I awake to the slow drip of a leaky faucet, my mind drenched in confusion as I sit up from the cold concrete floor. Sweaty chills run down my warped spine as I pat myself up and down, just making sure that my body’s still in one piece. Thankfully, it is! Except I seem to be missing my right ear…..is that new? I rest a hand on my head and close my eyes, trying to remember how the hell I got here in the first place……but it’s no use. I can’t remember.

Can you?

Either way, I shake the cobwebs out of my mind with a few forceful twirls of the noggin. As I push myself up to my feet I immediately feel something firm against my scalp, preventing me from reaching my true height.

A glass ceiling.

The glass was set to my exact height, as if it were put there just to make me feel small. The glass was cold, calculating, uncaring: yet still, I felt a radiating warmth coming off the nichrome wire embedded all throughout the ceiling. I wonder what that stuff’s for? Regardless of its meaning, the heated glass wire makes for a welcome guest in this damp and lonely hideaway.

Still, it’s not enough to keep my chills at bay.

Instinctively, I bring my arms over my chest to conserve heat as I walk beneath the only source of my warmth. My teeth clack together as my body shakes, the cold air around me whipping itself into a frenzy, as if being worked into a rage by the laborious breaths of Boreas himself (google it, bitch).

I rub some snot off my frosted nose before wiping my hand on the glass ceiling. My left hand…..

Jesus motherfuck!

I recoil sharply as a searing pain shoots into my hand from the burning wires. I raise my left hand and squint through the darkness, staring at the severe burn scars that have suddenly sprouted upon my flesh. But for some reason the seared flesh on my hand appears to have been roasted ages ago, a true mystery to my crack-addled mind.

As I try to turn my body, I realize that the glass is not only on the ceiling: it’s completely surrounding me. My blood pressure spikes as my anxiety rises….because just where the fuck am I?

I start placing my hand out in front of me, one burned and one virgin, trying to feel for an open space in the glass…but it’s no use. On every side of me is a glass panel with heated wires, and they all burn. Beyond the glass I see only darkness.

Where the hell am I?!

Suddenly, the wires in the glass flip ‘off’ and begin losing their heat. The temperature around me drops even further, and I can feel my heartbeat falling with it. This couldn’t be good….wherever I was, the situation was becoming dire: and I needed something to change, quick!

As if upon my command, one of the glass panels trapping me in place suddenly cracked vertically. I tried to stake a step back but couldn’t, because there wasn’t any space for lil’ ol’ Charlie in these parts. Yet still, somehow and someway, the cracked glass shattered, creating a gap in my confinement. With the frosty winds ripping through the darkness and whipping my bare flesh, I felt no choice but to walk through the newly shattered space. Thankfully, it was just large enough for a Nickleman to slip through!

The glass ceiling forces me to hunch down as I creeped forward into the dark unknown, stepping all over broken glass, hoping for the best but always prepared to be the worst.


It was cold.

Colder than it had ever been.

Inside the worthless heart of this Nickleman!




What can you take away from the man who has nothing?

A man who has been given nothing, a man who has been spit on and ridiculed, a man who has been cast away and discarded. A man who has had to work for everything he has, a man who has sacrificed blood, sweat, and tears for his sacred NOTHINGNESS.

A man who was never welcomed, never accepted, never wanted. A man who has survived hell and highwater just to be told that he will NEVER be enough, time and time again, just because he IS. A man who knows praise comes from the backhand, a man who always bites the hand that feeds.

So I ask again….what can you take away from the man who has nothing?

That’s what the Doctor is tasked with this week.

I pause as I hear a madman’s ramblings being piped into the scene. I look up with a curious cock of the head as I swear I’ve heard that voice before…was it coming from the glass ceiling? I put my ear against the glass to listen closer and….FUCK! It burned me again! Jesus…I probably should have seen that one coming. I run my left hand up to my ear, and suddenly my ear is MISSING!

But wait….have I always been short an ear? I pause in thoughtful reflection as I carefully consider the question, as well as my current predicament. I don’t make any progress on either question, because that sweet sweet cocaine is still coursing through my veins and running the show. But…could the two questions possibly be related?

Nah.

I shrug, quickly accustoming myself to the new searing sensation on the side of my head. I continue lurching forward, unstoppable as I approach my destination….wherever the fuck that may be!

Can Doc take my pride? My dignity? My dreams?

Fuck…what is there left to take? By this point you’re picking over years-old meat, spoiled and soured.

’Charlie Nickles will never be a universal champion, he can’t win the big one!’....

So? Is this match secretly for the uni, did I miss a memo or a carrier pigeon? Or did Doc just watch ALIAS’s promos against me and start jacking lines or something? Come on you senile Soldierfucker, I’m the one jacking ALIAS’ swagger this week! Don’t copy what I’m copying, you lazy fucking copycat!

Shit, no wonder Vinnie and Theo would never let me go against Doc D’Ville for the universal championship….they’ll never let me waltz into that belt the easy way. It’s the same reason they wouldn’t let me fight Peter Vaughn for the big one, because we ALL saw how that one would have played out!

I had to come to grips with this hard truth years ago, when I realized that Theo Pryce would sooner create a twitter Trilogy than properly recognize The Nickleman’s pedigree. The XWF just can’t take the taste of a Nickleman championship reign, and with all the chips stacked against me it’s starting to look like The Nickleman will never reach the river, only the flop.

That’s why you’re about to see the turn, it’s just a few minutes away, in live action HD!

The swaggerless stylings of a lunatic don’t distract me as I continue moving forward, undeterred and far beyond reproach. I still wasn’t sure where I was, but I knew exactly what I was doing: getting the fuck out of here! I still felt the glass above me and to my sides, but now, I noticed that I could still feel glass behind me with every step. It’s like the glass was following me, blocking me in, preventing me from ever going back on this path I’ve made????.
But i wasn’t concerned because i was just moving forward?

The only thing the Doctor can take from me is an all-expense paid vacation down a fucking chimney!

That sounds like the Doctor, doesn’t it? “Vacation”? I wonder if he was still on the XWF dole for this entire year, even if he only showed his wrinkly face four times on television. This lazy fucking ‘legend’ doesn’t take vacations away from the ring, he takes vacations back TO the ring! But this CHEAP son of a bitch can only ever afford a one-night stay, no tours and no cruises, because he’s not INVESTED in the future of this federation like I am! I’m a cornerstone of the new era, the most prominent face on today’s wrestling mount rushmore, so of course I want to see the XWF prosper long into the future. Putting this federation on my back and carrying it into the future is how I’m making my legacy, baby!

The ungrateful among you call me a glory hog and a narcissist, but ol’ Dawk is the only one coming into this match with an inflated ego. That geezer thinks he’s at the top of my list? Fuck, tell me you missed the entire summer without telling me you missed the entire summer. Everyone fucking knows the guy at the top of my list is him, and if Doc doesn’t know who he is, then that just goes to show how much fucking mental degradation he pummeled into ol’ Dawk! Or maybe it goes to show you that I’ve already scratched him out of this federation, and off my fucking list- rendering the rest of the list useless.

Either way the Doctor can’t take shit from me, because the streets will always know what I’m about and the critics will never bring themselves to admit it…but I know exactly what I can take from the Doctor.

His ’good’ fucking name!!!!!!

Charlie Nickles can’t get it done in big-time matches, Doc said it himself….so when The Nickleman gets his hand raised in victory tomorrow night, everyone will know right then and there that Doc’s days of being in the ‘big-time matches’ are long fucking gone. These days, the Doctor is just a lazy sequel, equal parts uninspired and repetitive. His prime was so long ago the new fans don’t even know who he is, if you tell them I’m fighting the Doctor they’ll probably just say WHO?

Take one fucking gander at his latest vignettes and you’ll see what I mean. Doc D’Ville was running around acting like the Milli Vanilli of pro wrasslin’. This literal piece of dogshit is bout’ to get fucking dogwalked for trying to pass off someone else’s homework as his own. This ‘space wizard’ was really sitting at home one day, probably in his Lay-Z-Boy chair, drinking a god-damned diet soda watching Christmas movie marathons. He saw ‘A Christmas Carol’ and thought ‘shit, I kinda look like that saggy geezer!’, and now he’s running Charlie Dickens’ plays with only the slightest of audibles.

That’s lazy. That’s hackneyed. That’s fainéant. Yeah, you deaf fucks, I said ‘fainéant’. If you don’t know what ‘fainéant’ means, lemme’ define it through context. Doc wasted all his time cosplaying a Charles Dickens character that meant fainéant, so when the last ever Savage rolls around Doc’s going to get……

CHARLES DICK-EN HIS ASS! 

I trek and I trek, moving forward through the darkness without a second thought as my body grows increasingly numb. I’m not sure if it’s from the street drugs or the chilling cold, but either way I know I need to soldier through it if I want to get out of this place!

No one wants to see Doc D’Ville anymore, they want to see Charlie Nickles and his bastard boys.

What, you don’t believe me?

Just take another gander at the good bitch himself, and you’ll see what I mean! He won’t even come to the fucking camera by himself anymore, because he knows no one wants to watch an old man shuffle around aimlessly for years. No one wants to see Doc D’Ville on their TV screens….they want to see CHAW-LEY! Even Doc D’Ville wants to bring my loveable mug to the people, I mean, have you seen the cameo he’s given me in his latest video package?

OF COURSE YOU HAVE! Because Doc had the good sense to foreshadow the appearance of my name, image, and likeness in his last vignette! Because he knows what sells, he knows what the people want, and he knows who to get it from…..ME!

It’s good that Doc is listening to the people and trying to get back in sync with the norms and standards of the new XWF I’ve crafted. Good for him, and good for me! There’s just one problem, however, and I don’t want this to get lost in translation. So Doc, make sure you turn your hearing aid up this time and really listen to what I’m about to say: .

When I told you to develop a character last week, I didn’t mean you should try to develop MY character!

You fucking idiot! Have you even read Dickens? I haven’t, but I’m pretty fucking sure the old sack of bones LEARNED LESSONS from the ghosts. Real ones, that changed his life and shit! That’s what makes Dickens’ story good and memorable! What fucking lessons are you going to learn, doughboy? Nothing that sticks with you past tomorrow night, I guaran-fucking-tee that. The only lesson you’re going to learn is that you should never wrestle Charlie Nickles more than once, because sooner or later he WILL clean your fucking clock!

ESPECIALLY if it’s a grandfather clock!

I squint my eyes in disbelief, pausing for a brief moment before a big smile pops onto my face.

There’s a light at the end of this freezing glass tunnel! I take off in a dead sprint as I charge towards the obscured rays of light waving to me from the end of this madness. I feel the sudden joy of relief as all my confusion washes away. I still didn’t know where I was, but I always knew what I was doing: and now, I finally knew WHY I was doing it! All of it was for this! For this shining, guiding light!

As I ran for the light I could still feel the glass all around me, but now, it didn’t feel quite so oppressive. I was able to breathe more freely despite the suffocating cold, the numbing of my body was overcome with the purpose of my mind. I knew that it would all be worth it once I finally reached that light!

But when I reached it, I didn’t know what to do with it.

My sprint came to a sudden halt as I ran up on the light I had so forcefully struggled to reach. Now that I was here, I could tell that the glorious light was peeking out from behind a painted front door.

An uncomfortably familiar door.

The door to my old family home.

With mixed emotions and a newfound sense of dread, I slowly pushed open the door and crept inside…..




Jolly old Saint Nickleman
Lean your ear this way
Don't you tell a single soul
What I'm going to say


I step into my old living room, and it looks exactly like I remembered it: but with a bigass Christmas tree tucked away in the corner with minimal ornaments upon it and gifts beneath it. Connie always loved her tacky holiday shit. A few tattered pieces of furniture surround a box television with a cracked screen. The growing pit in my stomach rumbles, reminding me that I cracked the TV screen after Connie refused to help me steal her mother’s pain medications.


Christmas Eve is coming soon
Now, you dear Nickleman
Whisper what you'll bring to me
Tell me if you can


I glance over to an antique radio resting on the mantle above our boarded-up fireplace, playing distorted Christmas music. I remember that Connie was so excited to move into a house with a chimney, but she was so disappointed when she found out the landlords closed it up years ago. Of course, I knew the entire time….but I never liked sharing the full truth with Connie. I always felt like I had more power and control when she was in the dark on certain things….on, well, everything.

Connie must have felt like she was walking on glass around me. Not sure what she can do right, not sure what I want from her, not sure what she needs to do to make the terror stop. As I look back to the cracked TV screen, I’m reminded of the similar mark I left on Connie’s pretty little face. My stomach rages with nausea, because in my heart of hearts I know Connie didn’t deserve that. She didn’t deserve any of it!

I feel a wave of regret wash over me, but then, another wave of excitement washes that away as I see Connie and my kids walk into the living room! They’re all wearing matching pajama sets, with printed-on reindeer and elves set across a red polyester background. They looked pretty cute. My kids looked a lot younger than I remember them being, but shit, I rarely saw the little bastards so I didn’t think twice about it.

Until they ran right through me, like I wasn’t even there.

Come to daddy! Your family man is back!

I hopped down on one knee as I swung my arms out wide, anticipating some big hugs from Tyler and Emily….gestures of affection that never came.

Can we open up presents now, mommy?!

She said we have to wait til’ daddy gets home!

But I’m here…I’m actually here this time, somehow, someway….

The kids run right to the Christmas tree, but hey….they’re just kids. Of course they’re stupidly excited about the presents! I wonder what Connie got them….I hope she said some of them were from me. I turn and look back to the mother of my only son, and she looks as gorgeous as she did when I first met her…but her mascara is runny, and her nose looks red from irritation.

Well….at least it’s nice to see you again.

As my ex-wife approaches I reach out and try to peck her on the cheek: but I don’t feel anything at all. Not in an emotional sense, like some sort of lovelost divorcee….I mean literally, I don’t feel anything at all when I try to touch her!

I step back in shock as Connie walks right through me, towards the children who are eagerly divvying up the sparse presents beneath the tree. Connie kneels down and places a hand on the shoulder of each child, sniffling to herself before looking between the kids with immeasurable strength.

I don’t think your father is going to be home for Christmas this year.

Again?!

Again….

Connie looked away in shame, biting her tongue as a single tear slipped out the corner of her eye. I could tell she didn’t want to bury me in front of the kids, both literally and metaphorically, like I’ve so often tried to do to her. I could tell from the quiver in her lip that she was struggling to hold it together right now. Tyler looked to the floor, downtrodden.

Told you! So can we open the presents now?

Connie looked towards our front door longingly, staring right through my empty soul. I fall back against the door, defeated, sliding down to the floor as I lose the last legs I was standing on: the very same way my family lost me ages ago. Connie turns back towards the kids and, with an aching pain in her voice, tells them to go ahead without me.

Yeah…you can open the presents.

Which ones are from dad?

All the presents are from your father and I equally…

Yeah right.

Emily rolls her eyes, but I can see that she’s just using sarcasm to mask her pain and disappointment. No wonder Emily doesn’t love me anymore.

I lean back against the door, as ethereal and absent as ever. I’m still missing from my family’s Christmas portrait, even as I sit mere feet from them. But my life is just like that damned glass hallway: there’s no going back on my path…..or is there?


ITTTTT’’’’SSSSS PRESENTS TIIIIIMMMMEEEEE! PRESENTS UNWRAPPING MONSTER UNLEAAASSSHHHHEEEEDDD!

Tyler jumps to his feet and starts pounding on his chest like King Kong, exactly like I taught him to do. Even the sadness suffocating my soul couldn’t stop me from chuckling as he picked up a Christmas present and piledrived it to the ground! Then, he furiously unwrapped the box before opening it up and pulling out a torn piece of notebook paper.

Oh it’s…..it says it’s an I-O-U…..what’s that?

Connie puts a comforting hand on Tyler’s head as she fights back her own tears. I shake my head in disgust, with myself and my decisions, before shifting my rageful gaze to the radio above the fireplace that just WON’T SHUT THE FUCK UP!

When the clock is striking twelve
When I'm fast asleep
Down the chimney broad and black
With your pack you'll creep

Gifted nothing but destitution, my wife and children break into tears. As I watch my family shatter I can’t help but to join them, but this is a view I can’t bear to have. I wipe the weeping wetness from my face before pulling myself back up to my feet. I look back to my family one last time before pushing back through the front door. I can’t shake the taunting whispers as I walk away from my family, just like I always have before….


You fucking deserve this.

We all know you deserve this.

Even YOU know you deserve this!

Where were you, when they needed you most?

You weren’t here.

So where were you?

Does anyone know where he was, when he wasn’t here?

I hoped beyond hope that you were dead, and now tomorrow night, I get the chance to make some real change the XWF can believe in! Because I’m the NICKLEman, bitch! So you should already know that making CHANGE is just what I do! What does Doc D’Ville een know about change? Shiiit, the only time Dawk ever thought about changing was when ALIAS made him soil his adult fucking diapers!

If Doc D’Ville was even half the star he says he is, he should’ve been here this year when the chips were down and the XWF needed the help. This summer I was the only man to regularly bounce between Savage and Warfare, headlining show after show like the god-damned Beatles in the flesh. We had 2-match cards and I carried the load, but one man can only do so much. Eventually, the ‘help’ has to actually help out! But we couldn’t even get a god damned cameo from the Doctor. He doesn’t think we needed the ratings, or what? We lost a fucking program on next year’s TV deal because we couldn’t fill the time slots, AM I THE ONLY ONE WHO THINKS THAT’S A PROBLEM?!

Now doesn’t this reverse the grain?

I thought Charlie Nickles was supposed to be the bad guy, a pure fucking vermin who does no good for nobody. I thought Doc D’Ville was supposed to be a homegrown XWF legend, one who’d go down with the ship before fleeing like a rat: but I guess conventional wisdom has been wrong before. It’s like I said last week, these names speak for themselves…you just have to know what you’re listening for!

Do you know what I want you to be listening for this week?

No, you’re not going to find it here. But you’ll see it soon enough, if you’ll just lend me an ear.

It’s like I’ve been saying all along, our names speak for themselves. All year long I’ve been telling everyone exactly who I am and what I stand for: namely, the entirety of the XWF! But I don’t just stand for it. I walk for it, I leap for it, I bleed for it, I win for it and I lose for it. I climb the peaks of professional greatness for the XWF, I chase down the legends for the XWF, I do the things they say can’t be done for the XWF!

I even do the things they don’t want me to do for the XWF.

Yet still, only a fool or a charlatan could deny the fact that I’ve got legendary reigns tied to this federation, like a powerful Oxen dragging us all through uncharted lands, sturdy and strong! I was the last Supercontinental Champion anyone will remember, and I’m the only TV champion anyone needs to know- yet still, that’s only scratching the surface of my burgeoning legacy.

Can you feel it, Doc? You selfish fucking prick? Can you feel that sharp anguish in your chest, just working that way through your body? That’s my legacy about to be free from your rotted fucking corpse.

You fucking deserve this.

We all know you deserve this.

Even YOU know you deserve this!