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Chris Chaos · (06-03-2018)

The lines were already out the door and around the corner. People were lined up like Wal-Mart on Black Friday, ready to see their prodigal son in his triumphant return to Tampa Bay. The ticket office at Amalie Arena was flooded with Florida trash, in all of their redneck glory, waiting to overpay for tickets to see a man who made it out of the shit they call daily life.

The tinted out Jeep rolled past, down Channelside Drive, the V6 motor humming along to the tune of the music coming from within.

He remembered when this place was the Ice Palace. Shit, he was getting old. The St. Pete Times Forum was more "his time". He remembered going to wrestling events there as a kid, admiring their every move. He remembered telling himself that he was going to be a wrestler one day--but like most kids in Florida, his dreams died. He became a fighter, sure, but that was only because Bruce, his now mentor and friend, watched him take down four men in an East Tampa bar fight and decided to promote in him the boxing circuit. Chris had football potential and talent, but his life was off the rails. He had to sell drugs just for a ticket to the wrestling shows he loved so much, and throughout the years they came to Tampa less and less.

Now his company--literally--was here. The company he ruled with an iron fist, the company that would crumble like blue cheese without him, was coming to Tampa. He pulled his Jeep into the back lot, reserved for acts coming to Amalie. The garage opened for him.

Last time XWF came to Tampa, they were on the campus of USF, his alma mater, and he took apart McBride. This time he actually had competition. However, this was the big arena in Tampa, this and Raymond James, if you were performing in Tampa, this is where you wanted to do it.

Walking through the locker room area and pressing the lock button on his Jeep, causing a beep that echoed through the empty corridor, he made his way out towards the ring.

Walking down the ramp, he imagined his music hitting and the pyro. He imagined the crowd cheering. Even though he was a heel by wrestling terms, he would get that hometown pop. He imagined the feeling of walking down the ramp he had seen many of his idols walk down so many times before.

He knew right now, in the front of the building, there was a collections of toothless rednecks in racing tees ready to gobble up their welfare checks on tickets to see HIM. And it made him grin.

Climbing into the ring, he climbed the turnbuckle and threw his arms up. It was all so surreal to him. This was real. He couldn't let this moment go. Just as he was coming down from the ropes he heard some music blaring from the side of the stage, as one of the workers putting the rampway together for the show had a Beats Pill he was listening to music on. Chaos, normally would be annoyed that his time was disrupted, was intrigued. He hopped down and walked to the left side of the ramp where the man was.

"Hey, brother man, let me ask you something. That song you are playing there, what is it?"

The man seemed humbled that Chaos was talking to him.

"You----you're Chris Chaos. You're the local sensation that is taking the XWF by storm!"

Chris couldn't help but smile.

"Yes, that is me...."

The man seemed nervous, but he spoke up again.

"The song is Itty Bitty Piggy by Nicki Minaj. It is one of the hottest songs out right now."

"You said, Itty---Bitty-----Piggy?"

The man nodded.

"Perfect."

Chris took his phone out of his jeans pocket.

"I'm gonna need you to send that to me."

He exchanged numbers with the man, taking a selfie to show his friends. As he walked away he dapped the man with a fist bump.

"Itty Bitty Piggy....too perfect."

"Talk about a blast from the past. Peter and I have to defend our belts against the on-again-off-again former "marine" who looks more like he took boot camp training at Denny's national head quarters than at Parris Island, and perhaps the biggest--literally--disappointment this side of the Mississippi, Robbie Bourbon. A disaster of 'Universal' proportions, Robbie is actually good when he gives a shit. Problem with Robbie is a lack of motivation. If he isn't taking us on some Sci-Fi quest or making jokes that 9 year olds would think are corny, he is actually a decent wrestler. I have been in the ring with Robbie many a time now, but the last time we saw him was when Jenny and I beat him and Mandii in her return tag match. Before that Robbie and I had an epic Universal Title showdown that ended with me being screwed over by Archie. Robbie and I are very familiar with each other in the ring. I never underestimate him, because you never know when he is going to become inspired all of the sudden, but something tells me that if I am saying I am having my good friend at Spotlight Catering in Tampa cater the event, that might light a fire under his ass. Robbie will go anywhere with free food.

My hometown.....the type of match I like, chaotic. Robbie and Pig, the former Motherfuckers butt brothers, vs. the unlikely duo of Chaos and Gilmour. Empire. Empire vs. Body by Bacon. Steel Cage. Titles on the line. It doesn't get much better. I see one of the little piggies already opened his mouth and decided it was a good idea to go in front of an XWF camera crew. Jesus jumping fucking Jones, can someone put out something meaningful in this place anymore? I will admit I was excited to see Pig's first promo, and I was more let down than a Nicholas Cage movie. So much potential, so little output. So many words, such little said. I am pretty sure this dude has some serious PTSD because that ending made about as much sense as Trump's gun reform. The fact that you think we are afraid of you is a knee slapper, truly. What have "The Motherfuckers" ever done but talk a lot of shit and be more useless than Drezdin's computers spellcheck? They were a team that had the fire power to take this company by storm, to burn it to the ground, to be the new NWO, and they fizzled out like flat soda. There is nothing about this team of over-sized misfits that scares me in the least. But I am curious about something.........

Pig, I am curious as to how it feels to play second fiddle to Robbie Bourbon? How does it feel to be in the shadows of a man whose a sure fire Golden Corrall hall-of-famer? How does it feel to be riding the coattails of a man whose most noted for being fat, and thats it? Robbie Bourbon has a Uni title to his name, sure, but what else has he done? What are his accomplishments in the ring? What are yours? I dispatched Mezian at Second Chance and showed the world that I am the best in the world at what I do, and I am going to come into this match to prove the same. Neither of you two fucksticks could hold a candle to me.

How does it feel, Pig, to be "The Motherfuckers" version of Peter Gilmour?

I am sorry Petey, and don't take offense to that, but Pig, Robbie has carried you during your entire time in that little 'stable' of yours. I carried Peter to the tag titles, and I will be the solid foundation he needs to be at the top. Peter Gilmour is in the limelight, in the main event picture, in the short-term memory of these fans because of me. Let's be clear on that. You, Pig, are only known to anyone because you're associated with the XWF's Chris Farley.

Fatty falls down, and people laugh.

That is all you two are. A punchline, a witty ending to a joke, but not the substance that makes it whole. You're both on a level way below mine. You see, Peter and I have a bit of a rivalry, sure, but don't think that is going to get in the way of our success. In fact, it may just drive us further. We both want to be the best, and I already happen to be. Now, we are getting Peter up to speed. It won't take long. Peter is now a 5 time Tag Champ, and a Universal Champion as well. He is in good company being teamed with me. There is a reason he chose me to be his mystery partner. He knows I get the job done. There is a reason that half this roster forgot you were even still a member of it, Piggy.

So between your incompetence and Robbie's knack for disappearing for long stretches of time, what are the Vegas on on Warfare ending with team National Geographic hoisting up these straps?

I'd say about 0 Kelvin.

Look it up.

Empire prevails in this one, folks, and Tampa Bay has never been so hot!

53-21-2

Threaded Mode \| Linear Mode Itty Bitty Piggy....and that Rob Guy.
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