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X-treme Wrestling Federation »   » Archives » Bad Medicine 2021
Regrets P.2
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JimCaedus Offline
Trash Talker Skywalker



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(loved by some; hated by some; dips between clean/dirty)


#1
11-24-2021, 10:55 AM

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IN HONOR OF MA'AM MILLER'S INSISTENCE TO RANDOMLY AMBUSH WHILE REFUSING TO PARTICIPATE IN ANY SANCTIONED MATCHES, HER ENTRANCE MUSIC HAS NOW BEEN APPROPRIATELY UPDATED FROM BON JOVI'S "WANTED: DEAD OR ALIVE" TO-





















Yo, you fuckin' kiddin' me with this shit, girl? You steal my custom Harley "Ewrecktion", then you vanish? After all that shit you been squawkin'?


"Not like this Jim."


"I want you at Bad Medicine Jim."


"Tick tock, Jim. Tick tock."


Yes, "Tick tock, tick tock" you missed the goddamn deadline clock, you hickery dickery dock COCKsucker...


Y'know, Ma'am...for an impatient gal so obsessed with time, you certainly are .



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I shoulda known when you hopped on my Ewrecktion cowgirl and rode away that'd be the last anyone saw 'a you. Off trapped in the throes 'a vibratory ecstasy my Ewrecktion provides, ain'tcha bae.


Ma'am be like, "forget gettin' fucked in the ring, I can just fuck mySELF."


I get it ho, I get it. My Ewrecktion is one FAT hog. Arcana 'erself can attest to that.


What happened Ma'am? Too busy drinkin'? Too busy in the gym? Too busy fuckin' with my chopper? It's a combination of all 'a the above, ain't it. Self professed "Top Guy Slayer" too busy drinkin' and clean & jerkin' to slay anything beyond 'er own liver and hype. That's ok, no worries sweetie. IF you actually show up to hype this match with me- which I doubt, dickless -ya still get one allowable promo.


So bring it.


Bring all that confidence you been displayin' surprise attackin' me like a pussy so I can make an example outta you.


Hit the XWF Universe with that super unique 'soused slut slurs salvos' content you were swingin' over in OCW. And Fight NYC. And I'm sure any other place you been, ya complex pissant.


Pop a top on that favorite adult beverage 'a yours- DEFINITIVELY established as Miller Lite -and get back to chuggin' and chawin'-


I'm sorry, hold up, I gotta touch on this real quick. How's a self professed hardcore competitor pushin' the whole ho-hum cliché "Miller Time" bit prefer to drink Miller LITE? I mean shit, even if you ARE one 'a those chicks who can't stand the taste 'a beer, shouldn't you- as, again, such a self professed hardcore competitor -be at least _pretendin'_ to suck down a more potent Miller product like Miller High Life? What, l-o-l, you holdin' onto that 'ace' for when you're a champion? You realize that all reflects on you, right? And don't tryta flip that and say you're worried about your weight. 99% 'a your content revolves around you and a brew. You ain't concerned with weight gain any more than you are with actually validating anything you claim to be.


Like focused on wrestling.


Oh wait. Fuck am I sayin'. Duh. It's 'cause nothin' you say is anything other than what my dick and every can and bottle 'a Miller Lite you slam have all experienced with you:


Lip service.


You ain't shit but an all talk twat, Ma'am. Period.


Nothin' I seen from you thus far adds up.


Probably why over in Fight you were seen in a promo doing _this_ one minute-




Quote:Bam Miller has arrived already in Fight Tower; as he walks inside the building, he stops by the kitchen, takes a few Miller Lites out of the fridge, and sticks them in his jacket pocket. He walks out of the kitchen and past the catering table to back out into the halls. He cracks open one of the Miller Lite cans and takes a sip before walking into the Fight media room and takes a seat in front of the camera. He takes another sip then places it down beside him.



Only to be seen doin' _THIS_ the next-



Quote:Bam picks back up the Miller Lite bottle that he had placed on the floor and takes and chugs the beer down. He tosses it into a trash can near to him and looks back with a focused look.



From a beer can to a beer bottle.


You such a fuckin' lush you givin' the camera a contact high drunk or some shit? You a superhero abusin' your powers 'a transmutation to switch aluminum to glass? The people wanna know. I got a sorceress girlfriend, so anything _I_ do is a wall hack logically(? ...Yes. Yes, logically) covered, what's _your_ excuse?


Is it the same dogshit excuse y'might give to my next question: how does a wrestler legit title three promos in a row all "Miller Time"? I saw in Fight ya did the same with the chapters and added ancillary titles (I guess someone had already pimp slapped you about it by then), so, what happened in OCW when you did that?


You SURE you been wrestlin' for as long as you claim on your contract info, Ma'am? 'Cause I'd think a concept like 'don't title three promos in a row- much less two -the exact same fucking title' woulda sunk in roundabouts your first day in the Indy circuit. For that matter, I'd think in ANY and EVERY walk of life in which titling one's work comes into play, it's just common sense not to title each piece 'a work the same. Fuckin'. Title.


You're an idiot, Ma'am.


The most CONSISTENT thing about you and your content is "Bam chugs a Miller Lite" and the buncha botches that follow. All that shit in your contract info is lookin' more and more like lies, fantasy and omissions. Your contract should be an approximate cut and paste of anything Amy Winehouse woulda said and read in full:



'By God, I will NOT show up to work without an alcoholic beverage or twelve. Oh, and a pack 'a Newports (it IS Sandman you're rippin' off you shameless lame!) so's to blow those über cool smoke rings.'



Smoke rings, btw? Fuck's that s'posed to do, wow the crowd? Where do you get your perception for what translates as impressive villainous tough, cartoons?


Hell...for all intents and purposes Ma'am, it seems you don't know what the fuck you're doin' in this business whatsoever. It's like you've somehow never even watched an hour's worth 'a professional wrestling content- perplexing to say the least considering you 'ARE' a professional wrestler -or ever made an attempt at anything halfway original in your life with the way you approach the creative aspects 'a this business. Y'know what I think?


You're a fraud.


That's what I think.


I think you're just some entitled, rich, remedial snowflake who got bored boozin' it up on lite beer at home and thought, "fuck it, lemme see what this wrestling thing is all about", trumped up a backstory you thought would get you pity and favorable treatment, tossed in whatever general deets you- as a Miller Liteweight -thought would paint you as some kinda frightening nightmare (along with all that impressive ink 'a yours that in 2021 every single soccer mom and her 16 year old daughter are rockin' as well) and dove in head first like some drunk asshole into an empty pool.


Now I gotta split your skull and vindicate the analogy. Well, not so much "gotta" as gonna 😈 And wanna.


I'm Jimmy Caedus, bitch; competitors infinitely more creative, credible and killer than YOU have a hard time topplin' me but you're gonna pick ME as YOUR stepping stone?


I'm the wrong one, motherfucker.


Former Universal Champ.


Current X-Treme Champ.


Current THREE TIME Mr. 24/7...BOO!!! 🤣🤣🤣 just kiddin' Alias, ya paranoid pussy.


#6 on the XWF Top 50.


INFAMOUS for my cruelty whether hero, villain or in between. I enjoy completely humiliating my opponents before enterin' the ring and I'm pretty goddamn good at it. Leavin' my opponents havin' to swallow that verbal abuse pill WITH a loss on top...I love it.


What's worse- and I mean for YOU in context with ME and what I just said -good ol' Boss Pryce thought it prudent to cockblock (big surprise there btw, he and The Kings felt compelled to spoil Ax3's reign, why not piss on an Apex ascension as well, amirite? 🖕Theo), dress me down publicly (🖕Theo) and tell me to "get in line" behind a buttfuckin' janitor (seriously, 🖕Theo. I worked my ASS OFF for this Briefcase)...which all means I ain't in the best 'a moods, Ma'am, and guess what? I'ma take aaaaaaaaaall my frustration and aggression out


On.


YOU.


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Lemme make myself clear as crystal here...if you don't show up for the match- hell with the hype cycle -I. Will. Hunt. You. Down. and I won't care where it is you're cowering, I give you my word I'll snuff you right in front 'a whoever the fuck is there then figure out a wayta feed you to that open mouth tat on your arm, which, I promise will be an undertaking I'll take as insanely seriously as if I was someone who believed he could actually accomplish such a task, which, unfortunately for you, I very much am.


Show up, bring back my bike and take what you got comin' or get it times ten elsewhere.


Any way ya slice it, Ma'am, you "foster raised" dubious "dumpster baby", there's really only one destination I know for sure you're gonna end up- livin' or dead -and if I got anything to say about it, it'll be me sendin' ya back home to not mama with the swiftness.














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=========================





CAEDUS REWIND: An Apex Thanksgiving at the Main homestead saw some painful memories and accompanying regrets resurface in Jim Caedus. After sharing one such memory with his best friend and brother Robert Main, Jim decided it a good idea to traipse out into the woods and shoot on his next opponent Bam Miller. Before our antihero could conclude his vicious harangue however...





CONTINUED DIRECTLY FROM JIM CAEDUS'S "Regrets P.1"
http://xwf99.com/showthread.php?tid=42270




A sudden crashing through the brush interrupts Jim's angry tirade, diverting his attention. He turns, frowning, heart racing, as a massive form lumbers his way...



Jesus. Fuck.



He reaches up to grasp his gold nugget on a chain...


...only to recall he'd just lost it beneath Disneyland. Walt had taken it. He'd never gotten it back before Arcana had nuked Vault Disney.


His golden nugget is gone.









shhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhit.




"Regrets P.2"




click for background action score



The bear roars a second time, forcing a flinch from Jim as his blood runs cold.



WHY AREN'T YOU HIBERNATING!? Experiencing deja vu with the question, Jim suddenly spies a patch of furless flesh atop the bear's skull, a flashback snippet back in 2017 replaying in his head of smashing an entire tree over THAT particular bear's head... ...Fuckin' imPOSSible...YOU _AGAIN_!?


ROOOOOOAR!!


Fear mixed with rage, extending his arms to appear larger. RAAAAAAAAAAH!!!!


The bear is unfazed, raising on it's hind legs into a bipedal stance- ROOOOOOOOOOOAR!! -saliva flung from pink stained fangs.


Stumbling backward in horror, a shiver running through him, falling to his ass. Oh FUCK this!!



Jim twists over, rising to his feet, sprinting away for his life back towards the Main homestead-


The bear drops to all fours and gives chase!


Casting a hurried glance over his shoulder as he runs, Jim spots the colossal beast gaining ground behind him-



Pure terror. OH FUCK! OH FUCK! OH F-



-but unfortunately doesn't notice the thick tree trunk he barrels blindly into the second he turns his head back. He knocks against the solid wood and bounces backward, falling to the forest floor as stars flash before his eyes.


Noticing the warmth cascading onto his upper lip, he dabs at the skin beneath his nose, his fingertips coming away red-



ROOOOOOAR!!



-just as the bear closes the remaining distance between them and rears up slightly before swinging both front paws down upon him for a crushing blow!!


Jim manages to roll to the side, NARROWLY avoiding the bear's wicked, thick black claws. Jim FEELS the impact of the bear's weight crashing down beside him, can smell the musky odor of it's fur.


The bear, meanwhile, is inhaling the scent of Jim's blood...


...and it swings it's massive head towards it's prey-


-just in time to receive an eye-poke from Jim!! It ROARS angrily, shaking it's head as Jim, panicking, claws his way back up onto his feet and once more sprints awa-



AHH!!



Searing pain instantly thwarting his escape and he trips and falls to the ground again. Jim twists his body to see his left calf torn open with four slashes, white globules of fat and reddish pink muscle exposed as blood pulses from the wounds giving the appearance of him wearing a crimson sock.


He rises again, crying out in agony as he wills himself to stand, favoring his left leg and limping away as fast as he can.


The bear catches up with no difficulty whatsoever-



ROOOOOOAR



Jim spins, nearly dropping once more and taking that opportunity to snatch up a rock larger than his fist. Luckily faster than the bear, he hurls the rock like a pitcher, point blank, nailing the beast in the face!!


But the bear, again, is unfazed, shaking it off and charging in for an attack.



A tear falls. Please God...help me... Jim spins to limp away again-



-and the bear connects with a swung right paw at full force.



The trees become a blur as Jim flies backward...but he doesn't notice this, he only feels the blinding pain of his broken ribs, the trauma to his spinal cord, the breaking of his right arm at the elbow...and the impact as he hits the forest floor, eventually skidding to a stop.


Breathing becomes labored and incredibly difficult, his lungs probably crushed beneath his broken ribs, as the bear closes in for the kill.


Jim can feel it's hot breath on his face as he lies motionless- not because he has the wherewithal to remember 'play dead'...because he can't fucking move.


The beast paws at him, more tears falling from Jim's eyes as they unfocus...


...Jim farts. The bear emits the equivalent of an unpleasant snuff at the odor and moments later turns to saunter back into the depths of the forest, growling and rumbling as it vanishes from sight.


Jim farts again...but neither this nor the first represent anything other than a single, inarguable fact...









...Jim Caedus is dying.






His pupils dilate. All he can 'see' is darkness.



I'm sorry fam...


I love you...











His chest ceases it's rise and fall as a ragged, final groaned exhale escapes his broken body...and a final tear rolls down his cheek.











...Jim Caedus is dead.



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