Suffering is the substance of life and the root of personality, for it is only suffering that makes us persons.

Miguel de Unamuno

April 19, 2021

The world was all strobing lights and a miasma of sweat and glitter and it was good.

Corey settled deep into Christian, riding his body like a buoy on a wave, drinking him in to the heartbeat of the music. Christian smiled at him. That wide goofy grin with the chipped canine and vague scar on his lip. Corey met his lips with a hunger, and then retracted playfully.

Tease…. Christian put his lips to Corey’s ear so he could hear in spite of the music.

I gotta piss. Wait for me.

Where else am I going?

Nowhere. Corey’s smile was also a laugh. He reached out as he stepped away, and Christian’s finger tips caught the ends of Corey’s as he watched him dissipate into the crowd.

Christian had always felt awkward dancing alone, but he didn’t want to lose Corey in the masses. So he stood his ground, giving his head a subtle shake to refuse a dance partner who sidled up next to him. Perhaps it was his self consciousness stalling the clock, but Christian soon began to feel the weight of Corey’s prolonged absence. But still he waited longer. Refusing another dance partner. One nervous glance at the clock on his phone became one, then two, then three. And before he knew it he was threading the crowd and heading towards the bathrooms.

Christian bypassed the line to the men’s room, quickly catching the ire of another reveler who shouted out, “There’s a line asshole.” Christian turned and was met by still more glowering faces.

Just a second! He shouted above the beats, hoping for placation. Popping open the door, his head became a swivel as he sought Corey. He didn’t have to look far. Rounding a corner into a row of stalls, Christian spotted him just as a little blue tablet was caught in the curl of his tongue. Another standing next to him quickly deposited a plastic bag full of things illicit in his pocket and pressed past Christian. Christian watched him go, instead opting to storm up to Corey and take him by the arm.

The fuck did you just do? Huh?!

The suddenness of Christian’s rage stunned him into an acute awareness of who he was, where he was, and what he had just done. The shame hit hard, and he quickly peeled out of Christian’s grasp, pushed open the door of the nearest stall and spit the MDMA into the toilet.

Christian was behind him then, crowding him. Why?! He barked.

Corey, retaining the presence of mind to flush, found his response lost in the din. I don’t know….I don’t know….

April 16, 2021

I don’t know! Corey’s tone was shot through with guilt and despondency. Dolly Waters stood before him, hands on her hips. She looked angry. But the kind of angry that was equal parts sad and disappointed as well.

The moon hung in the night sky through the kitchen window. A beckoning siren presaging the pay per view spectacular both of these souls would be casting their lot into.

Something’s changed Corey. You’re here, but you’re not here. This place, this mission, it used to mean so much to….

You don’t need to remind me.

But I guess I do! She hissed in muffled anger. What is it? Is it Leap of Faith? Is that…?

No, I don’t think so. I mean, yeah, it’s a huge deal but…. He trailed off. Then, looking at Dolly with trepidation. I think I just want my life back.

Her face screwed up with incredulity. She snorted, turned away from him, and then wheeled back again. “You want your life back?” She cast her arms out, gesturing at their environs. I thought THIS was your life? I thought you wanted THIS. Hell Corey, your passion and dedication is what sold me on giving this a shot. In case you hadn’t noticed, I’m not exactly a hunker down and become a pillar of the community type of girl. But YOU did that for me. You made me believe in this!

But now? You're pissing off with Christian every night and leaving all the day to day operations to me. And shit, you could at least answer your phone! She crosses her arms. But I guess you just can’t be arsed to shoulder the responsibility anymore.

Corey bit down on his bottom lip, and to Dolly’s surprise an embittered chuckle crept out. I’m 19 years old, Dolly. Nobody knows what the fuck they want when they’re 19!

So this was just some passing fancy? Build all these desperate people up and then fuck off to the next shiny that catches your eye? Dolly considers him, utterly agog and eyes rimmed with tears. This isn’t you. It’s not you! I think there’s something wrong with your head. All the memory issues you’ve been having. First The Engineer, and now you claim you don’t remember Lux at all…?

I don’t. He replied adamantly. And frankly, I think it’s for the best. God forbid I should have some semblance of a normal life. A pause. If you want the keys to the castle they’re all yours. But I’m taking my life back.

….so fucking selfish. Dolly muttered. You need to think long and hard about this, Corey.

I did. It’s done. Finally now, his left eye waters. I choose life. My life. Before Dolly could retort, Corey retreated from the room, taking long defiant strides. But Dolly had nothing left to say anyway.

What could be said.

The Odyssey

It was all a wash, a haze of noise and movement saturated in an overcoating of unbridled fear. Corey breathed raggedly inside his helmet. Dolly sat beside him, earlier qualms forgotten as she grabbed at his hand without looking. He could barely feel her through the life saving excess of the suit. Corey tried to coil his fingers around her hand. He looked up and was vaguely aware of one of their pilots shooting him a thumbs up, before turning back around and dancing his fingers over the expansive controls.

Corey commanded himself not to throw up. Throwing up in these enclosed climes would be tantamount to doom. But at this moment, the weight of it all was smothering. He was going into space. He was going into FUCKING space. And try as he might, the flashes of tragedies borne in flames from years past kept elbowing their way to the forefront of his mind. Did they feel anything? Were they still alive to experience that final, calamitous plummet back to the surface? How long did they know they were going to die?

His breaths grew shorter and shorter, chest bucking in and out. Don’t. DON’T! He pleaded desperately with his panic. Breathe you stupid asshole!

And that was when he felt Dolly’s squeeze. He turned to look at her. The fear was written on her face too. But maybe something else as well. An appreciation of the profundity of this opportunity. She opened her mouth to speak, but their comms weren’t on. He read her lips just fine.

We’ll be okay. That’s what she said. This brilliant devil may care soul, tripping the bounds of an entire planet at his side.

Then, they were both jostled in their seats. And Thad Duke’s voice resounded inside his helmet. Of course Thad had thought to turn on his comm.

We’re live, cats and kittens! Who’s ready to go where no wrestling company has gone before? Thad was riding high on the thrill of it all, and no doubt Frankie, strapped in beside him, was equally as excited.

There might have been more, but it was instantly drowned out by a roar and an even more violent jostling. He squeezed his eyes shut, and all he could think was, what happened to the countdown?

~~~~~~~~~~~~~

It occurred to Corey, weightless and adrift, how the fragility of the human condition was laid bare by the absence of space. Stripped of their very gravity, with nought but steel bulkheads as the dividing line between life and death. He wondered if any of his other coworkers thought this way as they embarked on their own journeys. Or maybe they were more like Thad, exuberant, with fears soundly tucked away and out of sight. Could they simply BE in this moment? Corey wished…

….oh.



There it was. The moment. That eponymous awe, just outside the window. Corey put a hand to the glass, drawing his face in closer in a mad attempt to drink in every detail and compress it into memory.

Oh….

It was magnificent of course. Magnificent. He could feel his anxiety start to leak away in the face of it. Something about it made his very cells sing, made him feel pulled up and away into some nameless all consuming ether. A connectedness beyond the capacity for rational thought, a concept for which paltry words almost met the point of insult for trying vainly to capture it.

This is the part where someone says, “It’s beautiful, isn’t it?”

Corey remained eyes forward, consuming. It is. He whispered reverently. It’s the face of God.

Thad drew closer to Corey, floating side by side. I never knew you to have a religious bent.

How could you not with….this? Again, voice laden with awe. He wiped away a tear that he hadn’t realized had formed until just then and looked at Thad. I’m sorry. I’m being weird.

Thad smiled warmly. Not at all. It’s profound. You wouldn’t be human if you weren’t moved by it. Thad cleared his throat. Can I pull you away from this for a moment?

No. He had answered honestly. He wasn’t done.

Fair enough. You want me to come back?

No.

Thad’s mouth drew into a thin bemused line. ‘Kaaaaay. So what do you….?

I know Dolly’s worried about me. Corey filled in the blank, eyes forward out the glass.

Hell, I’m worried about you too. He sighed. She said you haven’t been acting right.

I know.

Thad made a hand gesture in the vein of “and?”. But when Corey didn’t continue, he punctuated the silence again. So, what’s going on?

I feel free. Corey spread his fingers out even more on the glass, encapsulating the Earth. I can’t explain it. I just feel free. And I’m starting to realize how much life I have left to live.

Well, yeah, you’re only 19.

No. I mean for myself, Thad. I want to be selfish.

Taken aback, Thad pursed his lips and made a somewhat pained expression. Look man, I’m not gonna sit here and pretend like we don’t all have the right to act a little selfish now and again. Some of us have maybe acted a little too selfish at times. His self reproach is clear. But we’re worried because this just seems so sudden. And it’s on the heels of these memory loss issues you’ve been having. Corey, I’ll be honest, I almost didn’t bring you to Leap of Faith.

I would have been livid.

Oh, I know! I don’t think you would have ever forgiven me. Well, maybe you would. The barest hint of a chuckle follows. I’m still not sure about my decision. He invests his full attention on Corey, considering him closely. Did I make the right decision?

He answers without hesitation. Yes. I don’t think there’s anything wrong with me. I think I’m finally discovering what happiness feels like. But, his thoughts return to the tingle of the MDMA on his tongue. And Christian’s well placed anger. No, no this isn’t quite right…. The notion was an irrepressible psychic ache that would not be constrained. The word “regression” flashed in his mind unbidden. He swallowed deep and pushed the word back and out of sight. I’m happy.

Corey’s eyes still had not left the sight of Earth below him. A flash caught his eye, a thunderstorm was brewing over the midwestern United States. An impressive tumult on the ground, but up here it was so small. A will o’ the wisp, effervescent and fleeting. He raised his hand up, placing the storm between his thumb and forefinger as if to crush it.

Don’t you just wish it was that easy. Thad mused beside him. Something about his tone carried a cloying sadness. Heh. Then, changing the subject. You gonna be able to sleep in zero G?

I hope so. If what I brought doesn’t put me to sleep nothing will. He had finally dragged his attention away from the mystery at the window in time to see Thad quirk an eyebrow. It’s not pharmaceutical. Don’t worry.

Hm. Well, alright then. Thad looked back, down the length of the shuttle, where Frankie’s jubilant voice filtered down to meet them.

You’re never gonna get that kid to sleep.

I know. He shrugged playfully. But “to sleep, perchance to dream!”

Something sparked deep within. A flicker of recognition, a candle’s waning light at the mercy of the wind. Somebody told me once that that quote doesn’t mean what we think it means. What Hamlet meant by that was that a dreamless sleep after death would be preferable to the challenges of being alive.

Well how sunny is that! Thad replied sarcastically. He looked back in Frankie’s direction. I guess we won’t be doing that then. Who told you that anyway?

Corey tried to remember, but it proved as elusive as catching water. It was nothing more than a dim shadow and the errant echoes of the feelings this moment produced. Love. Humor. A tiny amount of Fear. I don’t remember. Corey admitted after a brief struggle.

Thad didn’t reply at first, simply giving his head a little nod. Well, tomorrow we dock. Try to get some shut eye buddy. He placed a hand on Corey’s shoulder, allowing it to linger, to gather weight even in this void of gravity. He wanted it to be known that it was a hand that would be there to catch him when he fell. Finally, Thad allowed himself to drift away, off to meet up with Frankie.

Corey drifted away from the window as well. His limbs flailed a bit, the animal instinct to panic in these conditions had still not been completely muted. Finding the reassuring steel of the bulkhead, Corey used that to make his way to his cabin, where a thick sleeping bag had been tethered to the wall. Corey went to it and reached inside, pulling out his phone and some earbuds. Dragging himself into the sleeping bag, he affixed the earbuds in and closed his eyes.

Now playing....

Quote: Some whack ass Demos promo where he, bug eyed and frothing, starts ranting and raving about supply side economics or some shit.

Corey winces. Fuckin’ Demos. He spoke aloud sleepily. Nonetheless, Corey's mind held on to this Econ for Schizophrenics lesson for as long as he could. And soon, the stultifying effects of a Demos promo started to win the war on the alienness of Corey’s sleeping conditions, and slumber invited him in.

Logos

Corey is seated at a simple folding table. A deck of cards is at his right hand.

I’m better now. He floats that cryptic statement with an air of nonchalance. And all it took was a death to achieve it.

There’s that smirk.

Hell of a tagline, huh? Oh, I’ll fill in the blanks later. But for right now I want to talk about Sidney. Sidney was a 57 year old resident of Coreytopia. You know, that place I almost gave up on? Mmmmhmmmm. She was a new ager through and through. All about fates, and powers cosmic, and destiny. She said she had a Native American spirit guide named Laughing Crow. Sidney was, erm, not Native American. But she was a good person so I didn’t get down on her for the cultural appropriation. But anyhoo, Sidney taught me all about the Tarot. Now, I don’t put much stock in its predictive qualities. But as Jungian symbols of the universal themes of all mankind? Let me tell ya, they’re the bees knees.

So we’re gonna have some fun. He taps the Tarot deck beside him. And as for Sidney? Just up and left one day last month. Left us a note that said, and I quote, “I am pulled elsewhere.” Gotta love Sidney.

When I think destiny, the Leap of Faith match is what immediately comes to mind. Every man or woman who enters it could come away with something as profound as the realization of their life’s hopes and dreams in a convenient attache form. Or, they could die. Corey chuckles. No pressure, right?! He takes the deck and starts placing all 22 of the major arcana cards out, one by one. We’re going to assume for the sake of brevity that you can Google what “major arcana cards” even means. Or, if you’re Lycana, it’s probably already stored in your brain box. Good for you!

Now, as I said, I’m not much of a believer in the predictive qualities of these mass produced pieces of laminated card stock, but I do find it interesting how easy it is to square all nine of you in this deck. Ol’ Sidney was a wise one. So, where to start, hmmmm?

Corey playfully waggles his hand over the cards, before picking one up with a faux excited gasp.



First up to bat, “go big or go home”. Doctor Louis D’Ville is The Tower. You see, the tower represents upheaval, change, oftentimes destructive change. Sometimes it is interpreted as representing “unforeseen catastrophe”. I think you see where I’m going with this, Doc. Riding high on top of the world, with a motley array of court jesters begging to kiss your ring and tear off a piece of that regal crapulence for themselves. And then Saturday Night Savage happened. And we discovered that you didn’t really survive Alias after all.

Corey sighs. Part of that is on me. Things got heated between us. And I...kinda sorta “helped” you lose at May Day. My job as a referee in that match was to maintain impartiality no matter what. And I failed at that, I admit. So I guess, in part, I bear some responsibility for your crumbling tower. I apologize. And I realize that no apology will stay your hand in this match. I understand I’m probably target numero uno, numero dos at best (Demos IS pretty annoying after all).

A lot of people are probably going to assume that you doing a complete about face after suffering a single loss makes you weak. Those people are stupid. I know you. I know what you’re capable of. And the Doc I saw in that ring wasn’t the bloated, impious mock royal you had become, but Death riding side by side with his horsemen. Oooooooo wee! He’s back.

But here’s the score Doc. Because I bear some responsibility for turning you back into a beast, I’ll be loath to let you walk out of Leap of Faith with that loaded weapon in carry on form. I think it would be doing the XWF a great disservice to let a fiery, vengeful, and entirely too MOTIVATED Doc D’Ville anywhere near the Universal Championship. So I won’t.

Corey’s expression is steely, but he quickly breaks and tosses his hands up in the air. Boy, it got heavy in here right out the block. Let’s lighten things up a bit, eh? Let’s take….He again spins his hand over the cards, before snapping one up.



Ahhhhh the fool. At its best it represents innocence, beginnings and idealism. But the reverse? Gullibility. Stagnation. Naivete. But who doesn’t love a clown? Who doesn’t love a SAD clown? Hell, who doesn’t love a sad clown that’s oblivious to how sad he is? Really makes you feel better about yourself, doesn’t it?

Enter Money Oswald. So tell me, uh, “Money”, how does it feel to be the guy who bankrolled BOB, who was one of the originators of BOB since the beginning, and who at one point, was even BOB leadership; how does it feel to be that guy and get completely cucked by Chris Page of all people? I mean, here you are, and here’s Chris Page, a man who had nothing to do with BOB until recently, now suddenly revealed to be the, heh….*chortle*...”mastermind” of the entire organization while you are relegated to the waste bin of “sub BOB Elite” status.

Don’t you still have like, demi-God powers or some shit? Like, why are you letting Chris fucking Page dog walk you? And make no mistake, you are being dog walked like a mother fucker. You are being dog walked and Chris isn’t even picking up your shit. He’s making you EAT your shit and you are THANKING him for the privilege!

What. The. Fuck. Money?

Granted, it’s not like anyone in that group really took you seriously in the first place. But I’m sure your money came in awful handy when it was funding all those Cobra-esque plots to achieve world domination. Did you guys try Cold Slither yet? I bet it would work if it was a Korean boy band this time.

But seriously. There is no finer example of The Fool in this entire match. And with a match that’s packing both Demos AND Chris Chaos, that is TRULY saying something.

Onto the next.

Corey reaches down again and picks up a card, flipping it about to the camera.



The Lovers card! Ooh la la! Hey hopefully you guys can edit out this guy’s junk in post production. He points to the tiny penis on the card. Wouldn’t want to offend anyone.

At any rate, the card can represent relationships, unity, balance, and romance. But hell, this is the XWF! What’s a healthy relationship anyway? The inverse of this card can represent conflict, detachment, and most of all BAD CHOICES. Which naturally brings us to Ariel Dixon. Called, “Rel”, by her friends. So I’m gonna stick to calling her a mermaid.

You see folks, Ariel has decided to fixate all of her manic pixie energy on trying to snag herself a Demos. Yes, yes, I will give you all a moment to quell that rising tide of bile and wash it down with the strongest possible alcohol you can get your hands on!

Aside from this being a monumentally awful choice on the surface of it, you can compound the train wreck in waiting hilarity by noting that Ariel is yet another one of those oversexed “OMG TOTES CRAZY” chicks you can read about pretty much whenever a sexually inexperienced man writes a female character. Except in this case, it’s real. And it’s terrible.

What do you get when you ship two profoundly mentally unbalanced people together like that? Well, aside from a warrant, you get the inevitable drama bomb of their spectacular break up. And I’m predicting it happens at Leap of Faith, when Demos gets the first chance to lay a greasy hand on that 24/7 briefcase and stabs Ariel in the back. Now Ariel, I imagine you’re not exactly flush with insight, so Demos’ betrayal will probably come as a complete shock. And when it does, please do the entire XWF a favor and twist his scrotum until it turns Smurf colored. That’d be great, thanks.

Corey abruptly slaps his palm down on another card. Somehow the card sticks to it and Corey holds it aloft.

Chris Chaos IS the Death card.



I can see it now. Chris Chaos, or is your first name “Corporate” now (???), is probably rock hard at the prospect of being Death. Because a guy as well acquainted with tedious depthlessness as he is WOULD react that way because it triggers all his edge lord predilections. But what IS the Death Card exactly? Well, it’s not literal death. No. It actually means transformation or change. Sounds good right? But its reverse is stagnation, fear of change, and decay.

Now which one sounds more like Chris Chaos to y'all? Oh I know, I know, he’s staked this one millionth grand return on the back of “this time I’m Chris Chaos, but also Theo’s bag handler”. Revolutionary! And actually, while we’re on the topic of Theo, I’m terribly sorry to hear about whatever brain damage you suffered that specifically targeted your sense of irony. Because that is the only possible explanation for you calling me a “bore” in one breath and then bringing back Chris fucking Chaos in the next! Wow, wow, wow!

But, yeah, Chris is back, bitches! But this time it’s different! For real this time! 100%!

Corey jacks off a big ol’ phantom dick.

But you see Chris, no matter how many times you come back, with whatever goddamn spin you put on it, you are ALWAYS the same insecure, bitter, selfish, glory chaser. You. Never. Change. You stay WEAK. And that’s why you’re always so fucking miserable in your own skin. Case in point. What was one of your first acts of business as Corporate Chaos?

Dunking on your ex-girlfriend.

Corey laughs and claps his hands.

Don’t get me wrong, I am nooooo Jenny Myst booster. But way to scream to the entire world “not over it.” You so PETTY grrrllllll. Shit between you and her ended months ago. And the strong confident thing to do would have been to just not even acknowledge her presence. Move on with your life! But you can’t, can you? Because no matter how hard you try to convince us otherwise, all those little past failures and humiliations continue to haunt you, day after day after day. The knowledge that your glory days are sooooooo far in the past is an albatross about your neck.

The problem is not the fact that you were an outsider. The problem is the fact that you are YOU. And you NEVER change. And the fact that your definition of strength is publicly going over your former strange to put her in line says every single goddamn thing we need to know about how little you’ve actually changed. You are just so SMALL. No matter what label you try to apply to yourself. You’re still a dim witted, painfully self conscious, haunted child. And also still Thad Duke’s bitch. HIS BIIIIITTTTTCHAAHHHHH. There, there’s another piece of baggage you forgot to check.

You’re gonna fail again, Chris. And it’s gonna be funny as FUCK.

NEXT!

Corey snatches up another card and reveals it to the camera.



Thrax is the Sun Card. You know why? Because fuck Thrax. I saw his name on the card and got all hyped up thinking XWF legend Trax had signed on to the match last second. And then I saw the “H” and realized it was just you.

I’m not even giving this one some high falutin explanation. I know you would have wanted to be the Death card or the Devil card or The Emperor card because GOTH KIDS, but no! Fuck you! You get the card with the sun, and the flowers, and the happy naked baby on the horsie. That is all the analysis you’re entitled to.

Actually, on second thought, I’m not done. Did Lycana actually call you “the destined one” on Savage? Hoooooo boy. So are you the destined one in the same sense that Baphomet was the destined one? Or in the same sense that Andrew Logan was the destined one? Because if so, I’m thinking we ought to hunker down and prepare to be underwhelmed yet again.

Please wear that bigass cape to the ring too. I’m sure it won’t be a liability for you whatsoever.

Now who’s on deck?

Yet another card is proffered up.



Sil Frigida, you are The Hanged Man. Now, I know what you’re thinking. “How have I allowed myself to become this cartoonish lumpy monstrosity?” But I’m gonna need you to focus. Because what you should be thinking is, “Huh?”

On the surface of things, The Hanged Man seems like an odd choice for you, right? Not so. Because two of the fundamental themes of the Hanged Man are sacrifice, or, needless sacrifice. I know you’re pretty new here Sil. So maybe you’re not aware of the sucking maw of egocentricity you’ve tethered yourself to. So here’s a reality check. When the chips are down, and you have a shot at that 24/7 briefcase, do you think Chris Chaos is just going to let you have it? Do you think he’s gonna let that slide out of some bolt of inspired benevolence? Dude, I guarantee you Chris Chaos can’t even spell “benevolence”. And I’m betting, at this very moment, he is talking to you about helping HIM win that briefcase. “It’ll be good for both of us!” “I’ll let you have the first shot at it!” “Can I oil you up? It’s totally non sexual!”

Am I getting warmer?

And you know what, maybe you’ve already ACCEPTED that that is your role in this match. Which, honestly, makes you even dumber than you look. Because you could probably snap Chris Chaos like a dry twig. But you won’t. And why? Because REASONS.

Corey shrugs and chuckles.

Or! You could choose not to be the designated pinch hitter for a wholly unworthy piece of human smegma.

Now, you could be wondering, “Is Corey Smith playing mind games with me?” You bet your ass I am! But I also just so happen to be correct. Chris Chaos ain’t worth your sacrifice. Like, at all.

Now for god sakes, get off the gas. I bet your testicles are like little chick peas.

This next one is REALLY interesting.

He picks up another card, displaying it to the viewer.



The Strength card is one of the most straightforward in the deck. No real surprises here. In its upright position it represents courage, confidence, and inner power. Its reverse is self doubt, weakness, and inadequacy.

Corey smiles.

Hello, Jim. My name is Corey Smith. We don’t know each other, but I’ll admit I was sucked in by all the hoopla over your return. So I got the lowdown from Thad and Dolly. Or THEIR take on you at least. I went back and watched some of your old promos. And boy, do you have the gift of gab. You’re a saucy little firecracker aren’t you? Wind you up and watch you go. I know I’m being flippant, but I don’t mean any real disrespect by it. You’re decorated for a reason. You’re considered a shoe-in for the Hall of Fame for a reason.

But, I don’t think there is anybody else in this match that represents the duality of the Strength card quite like you do. Because we have seen both sides of Jim Caedus, have we not? We’ve seen the confident, in control, champion. But we’ve also seen what happens when the confidence ebbs. When the demons start creeping their way back in. Maybe the promos start getting a little more defensive. Or maybe you just...disappear.

Corey makes a “poof” gesture.

You are so fucking talented. But I think even you’ll agree that the prime thing that gets in the way of Jim Caedus is Jim Caedus. Ah, but let thee without sin, cast the first stone! Like recognizes like, Jim. And me? I practically got a PhD in fucking up. But I’ve grown. And I’ve recently become acutely aware of what the source of my own strength is.

Have you?

I think that you may actually be the linchpin in this match. That pivotal fraction of the whole upon which the entire dynamic of this contest will rest. But it all depends on which Jim Caedus we get. Do we get Jim with his head on straight? Or do we get the Jim that gets eaten alive by the monsters and dragged down to hell? I don’t know, and nobody else does either.

I will say one thing though. I’m not quite sure how invested you can possibly be in this thing. Number one, it didn’t seem like Leap of Faith even occurred to you until Lane squared up his pecker size with Theo’s and gave you a call. And number two, say you win this briefcase. And say Robert Main beats Page that same night. Which, if we’re being honest, is probably a safe bet. What do you do then? Because the destined outcome of this match rides high on these questions too. Do you want to be the Universal Champion again, Jim?

Of course you do.

But with it comes the betrayal, the anger, the animosity, the knives in the dark, Jim! And then there you are, sweaty and wild eyed and checking under the bed again. Can you handle that? I mean mentally. Can you? I’m sure as shit excited to find out. And I can’t WAIT for you to call me a hack! It’s like a fun little club!

Corey flashes a thumbs up at the camera before his eyes drift back down to the cards. Only two remain. He reveals one of the two to the camera.



The Chariot! It can mean willpower, ambition, self control, and focus. But we’re talking about Demos here, so you know we’re getting the reverse meaning, baby! No direction, no control, and powerlessness. Yes Demos, you are a chariot out of control in every sense of the word. A directionless, shiftless agent of calamity.

You used to represent ambition Demos. Why, mere months ago you were seen as the XWF’s newest brightest star. And then stinky baby took a tumble into online radicalization and forgot what the fuck he was even doing here. The “L” column started accruing at a break neck pace. And you got two, TWO, Universal title match opportunities and you shit the bed in both! And now what? You’re glomming on to Ariel Dixon like a love sick puppy with a belly full of ringworm and pretending to give a rat’s shaven ass about the downtrodden. And all the while, you keep LOSING. Shit Demos, you’re about to break even and really make a play at abject mediocrity.

You would have made a good argument for Dock’s Tower card too. A complete plummet from grace. If we could even define whatever it is you do as “grace.” But you never really were a “tower” were you? Nah, that would imply that at some point you were strong and resolute. It’s quite clear that you are not. You were a hot flash in the pain, a flicker of an impressive commodity before your mental illness laid you low and pathetic.

I dare you to tell me I’m wrong. I fucking dare you. Like “those hips”, those numbers don’t lie. And you know what? Maybe you got too much too fast. Too early of a shot at the Universal title. Or maybe once the shine wore off on that TV title run, you got a look at just how low your glass ceiling truly was. You realized that it is quite likely that that run was about as good as it gets. So for that reason, you are one of the people I sweat the least in this match. Your ability to fuck up when it really matters is so vast it’s almost like you’re doing it on purpose. Failure as kink? Satisfaction through stalemate? Whatever the case, you don’t have IT. Not anymore. Unless IT is venereal disease. In which case, you got lots, and your oily little pecker is about to dive headfirst into some new additions. Hello again, Ariel.

You want to start a revolution? Maybe you should set your sights a little lower and just work on not sucking ass first.

Corey flips Demos the birdie with one hand before laying his other on the final card. But then, he stops, resting his palm on it.

It’s no secret who our final card belongs to. But what element best represents good ol’ Edgar? Why, nothing less than….




….The World.

Corey gives a little shudder.

Ohhhh, it just screams EPIC doesn’t it? Like that reveal just now should have been accompanied by one of those ominous deep horn blast sounds you hear in movies when shit’s gettin’ REAL. Maybe we can get that in post production?

The camera shakes back and forth for “no”

Weak. Pffft. But yeah, RL, you’re the whole wide world baby. Sort of. The World card represents completion, achievement, and harmony through fullfillment. And you see RL, I saved you for last for a reason. And I put a lot of consideration into your card.

You’ve had what can be described as an interesting career. You floundered for a very long time, popping in and out of the XWF. Usually to lie on your back for some up and comer. I don’t mean that as a shot necessarily, it’s just the truth. But then, something strange happened. All of a sudden, you decided to care. And that “caring” took you to a Hart championship run.

Second reason you’re so interesting to me is because I was at ground zero for the start of this trailblazing run. We tagged together not long after you decided to return. And I trained you up. Now, this is NOT me taking full credit for any success you’ve had this year. You were still green as grass back then, and your improvement in so short a window of time can not be undersold. And it seemed as though R.L. had finally arrived and become part of the XWF proper. No more flakey stints. A winning record.

You had finally entered the world.

But then, as good things do, your Hart title reign ended. And then you squared off with Page. And you lost.

Corey taps his fingers on the table.

I have a confession to make RL. None of that was surprising to me. Not a bit. Because from the moment we had that tag match together, I KNEW you had the potential to be good.

But never to be great.

And I didn’t admit that to you back then. I didn’t want to knock the wind out of your sails. You were so eager this time, so earnest. But there was always going to be a cap. And Reggie, I hoped and prayed I was wrong. I WANTED you to shock me. But then the Hart title run was….decent. Not bad, but not exactly one of the greats either. However, my evaluation was only truly confirmed when you lost to Page. Chris Page, one of the weakest Universal Champions in modern history. A narcissistic, insecure, dumpy old man who was only ever just holding on to that belt until Robert or Alias took it from him.

But hey, you know what?! You TRIED! Which is more than I did, I’ll hand you that. But all of this begs the question: Are you TRULY fulfilled? Was the year 2021 ENOUGH for you? Or are you going to keep putting one foot in front of the other and setting yourself up for disappointment?

RL, you have to choose a world. The XWF? Or your family? Because as much as it pains me to say it, in my heart of hearts, I think you should chose your family. Because if you choose the XWF, you’re going to get hurt. Physically. Emotionally. That world you thought you had arrived on is going to get turned upside down, leaving you with a persistent gnawing emptiness as your limitations are laid bare week after week. Don’t get me wrong, I’m not trying to get you to bow out of this match. But I do think it should be your last hurrah before you turn bitter and frustrated chasing after the impossible.

And I’m sure my words are gonna piss you right off. But I think, somewhere deep, you’re not sure I’m wrong either.

Think about it, friendo.

Corey sighs in relief after completing this monumental task. But then, he perks up and waggles his finger at the camera.

Naughty, naughty. I spent all this time plucking the strands of fate for all of you, but never assigned myself a card.

He takes the top card of the deck, and spins it around for all to see.



I’m the Star. I mean, aside from just liking the “mouthfeel” of it, this is the card I identify most with. The star represents rejuvenation, faith, and healing. It’s the encapsulation of my entire journey since my return to the XWF. This time last year, I didn’t even know if I was going to walk again, much less be able to punt Demos in the ass.

Some might be quick to assume that this match is going to serve as the end point of my healing journey. But they’d be wrong. The end point of my healing journey already happened. This is just Corey Smith running on all eight cylinders now. This is just Corey Smith wreckin’ fools, and towers, and suns, and everything else in between. This is just Corey Smith winning a goddamn briefcase so I can guarantee that which I’ve been wanting to do for months.

Now, I might be tempting fate here. But I’m going to do what few people have done before. I’m going to tell the world exactly what I plan to do with my briefcase. I’m not using it for some chicken shit ambush. I’m not allowing that asterisk anywhere close to my Universal Championship reign. And make NO mistake, it’s an asterisk. I don’t care how many legendary title runs were birthed by an act of cowardice, that’s not how Corey Smith plays ball.

No. My intention is to wait for Alias’ inevitable Universal Championship victory, and then use that briefcase to challenge him to a match.

Corey lets that settle in.

Yeah, I’m pulling a “Ned Kaye back when he had integrity”. I want to face THE BEST, allow me to reiterate for posterity, THE BEST wrestler in the XWF today. And if you disagree with my assessment, well hey, it’s ok to be wrong! Or just go talk to Dock.

Corey leans back in his seat and picks up the rest of the Tarot card deck.

Until then, may fate smile upon you for now. Because it won’t be smilin’ long.

He pushes the tops and bottoms of the deck together, causing them to arch and then flutter towards the camera to see us out.