(continued from backstory in "Dollygagging")

"Jesus...I had no idea shitty houses like this existed in HB of all places. This is a fuckin' dump, it sure doesn't look like distribution money, Matt."

The hovel I'm referring to is probably a mere 900 to 1000+ square feet with two squat brick walls extending from both west and east borders to the sidewalk (a split-by-walk-up lawn between them), complete with taller spiked security fencing rising from the masonry atop each brick wall. Dirty white exterior, rusty white wall/fencing. Looks like the higher end houses in the worst parts of Long Beach.

"Oh, yeah," Matt laughs nervously, "dude sells out of his mom's house. His place is in Dana Point."

I open the passenger door.

"No, stay here."

I close the door, refusing to respond out of irritation. Fuck did you bring me for then asshole? I watch as he walks swiftly up to the front door, entering before knocking.

It takes only a few minutes tops but it feels like fifteen. Here I am, coked up for the first time in broad, cloudless sky daylight where anyone can see me through completely tintless windows, recognize me or my euphoric state and call the cops. Or worse...

I envision a crew of 3 running up on the truck wielding loaded Berettas, discovering I'm nothing but a witness and blasting away at my vulnerable position, swiss-cheesin' my ass while I try to crawl out the driver's side door of the truck like fuckin' 2Pac-

Matt saunters out with a brown paper bag folded in the shape of a brick and hops back in. We depart.

For months it's more of the same with the uneventful situations and it becomes apparent that I _am_, in fact, nothing more than hired bragging rights or, just as likely, a hired friend. I should find that pathetic but...I don't. And hell, he HAS been paying me. Five twenties each day I "work" for him as well as a kicked down dub of my own leading into days off.

Most days on, we'd sit in his room snorting while he perused Craigslist personals for sales and/or coke sluts lookin' to party, an entire community of junkies leavin' electronic evidence behind and yet...not ever suffering the consequences as far as I'd seen. It was positively nuts.

It was a hot day in September 2010 that Matt managed to get one particular duo of powder-for-panty-drop dames to swing over from Huntington Beach...one of which would turn out to be Holly herself. Entering into a relationship with Holly effectively ended everything, including the "security detail", with Matt Plinus...but it didn't end the coke use. In fact, it could be said our relationship sprung from a bed of pure white soil, rooted and drinking from the swelling stream of growing addiction, flowering in the future tainted fruit.

Holly and I left Plinus in the dust and switched up dealers to a strung out surfer named, oddly enough, Matty. In a month we'd gone from gradual to adap (as daily as possible), our favorite pastime defined as cutting lines and snorting up 1-2 grams a night with 2 1/2 inch cut lengths of McDonald's straw up both nostrils (not at once, don't be absurd) while attempting to uncover all the goddamn hidden-in-objects umbrella icons and coins throughout Resident Evil: Darkside Chronicles on Wii and let me tell you...by the time we'd logged several days of playtime together, that bitch and I could literally pop _almost_ every single light bulb in the game that you CAN shoot. Needless to say the habit got extremely expensive.

By the end of 2010 I was already constantly asking my own mother for loans in increments of 50 (culminating in my asking her for $150 to snag an eightball 9 days before Christmas) and having to travel to grandma's down the street to do so, still wondering why she wasn't getting any better, no improvement in her health. As if on cue returning from HB with said eightball I'd discover why.

I remember it well as the last gasp of my '84 Mercedes SEL 420 (the Millenium Muthafalcon), calling for a tow at an intersection in Lakewood and catching the display-only text notification from my big brother John that read:

3:14 PM
Did mom tell you her cancer is back?

TBC
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~


"Dead in the Waters"
(continued from "Like Waters off a Dick's Back")




-Saturday, March 25 2017, 2:09 PM LOCAL-

-Island Caedus, Ocean Of Caedus @ 39.291605, 124.738011, Yellow Sea-



Christ alfuckinmighty that fisherman's corpse simply REFUSES to ride the tide on outta here. Startin' to get ripe. The crabs have been feasting but it just ain't enough.

'Sure doesn't seem to be any evidence of predation via larger carrion eaters. I give it another five days before we start gettin' a ballooning of putrescence goin' on...including a mass of flies and maggots.'

Yeah, be nice if Kimmy had that cleaned up for me...

'Speakin' of your corpulent Korean comrade...don't you two have a date comin' up?'

Oh that's right, no it's tomorrow. Says he has somethin' real special planned.

'Yeah, well...I wouldn't recommend waitin' 'til tomorrow to respond to both Dolly and Trax's latest promos. You should head on into that House of a Thousand Corpses Kimbo had built for you and cut a promo with the film crew he left you in the meantime.'

Agreed.

Lion-O, my new caracal companion Kimmy gifted me on Thursday scampers past chasing some sort of palearctic butterfly as I make my way up to my mini palace of posthumously preserved pussy.

I look and nod to my ZIC (zip in charge) who barks at the film crew. Fearing for their lives should they upset their glorious leader's best pal, they scurry to set up...

..................................

"Wow...if the two of you, Dolly...Trax...are teaching me anything here it's that your powers of denial far outweigh anything else in your repertoire.

You're first Trax and first _off_...regarding the whole OOC/IC combo thing...if you don't know that that's the same bread and butter I've been suppin' upon successfully for months now you've been completely ignoring my journey in the XWF.

Secondly, what the fuck Trax? You tryin' to make me feel bad about _lightly_ molding your racial makeup into my smack talk stew? Jesus, it ain't like I'm droppin' N bombs over here.

Third...never mind the povs or the profiling, Dark Kent, the Daily Planet front page news here is you contradicting your own tag partner to Dolly. You're not only a superhero you're also an adult, a wrestler, black AND a man. At least, you're SUPPOSED to be all those things...I don't know, we'll let the fans decide after I remind everyone you possess the ability/curse of sensing the auras of people. Folks, this guy is even able to zero in on specific targets from a substantial distance away. It's how you knew where to find me during that bank heist in L.A. ["True Men of the People" LLR3] if you recall, Trax. Shit, what am I saying, of COURSE you recall, _you_ possess the fucking ability after all. Right? You're so motherfuckin' amazing you can heal, deflect bullets, teleport and FPS small armies with badass energy beams, you could sense my aura from however far away you were...but you didn't notice Dolly's aura in the Buronan get-up RIGHT BESIDE YOU in round one? You wouldn't have us all believe you're that inept would you? You wouldn't wanna appear so weak before stepping into the finals at Lethal Lottery 4 and Trax, I swear to Christ, you try to claim that crap about you 'shutting off' your powers in the ring for fair play and I'll fuckin' smack you. You may clap off in matches but when you ain't wrasslin' all that shit is clap on. Again, deny it for convenience and/or saving face and I'll squash your nuts like concorde grapes. You've been around Dolly before she was Buronan; backstage, at opt in meetings, the many halls of the XWF, signings and such. Don't deny you've sensed her aura before. You then got intimate with _Buronan_ in promo. Deadpool and Deadshot, remember? You knew Dolly was Buronan. Period. That means you lied in your last promo playing it all: 'oh I didn't know specifically it was you Dolly, I didn't say that'...you know, more or less hanging your own tag partner out to dry." I level my right index fingertip at the lens. "Think before you speak, Stuporfriend. Right now it looks an awful lot like the adult black male superhero wrestler is afraid of the TWELVE YEAR OLD WHITE GIRL, gladly throwin' his partner under the bus to bob and weave her wrath." I jam my thumb into my chest. "I'm not roadkill though, Blax, that was a roadBLOCK the #75 Spineless Express just hit. It exploded. Many are still on fire, now go save the human bar-b-q you murdered and shut the fuck up while I deal with our opponents, k? No worries, I forgive you. From here on out we're going to be a cohesive unit until/IF we end up having to face eachother for the 24/7 briefcase, understand? THEN you can worry about the fact that if MY powers of observation and analysis can trump your Criptonian ass so easily in promo...how much higher a price will you pay for your underestimation of me in the ring as an opponent? I think maybe the Wrexus Plexus might Silence a Trap before Katabasis cracks a cornrowed crown.

Which reminds me by the way, Dolly...cornROWS. CORNROWS, like rows of corn you fucking idiot! How many times have you insulted my tag partner saying cornROLLS? You Pikeville pumpkinhead country bumpkin bitch, how much cred do you NOT have as a hick right now not knowing the term CORNROW? How the FUCK does Trax's hair look like corn _rolls_? Was Flora bathing in fuckin' moonshine when she was pregnant with you or did you get a mule kick to that mantis head of yours when she pooped you out? Wait a minute......" My eyes narrow and I adopt the look and tone of an upset, suspicious parent. "Are you smoking weed, young lady? Don't let me find out you are, I will _tan_ that hide and ground you for six months! Make you miss your whole summer break, how's that sound lil' missy? You're dumb _enough_, don't fuck that half a brain up any further during the developmental years! Criminy...your psycho sensei should've been collectin' brain cells for you instead of severed dicks for himself like the flacid-dildo-fetish havin' he must be. The more you run that mouth o' yours the less intelligent and more ineffectual you sound, slut.You can keep weakly thrashing around attempting to divert everyone's gaze from the ten car pile up that is now your position by focusing on futilely arguing with solid points I've made, it won't change a th-"

My rant is interrupted by a dialing chime and tone drone across the room.

"Fuck is that?"

My ZIC whispers to me from outta frame.

"Fax machine in corner."

My eyes widen in bewilderment. "I have a _fax_ machine here now?"

"Yes sir, the leader had it install and phone connection from mainland during you lunch picnic with him in jungle Thursday."

'Oh, that Kimmy is just the _sweetest_ man!'

The crew continues filming as I wander curiously over to the front corner to find not only the fax machine but a mint condish vintage 1976 standing Mickey Mouse corded phone.

I had one of these when I was five!

'That settles it, Kimbo is your soul mate, Jimbo.'

I pull the pages from the tray and read the cover page message. I hear Kim's voice in my head as I do so.

"Dear Jimbo,

That nasty lil' bitch at it agaaaaain. My homeboy Hillary Clinton send me spoiler email about XWF Dolly promo that air with exclusive footage only for official with security clearance. She try to make you look like liar to people. I send you confidential stenographer court transcript.

Love,
Kimbo

P.S. You sure you no want me kill her?

Passing the cover page around to the bottom of the pile, I scan through the transcript until I see what Kimmy was warning me about... I utter a derisive snort, crumble the lot and shove them into one of the inner facing dead wall chicks' mouths, the one who's face has been manipulated into a forever wide open mouth smile, left eye wink of "hey, big boy".

I stomp over to my skullkrete throne, grab my phone and access the official XWF site.

.............mmhm. Just as I thought.

I look back to the lens.

"Let it be known Dolly Waters is guilty of perjury. Dolly...you pussy ass sandbox special Betty cunt Crocker country cocksucker surprise...you're pathetic. Absolutely fucking pathetic. Such a fucking coward...you can't just own up to the big yet still _simple_ mistakes over dates and your accidentally mistaken own age? You edit after being called out? You continue to straight faced LIE and turn a small problem into a MASSIVE one? You're an INSPIRATION TO CHILDREN AND YOU LIE?? I was just gonna smack you around a bit correcting you on all your latest pointless insults and 'fallacies'...but now I'm gonna hafta straight murder your ass, ho.

Oh you were ACTUALLY born in 2003 and not 2004 now, huh? OH...was it a 'Paul Heyman mistake' or rather...so as not to offend your friend while you simultaneously fuck him over instead of owning up...'Paulie's _clerk_' who made the mistake you say? What, one of them wrote up your application for you AND turned it in without you checking your own info? Dude...seriously? You couldn't just say they fucked up your birth certificate? See...the whole problem with that is...it wasn't anyone but DOLLY WATERS who uploaded the application in question." I hold up my phone to the lens.



"See there? Does it say your application was filed by Paul Heyman? Why...no it doesn't, it says Dolly Waters. And you won't honestly have us all believe you're SO FUCKING STUPID that YOU YOURSELF DOLLY have gone SIX MONTHS without noticing such an egregious error on YOUR OWN BIRTHDATE would you!?? Who the FUCK do you think you're tryin' to fool here dipshit? Stop. Fucking. LYING. Jesus CHRIST, just fucking ADMIT IT!! You CAN'T can you!? You honestly cannot do it. You're the biggest coward in the littlest body I've ever fucking seen. The more you lie...the more it shows you aren't a heroine, you aren't a positive example for the fans, you aren't a Phenom...you're just a fraud. 'The Fraud' Dolly Waters.

Fuck you gonna do now? Present further convenient 'precedent' that just so happens to counter my absolute crushing of your weakass fibs again? Go back and edit tape again? You know...I'm starting to think maybe that whole doping scandal was proven false because the WHOLE THING WAS. YOU started the motherfucker as an EXCUSE, didn't you? YOU started it 'cause YOU couldn't handle the pressure you were facing any longer...and as you've already accidentally proven, you'll stoop to SWEEPING and in-depth creation of fantastical excuses before you'd ever consider just saying, 'Yeah, I lied. He got me' or 'Guys, while I AM an intimidating talent I'm also still just a 12 year old girl who now needs to take a breather for awhile', it's nauseating. To me, it's obvious...and now it is to everyone else as well. Dolly Waters is a cosplayin', editing, perjuring, fuckin' fraud and she doesn't have what it takes to truly go the distance in the XWF. She doesn't have the required respect.

What was it Boss Lane said when you went after the Heavy Metal Weight title last year? 'I thought you said the Heavy Metal Weight was beneath you?' You remember that, Dolls? Do you remember what you did to the Federweight Title while you held it at the same time as then XWF TV Champ? You dropped it in the worst way, pissin' on the legacy the XWF brass saw fit to create, pissin' everyone off and why? Because YOU couldn't handle defending it while having to defend the TV weekly. Fuckin' even lost the TV strap before holding it a full fuckin' month. Been paying attention to my career, Dolly? I've been successfully defending the TV strap since JANUARY. Every Savage, opting into every Warfare, the Anarchy revival, Lethal Lottery, the Federweight Scramble... Oh that's right, I didn't just win Mr. Feder's title in a one-on-one, it was against EIGHT other mouths and minds, BITCH...AS THE TELEVISION CHAMP! Have I dropped the Feder because I can't handle it like you couldn't? Fuck no, I even took it back the same fuckin' day Mini Morbid snuck it off my shoulder and CONTINUE to hold both the TV and Federweight titles to this day...because these championships, the honor they represent and the fucking XWF ITSELF deserve more than some über fake and arrogant lil' asshole like you as one of it's champions, Dolly, and that includes the prestige of the 24/7 briefcase.

You know...at first I thought you and your father were nothing alike but now I can see how similar you really are. I can see how desperately you wanna escape being nothing but the dullard dumbfuck dame you are...it's why you try so hard to copy my swag, sweetheart. You WANT me to be your new daddy, DON'T YOU!? Dolly failed test 'cause DADDY KNOWS BEST. Fuck your Battle Ode, write me a haiku, hooker. Keep takin' your cues from me like Cadryn always has. Keep lettin' me lead you around like I have been since my first response. Fuck Dolly Waters. I'm Jim Caedus. Reality. Truth. Pain. I'll be the one dustin' Cadryn and Dolly off my shoulders like dandruff before blowin' Trax up like Satchmo's motherfuckin' cheeks."
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