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Stevie Tyler · (06-28-2013)

8 Months Ago

"Dude, no. You have no idea. My parents wouldn't even let me watch the Ghostbusters cartoon when I was a kid. They saw like one episode that had some horned guy and thought it was gonna' 'invite demons into the house.'"

Stevie's roommate, LJ taps their card table impatiently.

"Oh, my bad. Didn't realize you were passing on your turn. Alright, well...since I've got my Extraplanar Lense out and 4 swamps and you're crawling with elves over there...I'll be tapping these and Reiver Demon. Deal with it." Stevie slams the Magic card onto the table and leans back in his cheap, folding chair.

"God, Reiver is such BS. So broken," LJ womanly complains (no offense, ladies).

"Broken? You've gotta' be kidding me. It costs 8 mana."

"Whatever, man. You got the whole idea for this deck of the internet, anyway. I'm not losing to you. I'm losing to the 1998 MTG World Champion. And you're not even paying attention, either. Too busy with your mommy-issues."

"Dude dude dude! They wouldn't even let me watch The Simpsons! Remember that episode with the Red Hot Chili Peppers?"

"It's only the greates show ever with the greatest band ever."

"That's debatable, but not the point. Remember they had the big, inflatable devil onstage with them?"

"Oh, my God, dude. Your parents were nuts," LJ says while laughing.

"That was it! They kept saying I was gonna' get possessed! What's crazy is they weren't even like that with everything. It would almost make sense if it was consistent. I sure couldn't play this game. Straight up possession here."

"Crazy talk. Is it my turn yet?"

"Oh, not yet...I'm swingin' for 1 with my Grimclaw Bat. Tink."

"Gotta' take it. I'm down to 17. My turn yet?"

Stevie nods and grins. LJ draws a card from his deck. He groans loudly.

"Gaaaaaahhhhhd. I need to shuffle better. Literally all I have are lands now."

He places a land card on the table and taps to let Stevie know he's passing the turn back to him.

"Heh...Ok, well...I'm gonna' put this little swamp right here, tap these 4 for another Reiver Demon..."

"Jesus...," LJ complains again.

"And tap this last swamp to cast a Dark Ritual annnnnn..."

Before he can finish his sentence Stevie finds himself in the middle of a green desert with...cacti?...made out of bones. A pile of taxforms roll past him not unlike a tumbleweed.

"LJ? Hello? Is...is anybody here?" he asks, although it's quite obvious he's alone. It smells like rancid milk and farts here, he thinks to himself. He gets hungry and disgusts himself. He looks all around and notices that the sky is a dark purple and the clouds are swirls of black and green. He starts to feel disoriented and sits down. That is his nature.

"What in the world is going on? This doesn't make any sense," he says to absolutely no one.

"Makes sense to me," says a 2-ft beast right behind him that was not there moments ago. The thing is squat, gray-skinned with 3 eyes and a broken, black horn on the side of it's head. It's got Vulcan ears and appears to be wearing a used diaper.

"Oh, apologies. My name is Nib. I, uh...I guess I was sent to get you. Baal'Nezz is really sorry for dumping you out here. That was a total accident. Happens sometimes. And, to answer your question, this is Hell, kid."

Stevie felt the blood rush out of his head. It's a good thing he was already sitting. He throws up on his lap, and starts to brush it off.

"Easy there! You're not gonna' finish that?" Nib says because he's a sick bastard. He scoops some of the vomit into his hands and puts in the diaper. "I don't like to eat alone. Save it for later. Come on, Stevie. Gotta' go meet Baal'Nezz."

Stevie pulls himself to his feet and follows Nib because, honestly, what else is gonna' do? They walk for what would be about 2 blocks, Stevie assumes. He can see things blowing in the wind, but can't feel it himself. The terrain on block 2 is a bit different. He now notices what looks like trails and homes scattered about. The pair arrive at a building that looks almost identical to Stevie's in the sane world.

Nib said, "He texted me saying to just come on in."

Where did he keep his phone? Why does he have a phone? They have texting in Hell? Whatever happened to Ralph Macchio? So many questions. They reach a particular apartment and walk in. Stevie is terrified to walk in. All of the things that's he's expecting are dark and twisted. He's about to be eaten, he knows it. Whatever Baal'Nezz is, he's going to peel the skin off of him and fry it like bacon.

Why is Stevie in Hell to begin with? Did LJ kill him? Was he that upset about having all his elves knocked off the table? It happens every time they play Magic, he should've seen it coming. Maybe he should've taken it easier on him. When did he kill him?

Suddenly, a hulking monster approaches the door. It has to be at least 7ft. tall and that's with it being hunched over. It's green-skinned with black plates jutting out of it's back. The thing has 2 very large horns and...a John Cena wristband.

It speaks.

"Dude, come on in. This pizza's not gonna' eat itself. Hurry up so we can catch RAW after the commercial."

Christ. Three hours of RAW. This really is Hell.

"I like watching it, but it really sucks that Santino's been gone so long." The beast hands him a plate with a slice of pizza. Surprisingly, it's just got cheese, pepperoni, and slice pepperoncinis.

"Oh, dude! I forgot. I'm Baal'Nezz Golgari. My friends call me Gary. You already met my roomie, Nib." Nib farts. "Gross, dude." Gary punches Nib in the arm. "Anyway, before it comes back on, I should let you know...first of all, that I'm really sorry. I know this is intrusive and unthoughtful of whatever you might have going on in your life but that number 2, I'm seriously, like, millions of years old and stuff and I've wanted to do this since at least 1968. It'll be fun, I promise."

Stevie finally finds it in himself to speak. "What will be fun?"

"OH, SNAP, DAWG! I thought Nib told you! Nib, bro, why didn't you tell him?" Gary punches Nib again. "Stevie, we're gonna' be a wrestler!"

"We're gonna' be what?" Stevie asks, even though he heard him clearly.

"A WRESTLER, MAN! Like Hulk Hogan or Horace Hogan. Yeah. See, I've wanted to do this forever but nobody's gonna' hire me because they're all discriminatory against demons or whatever, but YOU...Man, you...Well, you don't exactly have the look either, but they'll take you. I can make it work, dude, I promise. I'm gonna' possess you as soon as this is over."

"What? No. Nononono. No. Not happening," Stevie protested.

"I'm sorry, little bro. You kinda' did it to yourself," Gary reasoned.

"Wha? How?"

"Your mom TOLD you, man. She told you not to play Magic. The demon deck you were playing? HELLO? Dude, you threw down Dark Ritual. What do you think that is, man?"

"It's just a game," Stevie said in complete denial.

"Well, yeah, and it's an awesome game. I hear you. I really do. But, seriously, I've already been using your voice to talk to guys in the XWF and you're in in a few months."

Stevie had watched the XWF and knew all about the wrestlers there. XWF was home to the best of the best. And, he thought, the most violent. He threw up his pizza.

"You're not gonna' finish that?" said Gary and Nib in complete unison.

"Come on, man. I'm not built for wrestling. I've got lady hands. They're soft. I can't do this. Please, pick somebody else," Stevie pleaded.

"Dude, like John Cena is EVER gonna' play Magic. Get a grip. Do you even hear yourself? IT'S ON! EVERYBODY SHUSH!"

Stevie sat down in the corner of Gary and Nib's dingy couch and just put his head in his palms.

"Daniel Bryan is the best they've got. It's a shame they misuse him so much." Nib repeated a line he'd read repeatedly on the internet. Smug in his knowledge of the wrestling business.

"Dude, he is not! John Cena is one of the greatest of all time! He's even got the rappin' skills of Big...," Stevie lost consciousness as Gary was being completely and utterly wrong.

He came to, sitting at his card table in his own living room with puke covering his roommate and both of their decks.

"What the fuhhggg...fuhhggg...," LJ barely mustered before adding even more vomit to the scenario.

"Oh, God. I...I think mom was right."

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