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Mr. Oz · (05-24-2016)

Ghost Tank and Alysia are both in bed. With her watching some kind of anime, while Ghost Tank is reading a book, 'Songs of the Doomed' by Hunter S. Thompson. When Alysia smiled and pressed her head to his lap. He looked down at her, chuckling and shaking his head before resuming his reading, where it talks about the Rum Diary. Alysia would speak softly, still watching the cartoon, from what Oswald could glean from it was that a teen, almost adult, finds a notebook, and kills people with it, and some lanky angel or demon or some kind of thing, appears.

"What do you think Fuzen will be like, when she's a teen?"

"I would not know, Alysia. I spent most of my teenage years spending time with men as I was considered a freak show attraction and put on the road to fight people everywhere in the United States. Even you. As beautiful and as lovely you are, and while I consider you a woman, you weren't born one. All the textbooks in the world couldn't prepare what it would be like to raise a girl in her teenage years."

"I guess. I was around the cattiest of women you could imagine."

"So, they had claws and long sharp incisors and prone to licking themselves?"

He laughed softly, putting his book down. She would tap his chin.

"No, you giant idiot. But they might as well have done all those things. They were terrible. They were worse than the men. They would bully and tease me for wanting to be a girl. They'd kick me, shove me, spit on me."

"Unfortunately that's how humans are, Alysia. We're just like any land animal in the kingdom. We dominate those we perceive weaker. I only know one thing about women once they become teens; they come much more bitchy when they have their periods."

"I hope she doesn't become like them."

"I know she won't. She'll be moody, most like. But it'll be tough times for us when she reaches that age."

"I hope so."

He leaned down, while she moved up, and they'd kiss before moving to sleep.

The next day Ghost Tank got up, grabbed his clothes for a few days, and Alysia would wake up, looking at him gathering his things

"Ozzy, where are you going?"

He sighed and then spoke,

"I'm tired of these assholes saying I have some kind of disease, called c.diff. What the fuck is that, anyways?"

She shrugged

"Either way, I'm going to go get examined by several doctors, and when I come back, these assholes won't have a damn leg to stand on, because that's all they can seem to use against me, 'c diff boy' and shit like that."

"Okay then, if it's that important, don't worry, I'll keep caring for Fuzen."

"Thanks, I'll see you in several days."

And with that, Ghost Tank would be driven to the Rush hospital, where he waved cash and got examined by the top General Practictioner, who would show GT a result test paper, and it would come up negative for c.difficile.

Next up would be Milwaukee, Wisconsin. The same would happen. Onto Evansville, Indiana, New York, New York, Cincinatti, Ohio, on and on and on, each state, each city with the highest rated care in the country, then coming back with a ton of stickers on his suitcases, as well as, in hand, over fifty pages of negatives for c.difficile.

"Honey, I'm home."

Reeve, I was forced into the match. However, I will be the one that destroys its stars and its creator. I will run roughshod over the entire show. I will break people, just because I fucking can. Have you not seen Shade? He has even promised to come after my opponents. Not to ensure a victory, no. But because he, too, realizes that it is better to keep me happy, than to see me angry. I killed him because of his false accusations that I'd molest my daughter. Whenever a pretender comes up against me, I will bury them, utterly and completely. I will force people to understand my strength, my resolve, my resilience, my utter lack of regard for my body and the body of my opponents. The Anarchy belts ARE worthless. You can't just make a show and say it's prestigious.

Know who does that kind of shit? Egomaniacal imbeciles. "Oh look at me, I can get my idea for a show pushed through management! I'm gonna create titles for it and say they're just as good as the Universal, Intercontinental, Hart, Tag Team, and X-Treme championship belts! When in reality, it's gold that nobody truly cares to keep! But I'll say they're good enough for everyone, that'll draw people with no actual brain power to come and fight for them!"

You realize how mentally

that is? You're so egotistical, that you can give Peter a run for his money. That's how big your ego is.

Now, you want to know why I am in this company, even though I run so many companies that I could own the Ex-Dubbayew-Eff? It's because I owe the sport of wrestling. I owe it for keeping my mind at bay. I owe it for bringing me and Alysia together. I owe it because it showed that I belong in the ring, or where ever I am supposed to fight, my true purpose in life. It's to bring the death and destruction to mankind. Being in the Ex-Dubbayew-Eff allows me to do this. And there's nothing else like hearing a crowd calling for your name.

I fucked with Anarchy because if it was true to its name, there would have actually been anarchy instead of generic bullshit. Anarchy should've been full of it, but everything was too bland.

You want to know why I want crazy stipulations? Because they make me feel alive. They bring out the entirety of my opponents being, and that's what I want. I want them to come at me with everything they can.

Now I'm just sounding like a broken record. Thanks. I already said some of these things, but yet you make me say it all over. You really must be mentally

. And who do you get your pitiful excuse for insults from? Peter? Scully? I mean, honestly, for someone who is a self-proclaimed shapeshifter, I'd imagine you would have actually changed into a person capable of actually spewing original content. Something that is unique and interesting.

Unfortunately, that's not the case, is it? You've decided to just muck up everything you do. Anarchy is a piss poor excuse for a wannabe Pay-Per-View show. It's something that comes around once in a while, and you want it to be extravagent, and be amazing! Yet, you are the one who runs the show. Nothing you do or say is original. Nothing you do or say has anything substantial weight to it to actually come close to hurting me.

Now, as you can see, I've seen several doctors, in different states. I've had myself examined. Excrement analyzed. I am free of this c.diff, you people claim I have. So, let me say this once, and I'll say it slowly...

I. Do. Not. Have. C. Difficile.

He'd wave all the papers and throw it into the camera's eye, while continuing to talk

But hey, man, that was a nice shot. However, I'm medically cleared. Aside from having to be crazy to let myself be hurt so badly all the time, but otherwise, my body is perfect.

Now that that's over, let's see what the rest of the Amazing Bore that is Reeve has said.

I did notice that it was your third life. Did you not hear me before? This is the confirmation that not only are you a shapeshifting bitch, but you're mentally

. I mean, come on now.

I'm done repeating myself about your pitiful excuse for a show. I said what I had to before, and I'm not going to re-repeat myself. You can go listen to my promo before, and you can hear the reasoning why I dealt with your show, and its stars. And, yes, I helped create Willis. He was put through the flames, and he came out and beat a practically fresh Rebel Star, in spite of nearly my breaking him.

This Anarchy is a different matter altogether, and a different story for a different time. I'll probably talk about it later.

I never said your career was, you only act like it, because you decided that to fight me, is like you're dirtying your perfect little hands. That's all I meant, and only someone with a birdbrain like yourself would think the way you have.

Then again, you are an egomaniac.

Also, stop fucking talking about Anarchy, seriously. This is Warfare we're going to be competing at, you simpleton. Stop shapeshifting, because I think it's causing you to lose brain power. You're getting dumber with each time you change bodies.

Reeve, are you starting to hear them yet? Are you hearing the screams of your past bodies? Are you hearing the screams of the future? Because I can. I will always hear the screams of my opponents. And yours are especially sweet. Like cotton candy. Which is also an apt description of your skill against mine. All fluff and ready to be devoured. Though, by devoured, I mean taking every part of you and breaking every bone in your body. The sounds of bones breaking are lovely, you know?

So, Reeve...

Can you?

CanYouHearTheScreams?

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