he survived. We didn't kill him...and now...he's back for revenge!"

::A knowing look crosses Chaos's face::

"Who!? Who is back!?"

::Bill answers for him::

"Pantywise the Flashing Clown."

÷÷÷÷÷÷

---Moments later---

::Gathered back in the living room, Imperial's spot on the couch covered with a large black garbage bag beneath his still shitty self, the Posers Club engages in a heated discussion::

[yellow]"Ok, fuck the poetry...Pantywise can't be back.

We killed him.

I was there.
☆☆☆☆

"N-no. It's him, I saw him too."

"Impossible! Reno is right! We killed him!"

"Main, must you always shout?"

"Have you all forgotten?

The epic battle?

The climax?"
☆☆☆☆

::The Posers Club had indeed faced down Pantywise before, taken a stand in the face of his infamy after he'd torn through more than half the town of Skerry, below the town's very streets in the sewers...::

::FLASHBACK DISSOLVE::

"TURTLE POWER!"

::Pantywise expertly pilots a skateboard 360° around the interior of a huge, broken sewer pipeline, rolling at top speed towards the Club. He shoots out of the pipe landing a mere fifteen feet away on ground level then suddenly somersaults forward with the board, lands on his feet and cracks Scully in the temple with it truck first, dropping him with a sneeze-like spray of crimson. The red spritz spackles the clown's white face paint. He cackles::

"Cowabunga, douuuche! HAHAHAHAHAAA!"

::He executes a backflip away from the group::

"Scully!"

::Bill Chaos gathers the remaining members close::

"Everyb-body stay c-close together! If you aren't afraid, he c-c-can't hurt you!"

"C-c-c-closer now, kids. It'll make it e-e-e-easier to KILL YOU ALL AT ONCE! HAHAHAHAHA!!"

::Bev gathers her courage and sneers::

"Listen to Bill, he knows what he's talking about! This clown isn't scary at all!"

::Pantywise adopts an over-the-top look of "awwwwww"- ::

"I'm not scaawwy, Bev? I'm not scaawwy?"

:: -then vanishes::

[Image: nj6VUPF.jpg]

::-popping up inches away from her face moments later, clown nose shooting off, his mouth ripping open, a nightmare of flesh and bones surging forth from somewhere within him.

Bev screams, Bill shoves her aside to safety::

[i][b]"Leave her alone!!"

::The surge of viscera knocks Bill hard into the concrete wall.

Main, Reno, Myst and Imperial back away::

"HEEEEY YOOOOOOU GUUUUUUUYS!!"

::From outta nowhere- well, from atop a high stack of metallic storage drums after having swiftly recovered, Eddie Scully leaps down upon the grotesquely monstrous Pantywise form swinging a length of 2x4. The descending hit knocks the clown so hard on the crown it clamps his jaws shut, severing the visceral "tongue". After Scully lands, he swings a second time, splitting the wood in half across the clown's face.

Pantywise stumbles to the ground::

"Fuckin'

strength... How the hell are you still alive??"

"Because like me...Scully can take a hit, clown."

::The others rejoice as Chaos rejoins, recovered from his hit as well.

Pantywise stands, dusting himself off::

"I very much wanna kill you all. So...I think I will."

[Image: g0dRqRJ.jpg]

::Becoming a massive, wormlike beast, Pantywise lunges for the Posers Club!

Imperial stands his ground::

"Oh fuck this!"

::Worm-Pantywise hesitates, taking eleven shots from a pistol.

The Posers all turn to regard Imperial in shock. He shrugs, colt barrel smoking::

"What?"

"COOOOOOOL!! POW POW POW!!"

"How'd you get a GUN Dan- er, Mike?"

"You really asking someone of color how they have a gun? Why you acting brand new?"

"You're 13 years old Mike.

You live in Skerry, Maine.

It's a fair question."
☆☆☆☆

"I'M pretty curious."

::Worm-Pantywise chimes in::

"Answer the fuckin' question, Jihad."

"Look, if you guys wanna use one too just ask, I brought two more."

::Imperial does indeed pull two automatic weapons from his backpack, handing one to Ritchie Main and the other to Eddie Scully::

"You know what to do boys."

"But I didn't get to show you all why they call me Pantywise the FLASHING Clown!"

"Sorry Clown...you're going down."

"FAAAAG!! FUCK your reply-"

"FIRE!!"

::Worm-Pantywise takes every shell......sways......bleeds......and finally collapses, crashing through to subterranean levels further below.

The Posers Club all nod to eachother in turn::

"We make a pact, here and now...to NEVER forget what happened here lest he-"

"Oh fuck that, Bill. Never forget? To tits with that, I'm suppressing the hell out of this!"

::The others immediately agree::

"Bev, what are doing? We're going out, you're supposed to back me up."

"No, she's right.

Ignorance is bliss.

This wasn't."
☆☆☆☆

"Stick it up your ass, Edgar Poe, you agree because you want her! You always have!"

"Chaos, what if Pantywise has power like Freddy Krueger? If we remember him, he'll come back. Get it? I agree with Bev."

"Me too!"

"POW POW POW!! HAW HAW HAW HAW HAW HAW!!"

::DISSOLVE TO PRESENT DAY WITH THE POSERS CLUB::

"Ok, AND, Reno!? How did that flashback solidify your case that Pantywise isn't back!?"

"He's right Stanley Ben; if anything, in hindsight, you've only aided our argument."

"He is right! I change my opinion!"

"POOPY EVERYWHERE!! HAW HAW HAW!!"

"Ok, ok. I admit.

I was wrong.

My bad."
☆☆☆☆

"So what do we do!?"

"We do what we did last time, Ritchie...fight back."

::The sound of a massive blown razzberry echoes throughout Chaos's home...and from every faucet, every drain, every wall socket...diarrhea gushes forth.

The boys hop up and head for the door running out as fast as they can as they receive the dumpy spray::

ALL: "shIIIIIIIIIIIIIIT!!"

::BLACK::

T
O

B
E

C
O
N
T
I
N
U
E
D

Threaded Mode \| Linear Mode Amping Up
Author	Message