"OH YOU MOTHER-FUCKERS!"

Stockton, California

Uh oh. Nothing like opening the scene with a man with a serious problem with indoor voices. We hear the sexy vocal chords of Mickey Kinkade go to work as he sits in his kitchen, having just tossed his phone over his back and onto the kitchen floor, with the sounds of glass cracking. He sighed in regret as he rested his head on his hand, looking down at the table in front of him.

"First my weirdo-stalker Dean Rose sexually assaults me by unconsensually pushing me over the top rope at March Madness, and now those micro-dicked dweebs can't even spell my name right! Mickey KinCAID? Suck my KinKOCK you illiterate FUCKS!"

It was a sad, sad day to be The Kink. Not only was he bested by Dean Rose, but the dread of having his name mispelled haunted him. But a-las, his day was not ruined, as his tired hook up from last night walked into the room. Her face showed the effects of the rough smackdown Mickey brought last night with his companion's dick, with make smeared on her lips, and her hair was frizzled up. Poor girl.

"Hey uh... you seem, down... anyway, can I get my-"

"I'm always up in my pants babe, but these cock suckers at work can't spell my name right. Like, c'mon, I'm THE big deal of the company! These ugly bitches worship the ground under my feet, and they don't have the decencey to recognize me!"

The clueless hook up stood there blankly, yawning as she scratched her head in confusion. Mickey stood up, with a well-placed set of pickles on the table covering his schwing as he walked towards the window.

"Yet that dope smoking fiend Chris Page gets his name printed on the fine print just perfect! The nerve!"

"I don't even know what you do. Can you pay me now?"

Mickey turned his head to the side with a frown.

"It's like you don't even listen to me anymore."

Silence. Ironic, awkward, silence. Mickey reached over on top of the fridge and handed his, friend, the jar full of cash.

"Just take this you greedy bitch."

She took the money and waddled out of frame, with Mickey sighing as he looked towards the outside.

"Fuckin' Chris Page... fuck. Maybe the big wigs booking these shows have a brain. Figures a stoner's got a title around his fat gut. Only thing he can smoke on is my fat dick. Shit though... if I beat him, that's just going to shoot me up the ranks. Might as well as give me the belt right now."

He put his finger on his chin as he thought some more.

"Hmph. Mickey Kinkade... Universal Champion. Has a nice ring to it. The Universe's Sexiest Bitch! It's a story that'll be told for ages! When I eventually get that belt, I'm gonna get rid of that ugly design and have a picture of my DICK on it! HA! FUCK I'M GOOD!"

He clapped his hands and walked out of the kitchen, looking to get his phone to get the production team on this GREAT idea asap! His eyes turned to the living room, where there laid two sleeping beauties, causing Mickey to freeze in place.

"Who the FUCK are you two pretty bitches?!"

There was some moans and groans as one of the women opened their eyes.

"Papi?"

"Fuckin', get outta here. Move. MOVE."

The two naked women gathered their clothes and slowly walked away, with Mickey putting his hands on his face, trying to remember last night. Clearly, alcohol was involved. He looks behind him only too see a slender looking man in his briefs, dropping a cut out of Thaddeus Duke's face, with a hole carved out in it.

"...I don't even want to know."

A Few Hours Later...

Los Angeles, California

Desperate times call for desperate measures. We see The Kink himself standing outside a decent sized mansion, wearing a look of dread on his face as he stood in the chilly afternoon weather in LA. He looked at the door-knob, which was a pair of golden balls. Kinkade raised his eye-brows, impressed with this. He a cup at them and knocked on the door, with no one answering. After a solid minute, Kinkade sighed.

"Fuck this."

Just as he gets ready to turn around, the door is opened by an... interesting fellow.

"Ooooo~. Mickey baybee, whatcha doin' out here?"

This was his step-father, the one and only Judy Flower. He puckered his black painted lips into a curl, looking down his step-son with a raised eye-brow. Mickey looked disgusted, reminded of the odd event at the beginning of his morning.

"Look you Frankenfurtfuck, you can fuck my dad all you want, but you stay away from me. Where's pops?"

"Hmph, you tease. He's in the dining room."

Judy walked back inside with a sway of the hips, causing Mickey to roll his eyes as he gets in. The warm house looked even bigger from the inside.

"...Can't wait for that old sonuvabitch to keel over so I can get this place."

He day-dreamed a bit, thinking of the BITCHIN' adjustments he could make to this crib. A-las, he came here for business, not pleasure, as he walked into the dining room. Inside, he saw a dashing man sitting back in a comfortable recliner, with his legs propped up and a phone in his hands. This was the man who shot his baby-goo into an ex-wife to birth The Kink. It was John Kinkade! He looked over at his son and sighed, dropping his phone on his lap as he put down the leg of the recliner.

"Eh... hey sport."

"Hey you old cunt."

"Shut up and tell me what'cha want kid. Chris Page scare you off already?"

Mickey blew a breath of air out of the side of his mouth and crossed his arms.

"Fuck no."

Mickey turned his head a bit, Chris Page was fat, but damn is he a good champion.

"Uh huh... so what brings you to papa?"

"Well..."

John raised an eye-brow as a sly smirk creeped up on his face.

"I just..."

"Go ooooon."

Kinkade needed a minute, but the sight of John turning his head to try and hear him was enough to get a reaction.

"I NEED ADVICE, OK?"

"AH-HAH! You never want my advice you lil' shit!"

He clapped and stood up, doing a little jig with his boxer briefs.

"I'll drop you so fast they'll think you had a heart attack. You gonna be a douche or help your kid?"

John let out a soft-laugh, sighing at the end as he kept a wholesome smile on his face.

"Whew... 30 years, and you finally need the original Kink to tell ya how to get the job done."

Mickey knew this was a mistake, but he was in too deep, taking a seat oppisite of John, who sat in his chair with a leg crossed over his knee. His expression was much more sincere.

"It's just, this shit's happening again where I'm losing. Sure, I've gotten some of the hottest ring rats you could imagine, but people are only going to talk about me getting thrown out by shit-for-brains in the second chance battle royal. "

"Mhm... so, what, they're just throwin' you a bone here? Hopin' you stick your lil' pecker out for the chance Chris Page gets a nip on it?"

By the way these two talk, it's no clue that they're the same flesh-and-blood. Mickey sat for a moment in silence.

"I dunno. Feels like they're mocking me. You see what they did to my God damn name?"

"Our, God damn name, son."

"Yeah, whatever. But the point is, I have no idea what to do against this fat-fuck. He's beaten everyone that's tried messing with him. I can call him a bitch, a fat stack of shit, the white Lizzo, but that's not gonna do anything for me. I... I dunno."

There was silence. Serious silence. Something no one would think could happen when two Kinkades were in the same room. Mickeys eyes were drawn to the red carpet, before looking up at his father, who was grinning ear to ear.

"No wonder mom left you you unhelpful boomer."

"I can NOT help myself! But alright, alright... let's get serious."

Mickey sighed.

"Now... believe me, I know what you're feelin'. I felt that exact same way years ago when I was in the "wrasslin" business. I've faced world champs, lost to 'em, and got back on the horse. But y'know what I thought each time?"

"What?"

"...That they were just better that day."

Woah, deep shit.

"...Well, fuck that! That advice sucks!"

"Not as much as you do Mickey Mouse! You. Ain't. SHIT! But you can be shit, you can be the golden brick in the 207 pounds of fresh shit. And THAT attitude is what's gonna bring you to the top."

"I'm always toppin'!"

"As any proud Kinkade would! But my point is, Chris Page can be better then you on any given night, and vice versa. You beatin' him wouldn't be the weirdest thing I've seen."

Just then, Judy Flowers peaked his head in. The one on his shoulders, you pervert.

"Would you two hunks like a sandwhich? I can be in the middle~"

Mickey turned his head.

"FUCK OFF ALREADY."

Poor Judy, the man's bottom lip puckered as he slinked away, with Mickey looking back at his father with an ironic expression.

"I fuck weirder things then the idea of you, winnin'. But you get my point, if you think my advice sucks, then go out and be the guy you know you can be. I dunno, I can go on all of that Rocky Balboa type shit if you want."

The 2nd Generation Kink processed the advice and shrugged.

"Eh, think I've gotten what I came for."

Mickey stands up, wanting to blow this popsicle stand.

"There's two very important words I want to hear."

Mickey turns around, seeing John have his hands over the back of his head. Mickey knows the exact two words he means.



"Your welcome. Now go beat that stoner's head in and get the name Kinkade back for daddy, eh?"

With that, Mickey smiled a bit, walking out of frame as the scene fades elsewhere.

The Following Day...



It was a nice enough day for Mickey to take a drive in the west-side of Hollywood. It was fitting for Frankie Goes To Hollywood's "Relax" to be playing on the radio, with Mickey mouthing along to the lyrics of this innuendo filled song. As he took a soft right, he reached over to the dial and turned it down, before picking up his phone and pressing a few buttons to set-up a call. Fuck what the law says, The Kink can handle being on his phone and driving at the same time!

"Hello! X-Treme Wrestling Federation speaking!"

Mickey's eyebrows perked up hearing the petite voice of the assistant on the other line.

"Well helloooooo BEAUTIFUL! What ARE your pronouns?"

It's a new age folks! To pick up the finest babes, ya gotta adapt!

"Uh... she and her... sir, this is a business hotline."

"Psh, toots, you're talkin' to the man who mixes pleasure and business AND pleasure! Mickey Kinkade! I work for you guys!"

"Oh... you... how can I help you today Mr. Kinkade."

"Please, Mr. Kinkade's my bitch-ass dad's name. You can just call me Big Dick Mick, and can help me get off with a lil' bit of the Double Handed Gawk Gawk 3000!"

"..."

"ANYWHO! I really called to ask about about two things. Firstly, can I get the number of Chris Page?"

"We're not at liberty to hand out private information of our employees."

"Uh huh, thought you'd say that. Can you at least forward a voice mail?"

"I, guess? Sure. Sure... here, I'm recording it now, just let me know when you're finished and want me to send it."

"Thanks mama-cita!"

There's some silence, before Kinkade takes a breath, and speaks into the phone.

"Hey Chris Page! This is Mickey Kinkade! Y'know, the guy you're losing too at this upcoming Warfare, heh. Just wanted to say I'm a big, BIG fan of what you've done since you've won the XWF Universal Title. Really, props to you big man. And that's not a fat joke! I mean it. You've really gone and out did yourself since winning the big one. You've added yet another huge title to your collection. I still remember seeing you compete for the WGWF, man, those were the days. You use to look like a wrestler instead of Kevin James, but anyway, you should know that in my eyes, you are the definition of a champion... a fucking TERRIBLE ONE!"

Swerve! Almost literally too on the road!

"I'll be honest, I don't give a fuck about you or anything you've done. It's not that I'm ignorant to your success, but man, it's like thinking of an old cum stain. It must've been fun at the time, but now it's just fucking annoying to wash out. Multiple Hall of Fame inductions, so many title reigns, and it all amounts to zero fucks given by yours truely. Hurts, doesn't it? Sure, you're probably brushing off what I'm saying, or hell you might've stopped listening because you can't handle the truth, but regardless, you're nothing more then my meal ticket to stardom in the XWF."

A pretty BIG, ROUND, FAT meal ticket at that!

"See, it's just how this food chain works for the younger, much sexier superstar to kick your ass off of the throne. Years ago, you in the same spot as I am elsewhere. You know that, and that's why you're too much of a pussy to put the title on the line against me. It's smart, but fuck you. I'd be a fighting champ if I had that title in my hands... scratch that, WHEN, I get my hands on it in the near future. You should know when your time's passed instead of sucking on the fat schlong of father time, hoping that you'll still be relevent this time next week. Like putting down Old Yeller, this is just a mercy killing for a useless mutt when I pin your shoulders for the 1-2-3. But hey, just to comfort you, you should be proud that you're losing to me! I'm giving you a mouth full of The Kink, which 9/10 doctors recommend!"

Hard to argue with that fact jack!

"As far as your fuck buddies in BoB, they can all go fuck themselves. This is a one on one butt fuckin' that's gonna take place, and if any of those ugly bitches try and interfere, I'll slap them so hard with my Shaq Sized Dick they'll get a concussion from the impact of it. Fuck Robert Main too, I'm the guy you need to be worried about, not him. I'm the sexy bitch that's going to pull of the "upset" win. I get that in your mind you may think I'm just some new kid off the block that can't get the job done, but that's what's going to fuck you over big-time. No one's going to remember me getting thrown out in the Second Chance Battle Royal, but they WILL remember the day Mickey Kinkade beat Chris Page. Like you said when you first got here... that's not a prediction, it's a spoiler... a sexy one at that. See you at Warfare, bitch."

There's some silence as Kinkade lets out a breath of relief.

"Send it toots."

"Alright... no gurantee Mr. Page will get this but, I'll send it in. Thanks for calling u-"

"I still had one more question."

"What?"

"WHY THE FUCK IS MY NAME SPELLED K-I-N-C-A-I-D GOD DAMN IT!?"

Those DAMN typos! A-las, the scene fades to black as Kinkade rides off into the sunset.

Overall W/L/D Record: 1-2-0
XWF W/L/D Record: 1-2-0
Last Match: vs. Ash Quinn in an Xtreme Rules Match (Warfare)
Upcoming Match(s): vs. King Doc Battle Royal (MAYDAY! At Ye' Ole' Commune!), vs. Jordan Knoxville (Warfare)
Titles Currently Holding: N/A
Titles Held: N/A
Accomplishments: 1x Quote Of The Moment (3/13/21), Told Chris Page to Suck My Dick (4/7/21)