A Few Months Ago…(but not really)

We open tight on Corey Smith’s face. But it’s not quite Corey, as clearly he’s gotten the XWF’s make-up department to do his bidding again. Corey’s hair is a slicked back sheen coated in excess amounts of hair gel. His face has been touched up to have an eerie pallor, and his eyes are now filled out with blood red contact lenses. You can just barely make out that he’s wearing some kind of amulet around his neck, it looks like tacky costume jewelery.

Corey breathes in, creating a melodramatic hissing sound, before flashing the camera his most sadistic….errr, DIABOLICAL smile.

Greetings, servants of the night. It is I, vassal of evil, and leader of the Left Hand….BAMFLOMINT! And I am here to speak wicked nothings into your ear. Or destroy you! Depending on how bad my IBS of Darkness is acting up today.

Ah ha HEM!

The view quickly cuts to Dolly Waters, except once again, not quite. She has lime green streaks in her hair now, and skull earrings pull at her ear lobes. Naturally, her lips are lacquered black as well. Less expected is the fact that she’s wearing a shirt with the Spencer’s logo on it. She silently taps a name tag adhered to her shirt.

We cut back to the Babblemint, whose mouth rounds in an “o” of sudden understanding. He too is wearing a shirt with the Spencer’s logo, as well as some generic slightly wrinkled khaki’s like you would see an uncaring 15 year old slip on at the last minute before being hauled out to Sunday brunch with grandma. Blamboozle rustles around in his pocket before affixing his name tag to his shirt. His tag identifies him as the Store Manager.

It’s a good thing regional wasn’t here. They woulda flipped!

You are quite correct. Not wearing name tags is one of Mr. Stromwart’s pet peeves. Bismodent then clears his throat, injecting some of that earlier villianous swagger into it, before casting his arms out wide. BEHOLD!



The fiendish lair from which The Left Hand crafts their demonic plots and half assed Youtube videos. Merry Christmas….FROM THE DARK SIDE! BWAHAHAHAHA! Bafflegab tosses his head back and cackles maliciously. Mid cackle, he sneaks a look at Dolly who smacks her gum and mostly just looks bored. He clears his throat again, regaining control of himself with a pinched awkward expression.

Look man, we gotta do Fall inventory and put all these half off stickers on this list of sale items by the end of the day. Maybe we should get to work? She holds up a sticker gun, clacking the trigger a couple times for good measure.

Bammerbot scowls at her. Oh Dolly! Must you be so mundane?! I’m very, very busy!

Fine, whatever. I’ll be over there discounting all those edible thongs and novelty shot glasses.

Dolly walks off camera. Baggagesmasher props his hands up on the table, doing his best to feign an imperious air as he once again addresses the camera. XWF, I realize we haven’t gotten to know each other that well yet. But we will...oh, how we will. Because before you know it, you’ll be so ensnared in my Games of Death, that it will be far too late to extricate yourselves. For I bring with me the very word of DEATH! Everything that is vile and grimmy dark about this infested world is…..

Uh, hey man.

A skinny black teenager wearing a Naruto t-shirt has walked up to the counter. Ballambangjang looks annoyed, but somehow manages to paste on a gracious smile that’s more unnerving than welcoming.

So, do you have, like, Pickle Rick plushies?

Pickle….Rick?

Yeah, you know, from Rick and Morty. The kid snaps his arms to his sides and appears to tense up his body, imitating a pickle. ”I’m Pickle Riiiiiiick!” The kid does a terrible impression of the voice, but it’s unlikely that Backpiece would have noticed anyway.

Finally, a rescuing voice calls out. They’re back and to your left, next to the Adventure Time merch and Harley Quinn wallets.

Oh word, you got Harley Quinn wallets! The kid wanders out of the shot, and Baculum watches him go, the annoyed look creeping back as soon as the customer’s back is turned.

As I was saying before we were so rudely interrupted….the XWF has no idea how many levels of HELL The Left Hand will drag it through. Those who do not pledge fealty to the Hand will have their wills broken and souls devoured!

The boy’s voice cuts in from off camera. Like Tsang Tsung?!

”YOUR SOUL IS MINE!”

Oh ho, that was pretty good!

It WAS pretty good.

Would you both PLEASE…? I am trying to instill a sense of awe and terror! Ballistophobia cuts his hand in a chopping motion towards the camera. And I can’t very well do that with all this YAMMERING!

Dolly reenters the scene, tagging a package of edible panties before tossing them onto the counter, then casually leaning up against it and crossing her arms. I think you’re doing this all wrong.

Baclofen reels a bit, looking insulted. Oh, and how pray tell SHOULD I be doing this?

Dolly crosses her arms and lets out a small sigh, as though she’s mentally preparing herself to debate a toddler. Look, this whole Left Hand thing? It’s SO telegraphed. The moment you set foot in the XWF, everything you say and do is going to scream “cult”, and the only recruits you’re ever going to get are going to be the most bottom of the barrel gibbering idiots.

Not only that, but it’s so played out. The stilted talk, all the cliches…..you’re like an episode of Dark Shadows run through a shit filter. It’s just all….so...dumb!

But it doesn’t have to be! You can take the well worn demonic cult dealio and put your own fresh, unique spin on it! Of course, it’ll take time, effort, and more than a modicum of mental energy, but you don’t have to be just another rote, uninspired gimmick that tries desperately to get itself over via relentless exposure rather than actual, honest to 666, innovation! You see what I mean?

Dolly considers Bamblustercated with a critical eye, waiting on his response. And the man does seem to be deep in thought, caressing his chin and “hmmmm”ing audibly. Finally, he snaps his fingers and exclaims, I’ve got it!

You see my point then?

He does a double take. Oh, you were talking?

Dolly throws her hands in the air and scowls, but Beef-witted doesn’t even seem to notice her consternation.

Yes, I know EXACTLY how The Left Hand will get the attention it deserves. He looks right at the camera. HOT CHICKS WITH BIG TITS!

That’s not at all what I was saying.

Too late, we’re already skipping ahead.

Two SPOOKY weeks later…

We return to the Spencers of Doom, where Blowsabella is seated in front of a wall of cheap foreign made sex toys. A clip board is in his lap, and he’s looking officiously at something just off camera through black sunglasses that are resting near the tip of his nose. Dolly is standing just behind him, looking disgusted.

I really don’t want to be here.

But I need a woman’s perspective!

She scoffs. That’s not really what you want.

He turns away from Dolly disdainfully.

Well, at any rate, congratulations ladies for making it to the final stage of consideration! You’ve both done remarkably well thus far in the “running on a treadmill in a sportsbra stage” and the “hopping up and down stage”, but this will be your greatest challenge yet. Ash Quinn, are you ready?



Mmmmmm….absolutely, sir.

Excellent! Lycana, are you ready?



I was unborn ready.

Ohhhhh! Good one! I liked that one! Okay! So, you both must tell me why YOU will be the evilest, hottest little minx to grace the XWF. B-Cup, show me what you’re made of!



You got it, master. *clears throat* I hurt myself today, to see if I still feel. I focus on the pain, the only thing that’s real. The needle tears a hole, the old familiar sting, try to kill it all away, but I remember….everything.

Bullsquitter looks absolutely enrapt, but Dolly’s disgusted expression seems to have kicked up a few more clicks.

Beautiful! What an absolute symphony of dark pathos! What a…

It’s just the fucking lyrics to a Johnny Cash cover song! Dolly explodes, gesticulating at the pairs of tits off screen.




Uhhhh, shows what you know, Uggo. It’s actually lyrics from a Trent Reznor song.

But of course you would pick the inferior version. This blows, I’m out. Dolly walks off camera, and Bum-Curtain watches her go, looking slightly dismayed.

Well, I don’t know what crawled up her ass. Nevermind her! Elvira’s Assets, do it to it!



Uhhhh….well….I guess I wasn’t very well prepared for this….

Oh nonsense! Just bring forth what lies in the ebon abyss you call a soul!



Um, okay. Here it goes. Uhhhhh…..bats, haunted house, worms….these are a few of my FAV-O-RITE things…..*nervous cough*.....shit.....

Uhhhhhh…oh hey! Like, remember that scene from the Neverending Story where, like, the horse gets eaten by the swamp? And the boy is, like, really sad because the horse is dying? I’m basically that, except I can do this.

Lycana starts jumping up and down, causing her pale bossoms to heave like fleshy pendulums.

Whoa! AHHH---OOOOOO---GAH! He actually takes his sunglasses off and wavers them back and forth in front of his face to mimic his eyes bugging out.



WHAT?! This is bullshit! We already did the jumping up and down part!

Botulism chuckles and claps his hands together, leaning back in his chair and making a “simmer down now” gesture. Ladies, ladies! Don’t fret! You’re BOTH going to be inducted into The Left Hand! Congratulations!

Another voice calls out from off camera. It sounds monotone and disinterested, and carries an obnoxious amount of vocal fry.



Hey, it’s me, Geri. I’d be pretty stoked if I could join The Left Hand too.

She sounds absolutely dead inside. The leader of the Left Hand appaises her with a withering stare. Ehhhhh…...I dont know. Why do you always wear such baggy clothing? He pauses as an internal debate wages. Maybe you can join, but you gotta show us the boobs.

Okay.

From off camera, we hear the vague sounds of disrobing, and then…..OH SWEET BABY JESUS ON A UNICYCLE NO!





We drop back to reality at La Casa Del Corey. Just as the image blanks from the screen, Corey turns towards Dolly and commune resident and involuntary promo judger Ronnie with an expectant gleam in his eyes.

Ehhhhh? EHHHHHHHH?!

Ronnie blinks a few times in rapid succession. Welll….first off, it was….juvenile…..

Ya huh.

....gross…..

Ya huh.

....kinda sexist, really….

Ya huh.

Ronnie smiles despite herself. .....but also pretty funny.

YESSSSS! Corey pumps his fists in the air. However, when Dolly doesn’t respond, Corey turns to consider her. She’s been watching something on her cell phone the whole time. What’re you watchin’?

Dolly peaks her eyebrows, not shifting her attention away from whatever’s on the screen. So, you know that guy you’re teaming with? R. L. Edgar?

Yeah.

I’ve been watching some clips of his old matches and, he, uhhhhh, looks a little rough.

Corey pulls on that confident half smile he’s known for. It can’t be that bad. He just won a match.

Dolly holds the phone out so both he and Ronnie can see. Corey grimaces. Ronnie looks confused….and then also grimaces.

I don’t know much about wrestling, but that looks pretty bad.

Corey seems abruptly exasperated, and runs a hand through his hair. How do you do a hiptoss on somebody and end up almost giving yourself a piledriver?! Corey whistles. Yeah...we’re….yeah. He’s speechless. A rarity.

Dolly brings the phone back in, closing out of the video stream. Well, hey. You know what? I kind of have a good feeling about the guy. I think with a little bit of spit and polish, he’ll be a hell of a partner.

And you’re basing this on what exactly?

Dolly coils a fist up next to her stomach and pats it. Call it a gut feeling. I feel like I’ve got some kind of, I don’t know, intrinsic connection to the guy! I think it’ll be fine.

Ronnie shrugs unconvincingly, but doesn’t offer up any more input. Corey, looking equally as unconvinced, nonetheless decides not to add more negativity to the pot.

Looks like I’m gonna have to head overseas a bit sooner than I thought. Dolly, you got the reins here while I’m gone?

She salutes smartly. I got you.

Good! One less thing on my plate. I’m gonna go get things in order. A slightly rattled Corey Smith turns away from his friends, offering them a feeble wave as he goes.

Think happy thoughts! Ronnie calls out after him.

A Little Later….

Our intrepid hero ducks beneath the sagging branches of a Weeping Willow tree, coming out near a small pond on the back of his property. The sun catches off the water, illuminating it, as small fish create gentle rivulets in the otherwise serene surface.

Near the water, a lean figure is seen. Clad in just a pair of sweatpants, he moves rhythmically, dancing as though nobody’s watching. Truly, he has given himself over to the music in his head, as his expression is as serene as the water. Taut muscles roll beneath the gentle spray of freckles on his chest and back, crafting a display that is at once harmonious and oddly moving.

Corey can’t help but stand quietly and watch. It occurs to him to call out rather than continue to idle like a silent shadow, but Christian seemed so at peace with himself it seemed almost a crime to interrupt. But as he completes a sensuous turn, the left side of his torso is exposed. Running from beneath Christian’s under arm nearly to his waistband is a wicked, jagged scar, like a thunder strike of ruined tissue. Corey nearly allows himself a gasp at the sight of it.

Christian dips low to the ground, lithe body doubling over at the waist and finger tips kissing the grass as he comes to a sort of denouement. Before the young man even looks up, he speaks. Did you like it?

Corey jolts, flushing with embarrassment. He chuckles a bit. You’re really talented. You never said you could dance.

Christian stands up fully, flexing his shoulders as he does so to work out a crick. You never asked. He reaches down and snags a waiting water bottle and takes a swig.

I guess I didn’t. Corey’s mind has to work a bit to retrieve the reason he sought Christian out in the first place. But hey man, it turns out I’m going to have to leave a little earlier than expected. I just wanted to let you know I talked to Officer Nealy this morning. She seems cool with letting you stay here for now. She didn’t understand what the hell this was at first, but I think I sold it well enough.

Christian’s expression is inscrutible, but not unfriendly. Not like I have too many other options. He pops the lid back on the water bottle and gestures at Corey with it. You know, I did street magic too.

Really? Like “pick a card, any card”?

I put my own spin on it. Sexed it up a bit. His eyes briefly cast out over the water. I’m a performer. Born and raised.

You ever thought about a career in wrestling?

He turns back towards Corey with a droll little smile. I’m a lover, not a fighter, Smith. He pauses a moment. You didn’t ask about the scar.

I thought it would be rude.

It IS rude. But that still doesn’t stop most people.

You tend to keep things pretty close to the chest, Christian. I’d like to respect your privacy.

The other doesn’t respond at first, but something in his expression softens. He looks down at the ground again before responding. Car accident.

Corey nodded. The way Christian said it, it was clear that those two words were doing a lot of work. There’s was more to it, probably quite a bit more. But Christian was not the type to welcome candid inquiries. I’m sorry. Corey offered simply, but genuinely.

Christian gave a slight shrug and looked up once more, a not quite convincing smile lived there now. They happen everyday.

Yours didn’t. Corey mentally added, but kept it to himself. So you still gonna be here when I get back?

Probably. Like I said, not too many other options right now. And even if there were, I’d be a fool to trade down. He gestures in Corey’s direction with a slight nod. Italy again?

Yeah. Inwardly, Corey was a bit surprised Christian was following along that closely.

Le cose belle arrivano quando non le cerchi. He nails the inflection.

Corey gives a brief, but sincere applause while wearing a wide smile. You are just full of surprises!

Christian looks sheepish. I know a few lines for when I wanna showboat, but that’s it.

What’s it mean?

“Beautiful things come when you’re not looking.”

Huh.

Still later….

Corey is back inside, hastily moving about in his bedroom. He goes to his closet, pulling out clothes, folding them none too neatly, and piling them atop an existing hill of clothes already in his luggage. He takes a step back to consider the situation, cocking his head at the luggage sitting atop his bed.

That’ll work, right? He asks himself. He then flips the cover over on the luggage, and jumps atop it, planting his rear on the leather case and trying to mash it shut. He starts to work at the zipper and talk at the same time.

Much like this suitcase, you Lefty dickheads are in for a world of hurt.

Corey grunts as he finally manages to pull the zipper across. Task complete, he dangles his feet off the side of the bed and proceeds. But UNLIKE this suitcase, you will not be filled with incredibly stylish streetwear, ring gear, or Mr. Baxter. Corey blinks. He’s my teddy. He goes with me everywhere.

No! You guys will be filled with the kind of shame that only a well earned beatdown and the forced consumption of your own words can bring. You see, I’m takin’ this one personal. Because this Left Hand business hits pretty close to home for yours truly. It wasn’t that long ago that I was forced to be an awful lot like you guys. Vengeful. Nihilistic. Tedious. I know it well.

In fact, I know it SO well, that I know what you guys really are. Because beneath all the costume jewelry trappings and mustache twirling wickedry and blood sacrificing…

….you’re really just a different flavor of asshole. School yard bullies shoring up in numbers to stake out your territory. Going after people you deem weaker than you. Which, says a whole HELL of a lot about why Baphomet wants nothing to do with ME.

Yeah, the Left Hand is just a Halloween Party for garden variety douchebags. And that little skit at the start? Ohhhhh baby, I’m just gettin’ rollin’. He rubs his hands together. Guys, I’m gonna tear you apart before you even set foot in that ring. I’m gonna run your credibility through the ringer, squeeeeeeze out all that icky black juice, and leave you standing in a broke down, humiliated pile of yourselves.

Oh, and on the off chance you DO decide to escalate things and bring Marf, or Geri, or hell maybe even Baphomet (if his bladder holds) down to the ring to fuck with me and E.L? Heh, well, I might be a decent guy now, but I remember what it’s like to get real dirty too. Corey’s face hardens. You think you got the numbers, but you don’t. You really don’t.

You will never have enough.

But if you wanna bring it there, I will meet you. With open arms. And many, many, friends at my back.

Got it?

He nods, still retaining that same stony expression. Finally, he looks down, taking the measure of the suitcase he was sitting on. Corey starts to carefully slide off the top of it, and when he has fully extricated himself, he runs a hand across his brow and let’s out a sigh of relief.

Naturally, he turns back around just as the zipper pops and the luggage springs open, vomiting clothes all over the bed.

Fuck. He scowls at the mess. You just couldn’t let me go out on the badass note, could you?

Womp womp.