“Loss after loss after loss…”

Charlie spoke softly as he slid further into the bathtub full of bubbles and dirty water. His unusually weak voice rang true with sorrow and regret.

“You’ve never been good enough…”

Charlie brings his calloused hands out of the water. His fingernails are cracked and yellow. In his right hand he gingerly grips a razor blade with the tips of his fingers. Small streams of blood flow down his fingers as he squeezes the blade.

“One for Bourbon….”

Charlie brings the razor blade to his left wrist, slicing it horizontally just below the palm of his hand. He moans in elation as the metal blade cuts across his soggy skin. Blood flows out of the open wound and into the bubble bath.

“One for Omega….”

Charlie brings his right hand down his wrist an inch and a half before sliding the bloody blade across his hairy arm with haste. As the blood flows freely Charlie finds himself entranced with the crimson essence. His eyes are fixated on the marks of beauty as they come to life, gushing with color and passion.

“One for Sar-”

Charlie trails off as the scarlet ichor starts to take shape. Charlie blinks his eyes, but it’s no use. Her face is still staring at him. Mocking him. Charlie shakes his head from side to side, trying to clear his mind.

“No, no, no….”

In the one and a half inch space between the two marks of defeat imprinted onto Charlie’s wrist the face of a woman has been given shape, outlined by the bloody excesses. Her hair falls gently down her face. Her beauty is impeccable.

“Have you come back for me?”

The woman’s bloodcrafted face contorts into an angry scowl as Charlie speaks, the crimson essence flowing with cerebral intent.

“Please...this is for you….”

A mournful expression flashes across Charlie’s face as the bloodcrafted woman moves her gorey lips. No sound emits, but Charlie knows all too well what she wants.

“I try, CONNIE! I do! I try my best EVERY NIGHT to win, to make you proud! To put the food on the table! To pay the bills! To win big! I PROMISE! I’m doing MY BEST!”

Charlie screams at his bloody wrist as the woman’s eyebrows narrow at Charlie. The scarlet image flows across Charlie’s wrist, almost as if the woman were shaking her head from side to side. A few tears drip down Charlie’s face, only to be swallowed up by the blood red bubblebath below.

“I’ll win for you, baby….I will! I will win again!”

Charlie slices his arm once again, an inch below the last mark.

“See, baby?! I’m doing it for you!”

Charlie makes another cut half an inch away from the last one.

“Please baby, COME BACK!”

Charlie slices through his own flesh one more time before the bloody image on his wrist changes expression. The woman’s scowl soon shifts into a contented smile as Charlie makes one more cut just below his elbow. More tears start to fall from Charlie’s face, but these tears seem different. Are these...tears of joy?

“See, baby? I told you I’d do it for you...I’d do anything for you.”

Charlie brings his right hand to the ridge of the bathtub, letting the bloodstained razor blade fall out of his grasp and drop onto the wall of the tub. Charlie then brings his right hand over to his left arm, lifting it up and bringing it to his face. He puckers his lips as he leans in and kisses the bloodcrafted woman. She doesn’t return the favor. Charlie frowns as he tries once more to appease the bloody image of his ex-wife, Connie.

“But why, baby? Am I not good enough for you now? I’ve done everything you ask….”

Charlie’s tone is soft and gentle; however, his face soon scrunches into a wrathful expression as the gorey face screams at Charlie.

“YOU BIII-IITCH! I DID THIS ALL FOR YYYOOOOUUUU!”

Charlie’s demeanor shifts on a dime as the man hurls himself into an incensed frenzy. He pushes his left arm under the bloody bubbles that float atop the surface of the dirty bath water. He holds his wrist down with immense force, as if he were literally trying to drown it.

“DIE! DIE! DIE YOU BITCH!”

Charlie holds his wrist under the water for a solid minute as he screams profanities at it. The seething man’s rage is as clear as his championship belt aspirations. After calming down just a bit he lifts his wrist out from under the water. His sliced up arm looks absolutely hideous, but he doesn’t seem to mind. The blood was washed off by the water, but his hairy wrist stayed clean only for a moment. Within a second blood is once again gushing out of the open wounds, forming into yet another face. This face is thicker than the first, and without any semblance of hair. The face being formed by the scarlet ichor bears an incredible resemblance...but to who? Charlie’s mind is racing, cycling through dozens of faces as he attempts to find a match for the bloody image. The big chin, the shit-eating grin, the absolute lack of a single speck of hair….holy shit, is that…

Jim “The Jim” Jimson kicks down the door to the bathroom, literally breaking apart the hinges and sending it flying across the room. The wooden door slams loudly against the opposite wall of the bathroom. Charlie is taken aback, immediately shifting every bit of his attention to the intruder.

“What the FUCK?!?!”

Jim Jimson looks at Charlie as he points both of his index fingers at the man with the bloody wrist.

“It’s you and me, pal!”

“How the fuck did you get in here?”

“I crawled in through the doggy door”

“This is a motel, there’s not a doggy door, Jack!”

Jim Jimson shrugged with indifference.

“Uhhh….. it’s you and me, pal!”

Jim Jimson points both of his index fingers at Charlie once more.

“You tryna’ fuckin’ scrap, Jack? BRING IT!”

Charlie stands up, his lower body mostly covered in red bubbles as he brings his fists up, ready to box to the death. His expression is sour and his mind is full of rage. A brief look of confusion flashes across Jim’s face before the figurative lightbulb over his head flickers on. Oh shit wait, that’s a real light bulb. Wait, what the fuck? Where did it come from? Wait, what the fuck? Where’d it go? Jimson scratches his head.

“I’m ready for a fight! Come on! COME ON!”

“Uhh….didn’t you hear? We’re teaming up to be the main event for Savage! It’s you and me and Jim and Jim and we’re taking on that friendship stealing bastard JohnnyNotALegend and that fake friend bitch ThunderKnuckles!”

Charlie sighed, bringing his hands down to his waist as he came to realize why Jim is here.

“Ah shit. They don’t tell me anything. I’m sorry, man. I don’t know if I can go on Savage. I’m out of it...I’m just...I don’t know.”

Charlie falls flat on his ass into the bathtub, sending most of the bloody bath water flying out of the tub as he lands.

"Woah, you got some of that cool coloured dye, wait… Jim focus! You can't leave just up and go, you got a match to win, women to conquer, titles to capture or whatever you non-jobbers do. ”

“I don’t have it in me anymore, Jack. I….I think I might hang up my boots. Call it quits. I’ve had a good run. I can’t go any further in this business…”

Jimson looks mad.

"Listen, Char-lee, you family didn't invent the Nickle for you to just give up after you lose one major match! How about this, I'll take you on a relaxing trip to the ocean, just you and me on boat, maybe we will watch the waves pass us, maybe catch some fish or maybe will we bring high caliber weaponry and murder a high ranking group of dolphins before they get the nuclear bombs to bring upon the end of the our world."



a few hours later spongebob.jpg

BANG BANG BANG BANG BANG BANG

Charlie and Jimson unload yet another clip from their AR-15s as they blast dolphin ass in the middle of the atlantic. Their small fishing vessel looks incredibly out of place along the vast ocean blues. About three dozen dolphins float along the surface of the water near their boat, blooding and writhing in pain. Four more dolphins float to the surface after the most recent burst of firepower, joining their soon-to-be-fallen compatriots on the surface of the water. The “special dolphin droppin’ ammo”, as Jimson had called it, was absolutely devastating to the poor ocean rapists. The bullets were specially constructed by Jim Jackstiener to fracture into a hundred pieces once inside the dolphin’s body, releasing lead poison and other toxins that were placed inside the center of the bullet. The rounds were absolutely lethal, but they were not fast acting. The speed at which the bullets would fracture once they penetrated the body of the dolphins meant they could not go far enough to ever puncture important organs. Instead, the bullets were designed to deliver a slow and painful death through manipulation of the dolphin’s neurological systems.

Charlie and Jim seemed to be having an absolute blast on board this ragged old fishing ship. Charlie turned to confide in Jim.

“You know Jimbo, you were right. This dolphin killing business? It’s chicken noodle soup for the soul. Makes a man feel at peace. I’ve never felt more at home. This is worth more than ten thousands sessions with those damned brain doctors.”

"Huh? Yea, totally therapy and whatnot. TASTE MY BULLETS YOU DOLPHIN MOTHERFUCKERS!"

Jim Jimson seems absolutely disinterested, but Charlie doesn’t seem to notice. Charlie continues to ramble on as Jimson taps a hidden button on the side of the boat, a small briefcase comes out of a compartment in this boat, Jim opens it and picks up a device with an antenna protruding out of the bottom of it, Jim then flicks a switch on it and holds it above the water while turning a collection of dials in different directions.

“I’m really feeling good about our tag match now. We got Johnny and Thundy? Shit, if we can take out 80 some odd dolphins there’s no way we can’t take them out!”

Charlie looked over the boat at the forty dying dolphins.

“Shit, we took out damn near a hundred! Johnny Legend isn’t worth 50 dolphins, no fucking way. That dude’s whole shtick is just being a shitty, comedic version of me without the drama or story! Everyfuckingthing he does is oh so ironic and tongue-in-cheek. Management can’t get a goddamn ounce of seriousness out of him. He won’t even give them some sort of story to work with. Everyfuckingthing Johnny does is for cheap laughs from the morons in the upper deck. Fuck laughs. Laughs are easy. I’m going for gasps!”

Jim Jimson absentmindedly nodded along as he tried to track the movements of the remaining dolphins deep beneath the ocean’s surface with this device.

“Johnny and I came into this company at the same god damn time. Since then I’ve battled some of the greats, fought for championship gold, main evented show after show after show. I drew millions of eyes for my marquee match up at Relentless. I was the god damned Superstar of the Month! And what the fuck has he accomplished in that same time? Not a god damned thing. He won some battle royale against a bunch of midcarders on the night of the pay per view that nobody fucking watched? My god, I know the dude likes to pretend to be down on himself but Jesus Christ, if all I had accomplished since July was winning a single battle royale I’d have tied a noose around my neck and put myself out of my own misery. If he’s smart, he’ll get that rope tied tightly before I do it for him on Savage. Isn’t that right, Jacko?”

Charlie looked at Jim for confirmation, but received none. Jim was entirely focused on the machine in front of him. Charlie shrugged, carrying on anyways.

“And his partner? Shiiiiit. What a waste of talent. He should be climbing the card, fighting for the top belts, making his mark on this company. But instead of really challenging himself, he decided to join the job squad. He’d rather waste away looking cool next to “America’s next top child predator” MichEal Graves and Miss “I was an anarchy champion for one show” Fury. Pathetic.”

Jim glared at Charlie, but remained silent. He turned his attention back to his machine, not intent on hearing Charlie talk shit about one of his (formerly) best friends in the whole wide world.

“Thunder Numchuks came at me for that Heavymetalweight belt I got from your bald ass, and he was only able to hold that belt for all of two minutes before he pissed it away. His reign as television champion isn’t going to last much longer. Yeah, sure, he might be able to go over the Action Wrestling reject, but he’s not going to be able to keep that gold around his waist after that. Too many up and comers. Too many people who are in this business for more than just the money. More than just the women. People like ME. People who are in this industry for one reason, and one reason only: to turn people’s flesh inside out and win every goddamned championship there is.”

“Isn’t that two reasons?”

Charlie rolled his eyes, ignoring Jimson’s sassy attitude.

“Thunder Cuckold’s whole mantra, his whole attitude, pisses me the fuck off. I ain’t never had money, but you don’t see me out on the corners slobbering knobs and taking it up the ass for a fiver. That pissant would do anything for a quick buck. It makes me sick. He’s the kind of man to sell out his whole family, sell out his best friends, just to see the numbers in his bank account go up by a few integers.”

“You could kill TKs childhood dog in-front of him, give him 10k of xbux of and he'd thank you for killing it"

“Yeah, that’s the attitude! When we hit that stage on Savage, ohhhhhhhh man, you better believe we’re going to be coming down that ramp with a vengeance. We’re going to be handing out ass whoopings, left and right! We’re gonna be like: “AH! AH! DIE! BOOM! BOOM!”

Charlie shadowboxes the air.

“And they’re gonna be like: “ahhhh, ahhhh pleeaassseeeeeeee Robbie Bourbon come save me. Pleeeeeaasssse MichEal Graves come help me! Ahhhh ahh nooo ahh ah n-”

As Charlie is pretending to be in fear of his life, Jimson’s face lights up with absolutely deviant delight. A sinister smile curls across his lips as his eyes stay locked on the screen in front of him. He cuts Charlie off mid-theatrical performance.

“Oh. My. God. We’ve found it. WE’VE FUCKING FOUND IT. After hundreds of years of searching….it’s right below us.”

Charlie looks at Jimson with confusion.

“Huh? Found what? What are you talking about?”

“Posadia, the communist apocolypse, alien, dolphin hub of the universe"

“What the fuck is that?”

“The motherlode.”