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**Vincent Lane** · (02-19-2016)

“Loverboy” Vinnie Lane stares into his cell phone in disbelief as he watches the newest wave of XWF promos after disposing of some unwanted trash in the woods. Sweat still dots his brow from the exertion of piling the soil back into place over the trash bag filled with Mini Bourbon, and also from the headline of the main page of the XWF website –

XWF Presents Shove-It, with Universal Champion Ghost Tank defending…

“This is crazy. This is fucking crazy. I told Bourbon we shouldn’t fuck around with space time, god damn it. God DAMN it. What the fuck have you done, Robbie??”

Just then, a wave seems to flow over the scene. A wrinkle in time that Madeline L’Engle would be proud of.

As the time dilation passes, tiny details in the background shift. The shovel is gone. The mound of dirt, too. The XWF and CCWF Universal Championships materialize around Loverboy’s waist. And then, from off to the side, a boisterous voice.

“Vinnie! Come on man! We’re roasting marshmallows and making s’mores!”

Bourbon, Rebel Star, Luca, Blue, LeStrange, and others sit around a roaring campfire, all with sticks adorned with plump marshmallows. Next to Bourbon sits a smaller Bourbon, who waves his stick towards Loverboy as well.

“Yeah, come on man! It’s your turn to tell a scary story!”

Loverboy smiles, then shakes his head before walking towards the others.

“Holy shit, Robbie… you fuckin’ did it.”

Loverboy speaks into his cell.

Yeah, I know, it’s crazy. I’m all anyone can talk about, as usual. Their whole team dropped everything and tried to scream “NUH UH” at me as soon as I took aim at them. It’s adorable, man. Shit, even Mason Prince is trying to emulate me by telling shittier versions of my backstory. And EVERYbody stole my ‘talk shit about Ghost Tank constantly’ shtick. Amazing.

A pause.

They got who? Him, really? Luca is teaming with Maverick again after what happened last time?

Loverboy shuts the phone off with no goodbye. He shakes his head in disgust and then gives a disingenuous slow clap to the camera.

Bravo.

Bra-fucking-vo, to the both of you, really, but mostly to the maestro of running his mouth and then failing to back it up, Luca Arzegotti.

I don’t want to spend too much time on the Meme Queef though, really, the dude wants it too bad, you know? He’s basically begging for me to talk about him and spent his entire little diatribe trying to tear me down… but whatever. He’s irrelevant.

Here. Start a timer. I’ll give Luca exactly thirty seconds of my valuable time before moving on to the only guy that matters on his team. Ready? Go.

Luca. You and me, dude, we’ve done this shit before. Hell, I feel like I’ve beaten ten different versions of you already, man. It’s never mattered if you were some forlorn hitman or a delusional Mexican – what the fuck was that, anyway – you’ve never been able to stop me. The best you can claim is that you’re on my level. That might have even been true, three years ago. Not today, dude. Now you’re some poser trying to kick it with the internet kids, trying to be cool for your life partner Fernando, but you just look stupid skipping through hallways and hashtagging everything when you can’t get the job done, man.

And yeah, sure, keep talking yourself up because I pinned Harrison or Maverick instead of you. Then keep tagging with Maverick so you can throw him to the wolves again.

Long story short, you’re embarrassing yourself. You and me and anyone paying attention knows Fernando is the guy to watch out for in your little two-man human centipede, not you. So, please dude, thanks for all the attention, but I’ve got bigger fish to fry.

Loverboy checks his Swatch as the final second ticks off.

No, seriously, that’s all I’m giving him, tell him to fuckin’ deal with it.

He grins. A real one.

Hey Austin.

I have a hard time coming to terms with what you said to me, man… that shit cut me fucking deep.

Loverboy's face flushes in anger, but he can't keep it up and starts laughing, finally giving a fist bump to the camera lens with a metallic clink of ring against glass.

Nah, sike. I feel you man. I know what’s up, I really do. You and me, we can do this thing and go back and forth and try to get a point here and there. Yeah, man, you’re good. I never claimed otherwise. And sure, as much as I taught you how to use your skills, it was still you that had to go in there and actually do it. Props man, you earned it.

Real talk though, dude. How did you get tricked into letting Maverick anywhere near the same corner of the ring as you? It was Luca’s idea, wasn’t it? I mean, for real, I can understand why Game Girl makes sense. I mean, not against me, since I can beat her. Or him. Or whatever he/she is today. They’re interchangeable, you know? But the fact is, if we were eliminating people I could beat, you wouldn’t have a team at all, would you? Besides, she’s popular with the kids and is a cool chick, in general. I figure she’s got a few highlights left in her career before she goes obsolete and gets ported into a virtual reality fleshlight so she can spend the rest of eternity getting fucked by rich guys with big dicks like me. In fact, let me just go ahead and make a mental note to be the first in line when that happens. It’ll be a pretty awesome reunion.

But dude. Maverick? Really? The guy still has a farmer’s tan on his sperm-oiled stomach from losing the Hart Title to Gilmour. The Hart Title, which he only even still had in his possession because I allowed it, if you remember correctly. Here. Take a good look at exactly how much effort he put into retaining the one and only thing he’s ever been able to be proud of.

Hey, Remember When Quoting Like This Was Clever and Original? Said:
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Nothing. There's nothing here.

Wow. Great show, right? It reminded me a lot of when I pulled him up by his little baby nut hairs and let him have a main event match for once in his shitty life. Remember? Back In Black? He even got higher than Trax on the card, because he got to have a piece of the Loverboy rub. But what did he do then?

Was it sweet fuck all? I’m not sure, let me check.

Nah, Me Either Said:
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Definitely nothing.

Yup. Sweet fuck all it was. Poor son of a bitch got the extra chromosome beaten out of him in the first fall for his efforts, and then had it beaten right back into him for the second. Motherfucker never had a chance, but I had pity and let him leave with my old belt and then what’s he go and do? He swells Gilly’s head up like it was Ghost Tank’s distended colon by basically handing him a title. That’s your partner. That’s your teammate, dude.

Here’s what it really all comes down to though, man. Here’s the crux of the whole thing. I didn’t want to bring this up because, no matter what you think, I really do want what’s best for you. Maybe it’s just because you’ve been so far up my ass since your debut that it feels like I gave birth to you, but you’re kinda like a son to me in a weird way. So here’s a dose of truth, because you deserve it.

The Madness Series. The HART Title battle royal. That was the height of your flame, man. That was designed for you. That was supposed to be your MOMENT, dude! Sane and CorVus, they basically just rolled out a red carpet for you to win that thing, didn’t they? But something fucked up happened instead, remember? Do you remember what happened?

I broke you.

I hit the e-brake on the Fernando Freight Train and brought it screeching to a halt, and it ruined you inside. It took your soul and shat all over it so bad that you never even attempted a shot for that title against me, even though it had meant so much to you going into that match. You went into that battle royal with hopes for an Age of Austin, but instead you had to take a backseat to the Loverboy. Again.

What did you do? You went home. You quit. You gave up. We barely saw you around here for months after that and whatever reasons you gave or that you got the others to believe that’s cool with me, man… because I know the truth.

I got you.

I owned you.

And dude?

I never stopped.

And now, finally, you’ve sorta got your head screwed on straight again after I ruined your whole plan, and you come back and see that there might be some others here ready to grab that brass ring and take your spot before you ever can.

People like Chris Macbeth, or Alexis Riot, or Mason Prince… or even my own partners this week, Robbie Bourbon and Rebel Star. Maybe even LeStrange, if you keep hanging out with human buttplugs like Maverick. You came back in expecting that the world had stood still wand held the door for you, but that shit’s gone, man. You were back to square one, weren’t you? Back to hitching rides with the main eventers, like when you joined up with CCWF or now again with Luca. What’s that shit Frodo always calls everyone when they follow people around? Nah, you know what, never mind. I like you too much to give you Frodo’s tired shit, and if we get him involved the match won’t even happen until next week… I got too much to do to let that happen, man.

Let’s just wrap it up man to man, how’s that? You nutted up and you asked me for your shot, because you saw that I was right a year ago and that your fifteen minutes were running out. You saw 14:59 on the clock and you threw your little hipster fedora into the ring for a Uni shot. Stop wearing fedoras by the way, you look like a fucking idiot. You made your play and I respect that. Even though I have to politely decline, for your own good as I already explained, I do respect it. Now it’s time for you to accept it and live with it. Settle into your sidekick role because it’s as far as you’re ever going to get as long as I still feel like calling the XWF my home. There’s no shame in it after all, Fernando. I’m not insulting you when I say you aren’t as good as me. No one is as good as me. But dude, I’ll give you this – you’re as close as possible.

You don’t like it, I understand. You want more, I get that. Just give it time. Deal with it.

Learn to love it.

XOXO

Loverboy returns home, his adventure for the week seemingly at an end.

He walks into the front door of his luxury Malibu apartment and quickly strips off his dirty Whitesnake tee shirt, then drops the title belts loudly onto the kitchen counter.

“Hey baby.”

And then he sees her. Roxy Cotton, in all of her dangerously curved perfection, beckoning him from the bedroom doorway in her sheer purple negligee, with barely an inch left to the imagination.

“Oh, fuck… I’m a lucky guy.”

She smiles and arches her neck toward the bedroom, the only hint Loverboy needs. He hurries to her, kisses her deeply and starts unfastening his vinyl pants. The pair move backward into the boudoir and the door slams shut, accompanied by moans of pleasure.

Time passes, until…

“WHAT THE FUCK!!! NO NO NO!!!

AAAH!!!

AAAAAAAAAAH!!!!!!!!!”

The bedroom door swings open and Loverboy runs naked across his apartment, heading for the guest shower, where he turns the water on full blast and sits in the bottom of the tub, his knees to his chin, rocking back and forth and crying.

Roxy follows soon after, trying and failing to stifle the laughter.

“What’s wrong, baby? Cosmo said you’d love it…”

The End.

Post-2000 Word Bonus Scene!

John Madison is actually a really great guy and I respeHAHAHAHAHAHA

Sorry, I tried. Homo.

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