“Vinnie, did you make your list?”

Roxy Cotton’s voice was lilting, musical. The flirtatious whimsy in her teasing voice was always a good sign for “Loverboy” Vinnie Lane.

Flirting and toying and teasing always led to touching, then fucking.

It was pretty good to be Loverboy.

“Yeah, I did mine… you’re done too, baby?”

She smiled again. Staring into Loverboy’s eyes, the saccades of her eyes focusing everywhere all at once.

“Well, who’s on it?”

“No way, Roxy! You go first!”

The classic sitcom scenario. Roxy and Loverboy decided to write lists of five possible ‘freebies’ – other people they’d be allowed to sleep with that couldn’t be held against them.

“Alright, alright, how about this? We both put our lists on the table at the same time, and we both read them together?”

“Yeah… that’s fair.”

Like a couple of school kids playing rock, paper, scissors, Loverboy and Roxy count to three and simultaneously place their little notepads on the coffee table in front of them.




“What the fuck???”

“Oh Vinnie… Upton? Lawrence? You’re so predictable.”

“Dude, why in the fuck is Wallace on this list?”

"Margot Robbie's hot though... good choice there..."

"Answer me! Why would you list Wallace?"
“Why not? He’s nice! And his cock is massive.”

“Yeah, well, he stuck his cock in Frodo’s daughter the other day. That thing’s about to rot off.”

“Ew.”

“Yeah. But still, what the hell, man? That’s my partner! And my opponent! You can’t do that shit, man, that’s not cool!”

“I don’t see you getting mad that Iris is on there.”

“Hey, you’ll have to take that up with Bobby. Little dude probably has no idea that his stepmom-to-be is a clam digger. Besides, you know I’m cool with bringing other chicks into the bedroom.”

“Right, but I want her to myself… no dicks allowed with me and Iris, Vinnie.”

“Well why not? You love dick!”

“I do. Iris is a delicate little thing, though, Vinnie. She looks like a virgin. I wouldn’t want to scare her off. You don’t want to ruin her for every other guy right from her first, do you?”

“Uh, yes, absolutely.”

“Well, no. I overrule. It’s my list.”

“Yeah well, you better take Wallace off. I’m putting the veto on that motherfucker. Besides, the poor dude is gonna get beat at Turning Point if he keeps trying to put himself over. He won’t be able to get it up after his self-confidence gets crushed.”

“Hmmm… you’re probably right.”

Roxy leans over and scratches TJ’s name from her list. She hovers over the blank space below it momentarily, pondering, then just sets the pen down next to the pad and kisses Loverboy on the cheek.

“What, you’re not going to pick a fifth?”

“Nope. I’m good with four. Assuming you don’t mind those choices?”

“Axl and Mick? Of course I don’t mind! Those two dudes are on the Mount Rushmore of rock! But you’re sure you don’t want to add on? This is the last chance you’ll get, you know? What about… Channing Tatum? Or Bill Clinton?”

“Gross, Vinnie. Bill Clinton repealed Glass-Steagall. And Channing Tatum sucks in bed.”

“Wait…”

“Anyway, you know what this means, right?”

Loverboy looks pensively at the notepads again, trying to figure out what riddle Roxy is presenting him. Eventually, he gives up and just shrugs at her.

“No idea, dude.”

“It means… we have got to get backstage the next time Charli XCX is in town.”

“She’s so fancy.”

“You already know.”

Loverboy grabs Roxy and pulls her down into the cushions of the sofa as she giggles against his neck.

It's definitely good to be Loverboy.




Essentially, what we’ve learned about the alleged favorite to win in the number one contender match at Turning Point is this:

One, when Justin Sane says he wants to be alone, what he means is he wants to hang out with a fat French Canadian who writes vampire books in between bouts of trying to find his own pecker.

Two, when Justin Sane wants people to see his “tough” side, he shows it off by smoking Marlboro Lights. Wow, Justin. That’s edgy, man. It’s not as bad ass as Ozzy snorting a line of ants or anything, but puffing on cigarettes advertised towards women is definitely a tough thing to do. What, was the store out of Virginia Slims?

Oh, and three… Justin Sane is out of his god damn mind. Wait, let me correct myself, Justin FUCKING Sane. It’s scarier when you add the fucking, right? Either way, this dude has gone off his rocker.

My bad Justin, did I say dude again? Is that starting to get on your nerves… dude?

You see, it’s really pretty simple to understand that Justin Sane has no god damn clue what to do this week. Yeah, sure, he says he’s upset about Gator texting me, right? Guess what, man, Gator and me have been running buddies since before you got dry behind your ears. I’m his friend, you’re his partner. There’s a difference, dude, and that difference is that you’re a means to an end, nothing more. Truth be told, I wish you guys all the luck in the world. Now that tag team titles aren’t a concern of mine, I think it would be awesome if the two of you dethroned the kings together. Hell, maybe throw that mime that’s been following you both around into the mix and try to get the Trios away from the Underground after they win them next Warfare. That’d be a hell of a fine match, right?

The thing is, I don’t really have to go into how Gator and I are tighter than the two of you could ever be. You mentioned it as if it was going to be some big talking point for me, but really it isn’t even a topic worth the time and effort. It’s clear to everyone in the XWF, and it’s clear to you too. Why else would you run off to fucking Kansas of all places like Superman trying to visit his parents? Or are you looking for Toto? Can I get another movie reference in here? No? You know why? BECAUSE NOBODY GOES TO FUCKING KANSAS.

God damn it, man. I just don’t even understand how you can think so highly of yourself and say it out loud with a straight face. Your accomplishment is star of the month? And? The only reason you were even in that conversation is because you were seen in a ring with me. I’m a former champion, Sane. I carried all three Trios belts on my own for months. I held the X-Treme title, even the Heavy Metalweight title. What have you done?

Don’t take that wrong, dude, I know what you’re capable of. You hit with strength, and you’re faster than most. Let’s face it though, man, you beating me last month was a fluke. A fluke that paid off for you in terms of recognition and finances, but still a fluke. Oh, and you’re welcome, by the way. That makes twice you’ll have championship opportunities handed to you by me. Once, I bought your way into a TV Championship match, and you shat the bed. Now, me letting you breathe the same air as myself resulted in you getting handed a 24/7 briefcase. A briefcase, by the way, that will almost certainly become the first ever non-successful cash-in in XWF history.

That’s the difference between you and me, man. You can go in the ring, no doubt, just like I can. You can talk a sweet game, and when the stakes are low you can back it up. But when the heat of that spotlight is right on you, dude, you melt like a candle. Yeah, that’s right, Sane, I’m bringing up your biggest losses again, just like you said. You know why it’s so predictable? Because it’s true. You choked at the King of the Ring, a tournament I didn’t even bother wasting my time in, and you choked in the TV match. What, you’re on the rebound because you beat Scully? Ghost Tank beat Scully. I’ve taken shits that could beat Scully. Check my Instagram.

No, Sane, you’re not on the up and up. You’re as high as you’re going to get. You got lucky against me once, but you are damn sure not going to gain another title opportunity at my expense, dude. Not this one. This is my destiny, not yours. I tore apart the best competitors Miranda Tigris could recruit, and Maverick, in order to get where I’m standing now. You? You beat Austin Fernando, and I bet you couldn’t even do it again. Iris? She beat Cain. And TJ? Come on, man, TJ beat Maverick. Maverick, the guy you essentially tied with in that Television title match, by the way.

If you don’t mind though, dude, I want to back up a little bit. I mentioned Scully earlier, and the fact that Ghost Tank beat him. It reminded me that you equated Tank with me.

Justin… that really hurt my feelings, man.

Seriously.

We’re not talking about a respectful level of shit talking, like I’m doing with you. Blah blah blah, you’re a , you suck dicks, whatever. You know, like gentlemen.

No, you go below the belt and try to compare me to that waste of space Ghost Tank. The same guy who got hung up on hooks by Calypso – who’s a pretty chill dude, by the way, you should meet him. The same Ghost Tank who lost to Caroline, a woman whose only other major accomplishment in the XWF is being assfucked by Frodo and somehow not getting HIV. You know who else beat up and embarrassed Ghost Tank recently, Justin? Me. I did. In between getting concussed by Ruben Mitchell and getting my face smashed against a car by Iris, I took Tank’s best and gave it right back to him ten times over, lifting the fat fucker off the ground with herculean strength and planting him on his black-toothed face. That’s how I spent Christmas, Justin; beating guys like Frodo and Tank while you sat at home and thought about how great you are.

I expect a full apology from you for even suggesting that me, “Loverboy” Vinnie Lane, the MVP of Madness, the megastar, the soon-to-be number one contender, and the future Universal Champion, could ever be considered equal or lesser to a sack of human waste like Tank. If I spit from where I am, it would take a full minute to land on Tank’s Manic Panic Green head.

And on its way down? It would pass you.