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Marf · (11-26-2022)

I can almost see it,
That dream I'm dreaming.
But there's a voice inside my head saying,
You'll never reach it.

Every step I'm taking,
Every move I make feels,
Lost with no direction.
My faith is shaking.
But I, I gotta keep trying,
Gotta keep my head held high.

There's always gonna be another mountain,
I'm always gonna wanna make it move.
Always gonna be an uphill battle,
Sometimes I'm gonna have to lose.
Ain't about how fast I get there,
Ain't about what's waiting on the other side.
It's the climb…

A raspy voice manages to cut through the static silence of Marf’s zoned out attention.

…ry Christmas…merry Christmas…kiss my ass…kiss his ass…kiss your ass…happy Ha…

Marf blinks a few times and looks around at the crowded bus shelter. A light snow has begrudgingly started to sprinkle down from the cloudy November evening. Marf grinds his teeth while eyeing all the Christmas shoppers like enemies. Like vultures swarming to pick scraps, these maggots known as human beings look back and forth sharply. Desperately trying to eye another Black Friday deal to rip from someone else’s hands. Tis the season and all that shit. An already crowded looking bus rolls up to the terminal and before Marf can even utter a simple fuck off, several people have begun to cram themselves into the cramped bus.

Fuck it, I’ll take a cab instead…

Despite muttering that to himself someone else pipes up.

Sorry, what was that my Yuletide brethren?

Marf slowly cocks his head in the direction of a man clearly plucked right out of an early 90s Sears catalogue. His lip curls into a snarl as he responds.

I said season’s greetings and go fuck yourself.

Marf stomps off from the bus stop before the stranger even has a chance to piss himself. Marf jogs over to a busier looking street and amazingly hails a cab over pretty quickly. He opens the door to the back seat before stopping and turning to look over at the bus stop and once more. He shakes his head and turns to get into the cab when he’s startled to find another larger man already in the back seat. With a big blue coat and shitty looking mustache he seems oddly familiar. Before Marf can say anything the cab drives off without him.

What the hell is this? Some Christmas scenarios bullshit?

Marf starts walking down the street to look for another cab. After only a few minutes a DeLorean suddenly pulls up and this adventure is quickly coming off the rails. A strange man that is either in his 50s or 80s hops out of the vehicle as Marf just stands there shaking his head.

Great Scott! Marfy, what in the name of Sir Isaac H Newton is happening here!?

Marf throws his hands up in frustration but calms his temptation to break into a wicked guitar solo.

Fuck sakes you’re a pay per view too late. What’s even going on?

Marfy you need to listen to me carefully! You’re not in your own world, but I can getcha back! You just have to…

He is literally cut short as an axe comes crashing down on top of his skull, nearly splitting it in half. The man from the DeLorean drops to the ground in a heap while Marf groans. A deranged man pulls the axe free before bringing it down on the poor, now dead guy. Blood and flesh splatters as the maniac looks up at Marf and smiles.

Heeeeeeere’s Johnny!

The man wrenches to free his axe while Marf just turns away in impatience.

Nope. Nothing about this makes any sense. As per fucking usual. I’m done with this nonsense. Where’s the part where I cut a promo? I don’t anymore of this bullshit nonsense. It’s not like anyone else actually pays attention to this shit anyways! Get me the fuck outta here…

Things all around Marf begin to blow up in slow motion as though he was in a Christopher Nolan film. Far too many movie themes are getting mixed together and this whole damn thing is collapsing on itself. Marf suddenly runs full tilt at a wall and disappears into it. We don’t even know if that’s a Harry Potter reference or not but it’s time to end this shit before anything else is mixed in. If you’ve come this far you deserve a fuckin’ medal.

Thankfully all of the nonsensical scenery fades off which brings us to our most important part!

Promo Times!

Well let’s start this off the proper way and offer up a tremendous fuck you to the one and hopefully only, Micheal Graves! For whatever reason, you stuck your crooked nose into my business, blinded me and cost me not just the match but my Xtreme title. Whatever point you were trying to prove failed miserably much like your career. I hope that twatboy Mark Flynn does to you what he couldn’t do to me and puts you down permanently. Until then, I guess I owe ya one, buddy.

Might wanna invest in some nifty fuckin’ goggles…

Marf gives one of his more polite snarls and cracks his knuckles before moving on.

With that out of the way, I’d like to take a moment to send out a more, sentimental fuck you to that sultry, hairless slut known as Jenny Myst. You, along with quite a bit of help, got one over on me. Well done. I see you’re very proud of what you’re calling your win. Flynn carried your ass through that match and it still took some Gravey fuckery to ensure you stole the victory. It’s actually fuckin’ pathetic that you’re gloating about it but if that’s your flex, have at it bridge troll. Just remember one thing though, Jen.

And right on cue, Marf leans way in for this.

This isn’t over and everything that happens from here on out is solely your fault, Jenny...

Marf stares menacingly into the camera for a moment before suddenly jumping back and shooting his arms out to the sides.

Back to our regularly scheduled program! Isiah, what the fuck is up bro!? Looks like I owe you an introductory faaaack you it seems! You have been around for a hot minute and already claimed a television title, nice job. Granted it was in the middle of that title bouncing from body to body each week but kudos to you good sir. At least you haven’t dropped it already. No, your failure needs to be on more of a grand stage. We’re going to have the entire world watch as you fall from your imaginary throne.

Marf makes a crash and burn motion with his hands while whistling.

I am going to take a minute to level with you though, Isaiah. That television title you’re grasping onto so proudly? I don’t want it right now. I have no interest in that title or in you. It just so happens that management loves throwing me into title match after title match. People might not admit they like ole Marfy but they’ll pay an arm and a leg to watch me inflict several different kinds of pain on this roster. Ya know, I’ve seen you ‘round these parts, talking about thrones and shit. Listen, I didn’t care for game of thrones. I thought it was an over rated pile of shit, not far off from you funny enough. So I’m not here to play in your game, I’m far too busy with my own. Perhaps you have already seen it but doubtful if you actually understood.

Marf takes a moment and mimes swinging a weapon of some sort. The way his hands are positioned, our guess would be a delightful steel folding chair.

You see Isaiah, there’s not much for us to really talk about here. You’re going to earn the victory at Bad Medicine because I don’t care for you. I’ve got someone special waiting for me. Maybe they don’t realize it, but as the game plays out they will. A loss over you doesn’t change any of the not so pleasant things I intend on doing over the next little while. Nothing you do will change the future I have planned. Just hug that title close and keep holding onto that fantasy about getting pegged by a dragon or some shit…

…but don’t you think it will be an easy victory.

Marf leans back and smiles far too wide even Richard Ramirez would get chills.

I may not intend to scrape by with a win over you, Isaiah…but that don’t mean I’m not intending on hurting you. It certainly doesn’t mean I have no intentions on making you bleed on that grand stage. We’ll paint the town red with one another’s blood at Bad Medicine. Just like those that have come before you, Isaiah, you will not be the same after entering the ring against Marf. Whether you under estimate me or over value me, none of it fuckin’ matters you dollar store Ahmed Johnson.

When you go to battle with me, the one and motherfuckin’ only Marf, there’s no walking away unscathed. Make your jokes, talk your shit, and cherish your remaining hours with a full mouth of teeth still. Soon we go to war. And I truly have nothing to lose my new friend. I will do whatever the fuck I feel like to you. Good luck raising the title or even standing up once I’m through with your sorry ass. Hmm, it actually just sucks being you right now, doesn’t it?

You lose, and it is bye bye title for you. A fall from your shit stained throne.

You win, and whatever is left of your broken carcass with be picked apart by the scavengers. Before you know it Big Preesh is waddling off with your title while farting your theme song. Not a whole helluva lot to brag about eh?

Marf leans in one last time for effect while still grinning like a maniac.

So, no matter what transpires at Bad Medicine, Isaiah…

…you lose!

And with that we fade to that comforting black darkness. Fuck you very much and goodnight!

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