Less than two weeks ago, television and internet-streaming audiences from around the world tuned in with wonder and excitement to view the XWF’s annual May 4th spectacular. A Star Wars themed professional wrestling show that blends the hard-hitting world of combat athletics with that of George Lucas’ sci-fi brainchild classic.

Streaming live from the “Death Star II” (a dilapidated and low budget Hollywood studio), the program was packed with riveting, awe-inspiring contests. Contests featuring world class athletes, all paying homage in their own unique, and occasionally deranged ways, to perhaps the most celebrated science-fiction series of all time… but there came a moment when the fanfare devolved from space -fantasy into horror.

One of the most highly anticipated bouts of the evening featured the newly minted Television Champion, Jason Cashe, defending his title against the XWF veteran Dolly Waters inside of the “Death Star II’s' ' garbage compactor. Both competitors wowed audiences with their thoughtful, and determined hype-vignettes leading up to the contests, leaving fans salivating over the potential of this matchup.

But the events that transpired instead left them mortified.

The match was over before it began as the unforgiving steel walls of the trash compactor moved to the sound of their ominous gears, closing together, and apparently crushing Dolly Waters to death on live television. Her assumed shrieks and cries for mercy being smothered underneath the countless pounds of space-garbage shed slipped beneath. A freak accident rivaled by nothing like these audiences had experienced before.

But, disturbing and ambiguous as the outcome was, this was professional wrestling, and the show must go on! Dolly Waters, despite the XWF’s gross negligence leading to her premature and horrifying death, would’ve wanted it that way… we presume.


(A rare, tender moment as Stone Cunt Noah Jackson pays respects to his former rival… mostly because he liked her new haircut… Source: Unreal Wrestling)

An impromptu, untelevised and quickly forgotten memorial service for our dearly departed Dolly Waters comes to an end on the “Death Star II”. The audience dries their eyes and flushes the unsettling images from their attentive starved minds, settling back into their seats to watch the main event of the evening.

grrralpphhh fUcK!

But in the midst of the buzz and melodramatic confusion, one member of the audience is found hunched over, forcing himself to feel something, anything, for maybe the first time in his miserable existence…

Chaz Blinbar, a wildly unsuccessful photographer for Paparazzi magazine pulls his bile soaked fingers from the back of his throat, swinging back up from his hunched position leaning against a wall in the studio, gagging and gasping as if he’d been forced to draw his final breaths. The choking induced tears running down from his eyes and through the maze of acne that clutters his pale features.

..this fucking bitch he mutters to himself between the sputtering of his self inflicted wretches.

Chaz thinks back to the moment he first laid eyes on Dolly, just a few days prior…

hey, Dolly! How’s it goin? How’s the family

Chaz demanded through the tenor of warm and condescending tone between the sounds of a dozen flashes from the camera dangling around his neck as he leaned over Dolly’s escort,

why the new hairstyle, girl? he gawked, hoping to milk some answers out of Dolly’s freshly shaven bald head,

The paparazzi revel in this type of sudden and unexpected behavior out of the celebrity class. It gives them a purpose for being, well, employed…

heh…glad you like it

She replied through gritted teeth, stepping from her vehicle and quickly covering her head with a hoodie, trying her damndest to hide behind a thick pair of dark sunglasses.

For Dolly, shaving her head was a very deep, very personal decision. One predicated on a long-growing notion of needing to cut away the roots of her former self. To finally step aside from the discouraging narratives about her career she’d let grow over the years.

It was thoughtful, and well spelled-out. Lock-step with the Star Wars themed show for which she would dawn her new-look. A look highlighted through the relevance of her time as a professional wrestler in he XWF… an opportune time to find balance between her failing to live up to the lights she’s been cast under, and the dark corners she’d sometimes slip into.

Hey, Dolly? Are you finally coming out as gay now? This look is very butch - - in a hawt kina’ way Chaz exclaimed, attempting to pull Dolly’s hood back down as she batted his hand away.

But for Chaz, it meant something else…

Fuck off, freak!

…as a talentless pariah amongst his peers, Dolly’s inexplicable moment of self-aware zen was a meal ticket for Chaz. A golden, and long deserved opportunity to prove himself worthy as a bloodsucking paparazzi.

Weeks prior to settling his focus on Dolly Waters, Chaz went to the editor of Papparrize magazine with photos of a spicy argument between Ben Afleck and J-Lo. But little did he know, he’d long-missed that hype train, and accidently only snapped a photo of some random drunkard arguing with a hispanic college student at a Marjorie Taylor Green rally.

Ashamed, defeated, broken by his dreams of profiting from the misfortunes of those more talented than him, Chaz wollowed back to Hollywood, where fate intervened. Sitting outside of a saloon, he noticed a familiar face in Dolly Waters of the XWF… her head slick, and hairless.

Flashbacks of the media frenzy of Britney Spears’ meltdown sparked the colorless coal of his heart into a raging fire. This was it, his big break. How many careers were made off the destruction of Britney’s sanity, how much money was made?  This was the meal ticket he so desperately needed. Chaz’s hands shook as he fumbled for his camera in his tattered, old duffel bag. Having failed so many times before, losing out on so many opportunities, he knew he couldn’t mess this up.

After countless failures, Chaz had been evicted by his roommate who now refused to continue to support him and was forced to sleep out on the sidewalk, was dumped by his on again off again girlfriend, and lost most of his belongings due to being stolen in the night.

He needed this Dolly Waters breakdown, and he needed to be the one to catch it first, and so he was…and from here, he would follow her, no matter how deep into the perceived, likely overblown, insanity she might delve. A picture's worth a thousand words they say, but for Chaz, it was worth so much more.

Godammit! Back in the “Death Star II” studio, Chaz punches and kicks the wall. What the fuck am I going to do now?! His one big break- the meltdown, fall, and destruction of Dolly Waters that he would make it big on- gone in the blink of an eye. How could she fucking do this to him? Barely moments into her first debut of the glorious bald head, and she goes and fucking dies.

Looking around panicked, Chaz scrambles to think of what to do next. Think Chaz, think. What’s the next move? What should I do? His hands rake through his greasy thin hair, pacing around. He watches the main event continue on as if Dolly hadn’t just been crushed to death when it hits him. Her body! I can at the very least get that.

Gathering his duffel bag, he creeps backstage towards the trash compactor hoping to be able to score the first photos of her mangled broken body. Little did he know….

Inside the compactor, the sweat on Dolly’s newly shaven, and slick bald head guided her skull along the cold, flat steel of one of the garbage compactors walls. Guiding her through the space-garbage that would’ve otherwise easily snagged and tangled up her former golden locks, leaving her trapped between the massive, unnecessarily dangerous walls in this Hollywood studio where she surely would’ve been crushed to smithereens.

Upon reaching the bottom of the trash compactor, Dolly spotted a small escape hatch on the floor, likely designed to drain out the juices of the space garbage. Luckily for her, it was just big enough for her to dive into just as the walls came closing in. After what felt like an hour of shimmying on her forearms through the filth caked tunnel, Dolly spotted a light leading her outside to -  -  -





Flash, flash, flash!



Dolly holds her hand up, shielding her eyes from the camera’s flash blinding her eyes. It’s that disgusting photographer again that ambushed her outside the salon. Stumbling out, covered in rotting garbage, she makes her way to her feet swaying, trying to get away from the trembling and overjoyed cretin in front of her.

Oh my god, oh my god! How did you escape? Dolly, tell me what happened! How does it feel to lose so quickly and so miserably? Do you think this is where the rest of your career is going to go, straight to the trash? Chaz cannot believe his luck. Not only did Dolly survive after another swift and devastating loss, but he was bound and determined to push her as far as he could to ensure the impending snap of her sanity.

Get the fuck away from me before I break you in two, you pathetic worm! she tries to circumvent him and slip away as he circles her, taunting with his flashing camera. leave me alone!

She spies an exit door down a nearby hallway and makes a break for it. After having to crawl through the compactor, her legs were stiff and she struggled to run as quickly as she would’ve liked. Chaz seized his opportunity and took off after her. Dolly! What’s it like being such a miserable failure? You can’t even beat a nobody like Jason What’s His Face; how could you ever expect to hold onto a Champion title? Chaz, having next to no knowledge of professional wrestling, heckles her as he continues snapping away chasing her towards the door.

But nonetheless, Chaz’s unlettered stupidity resonated for Dolly. Seeing red at hearing her worst fears come through the mouth of such a lowlife, Dolly whips around to confront him. Her face contorted, ready to unleash hell and put this prick in his place, her shoes slick with garbage juice, she starts to slip and falls right into him….

TRASHY DOLLY WATERS ATTACKS INNOCENT GOOD SAMARITAN

Dolly stops dead in her tracks walking past a magazine stand seeing that headline jump out at her. what the fuck is this?? She grabs a copy, not believing her eyes. That foul little cockroach sold those photos of her falling into him after slipping in the hallway. The most unflattering picture of her, snarled face, completely covered in rotten trash and slick with garbage juice, it truly looked like she was about to beat the shit out of someone.

“Oy, no reading! You buy then you read!” The stand attendant snatches the magazine out of Dolly’s shaking hands. She stood there bewildered. oh calm the hell down. Its not like its yer fucking face plastered all over the place! She slaps a twenty down on the counter, grabs another copy, and takes off…

Good Samaritan my ass

She grumbles sinking deeper into her couch, reading the article for the thousandth time. That little fucker painted the scenario as if he went to save her and she attacked him instead like some kind of deranged psycho.

If he wants a fucking fight, he’s going to get one.

another! Chaz snaps his fingers at a nearby waiter, not his own of course, and points at his empty wine glass. Don’t you see I’m empty here?? The waiter subtly rolls his eyes and walks back towards the kitchen. Chaz grins stupidly to himself as he cuts into his T-bone steak, the first real meal he’s had in a long time. After selling the photos and fabricating this tale of Dolly gone rogue, he was finally starting to see his fortunes improve. The waiter brought him a second glass, and Chaz grabbed it greedily slurping it down.

Hey fuck face!

Chaz chokes mid gulp whirling around seeing a fuming Dolly speed walking towards him. Eyes wide, he quickly reaches for his camera just knowing this is going to be great.

Don’t fuckin’ touch it! She reaches out to grab the camera away from him when flashes go off in her face again. What the hell is wrong with you??

Look baby, its just business, and boy is it booming. What, was the last time you ASSAULTED ME he yelled looking around not enough for you?? I’s just trying to eat my dinner in peace! Chaz ducks as Dolly hurls his wine glass towards him. Narrowly avoiding it, the glass and all its contents flies over his head and collides with the family at the table behind him. Glass shards scatter across the table and wine drenches a small little boy.

Oh my god, I’m so sorry! I’m so fucking sorry, let me help you! She rushes over to the table to try to salvage the situation when a large hand grabs her arm. “OUT. You can sit outside and wait for the cops.” The burly manager drags her out roughly by the arm as she pleads, trying to explain its all a misunderstanding. Looking over her shoulder, she sees Chaz give her a sly smile and a wink.

DOLLY WATERS ASSAULTS INNOCENT FAMILY AT STEAKHOUSE

What am I going to do about this? Dolly paces around her living room, balling up the newest edition of Chaz’s onslaught against her. Somehow he managed to capture the exact moment she threw that glass and the exact moment it shattered and showered all over that poor family. The article accompanying it was much worse than the last one claiming she assaulted them in a drunken rage after trying to once again attack the good Samaritan from the first article.

She tried to get in touch with the family after she unexpectedly was able to talk (or rather beg) her way out of being arrested or cited for assault, but the restaurant wouldn’t let her anywhere near them.

This is going to ruin me. Everyone’s going to think I’m some raving psycho freak attacking everyone left and right. How the fuck am I going to get out of this?

She picks up the phone to call someone but quickly realizes she has no one to call. Dolly felt so alone and lost. Why can’t I just catch a fucking break?! She rants and raves to herself when she sees her gold lined tarot cards glinting at her out of the corner of her eye.

Maluna.

Later on...

We see Dolly standing alone in her flat, laying against a mound of torn up celebrity gossip magazines. Her arms folded, looking away from the cameras, she sighs hard through her nostrils.


Dead… fucking DEAD?!

I know a lot of the wrestling world might’ve thought I died, weeks, months, even YEARS ago… but for my opponents, it’s fer’ damn certain they know better-

Dolly leans up from the pile and looks directly into the camera now, her bald head shining in the glow of the lens,

Right?

They better hope so, that’s all I know… because y’all might’ve forgotten about me… but I haven’t forgotten you.

Sure, cast me away as crushed, obliterated, broken… but never forget why both Dionysus and Mark Flynn are going to put forth the OPTIMAL effort for Warfare.

It’s not because Dionysus pulled-off the upset of century a few weeks back, and now Flynn has something to prove… for fucks sake, Flynn is pretty much oh-fer-goddamn-nil in those situations in XWF.

Ask Bobby Bourbon, ask that cataclysm-spinoff tag team of Caedus and Main...

ask Raion Kido..

you beat Flynn once, you’ve beaten him fer’ fuckin always.

No.

Fuck the lord of the vine… Dio-MEANS-Sus.

These two will go hard because the both of them realize they’ve been dealt the lord of the undead card their Magic spread.

A zombie.

An undying wraith.

A banshee.

A formerly bleach blond, bald headed, bad built, butch bodied incarnation of the overlooked that might just slip between their little “rivalry” and turn things on its head.

Might I go ahead and pluck through each of Dionysus’ and Mark Flynn’s words over the year regarding Dolly Waters and remind the world what these two already know about me?

Let me lay it out as crystal clearly as possible- these two are going to go hard because they know I’m here…

See, despite the world having forgot what I bring in between these ropes after watching that debacle, that FLUKE on Star Warfare, Flynn and Dionysus, two men I’ve shared the ring with on multiple occasions know damn well that I could steal their glory tomorrow night.

To hell with the tabloid gossip.

Dolly Waters is still a warrior. And for me, my focus is cold cut and clear in this match… beat. Mark. Flynn.

Not Clinton K, or K Clinton, or Slick Willie, or whatever nonsensical retcon Flynn tried to deploy to spare himself the humiliation of losing to a scrub like Dionysus. I'm stepping through those ropes tomorrow night with my intentions focused on upending the façade that is Mark Flynn, once, and fer' all.

See, I’ve made Dio squeal. I rolled his big ass up in the center of the ring and forced him to tap as an alternative to me ripping his arm out of his socket. Then I showed the poor-boy mercy by drafting him on my Wargames team, and allowing his name to attached to a team that defeated the likes of ThunderKnuckles and Dawk on our way to the finals. Dio was a good sacrificial lamb for my cause back then- just like he'll be tomorrow- when I finish the job that was written off by yer' contemporaries as a mistake, Dio.

When Dolly Waters makes Mark Flynn tap-out in the center of the ring, there will be no more denying. There will be no more alter egos. There will be no more schizophrenia to blame fer' what I always knew he was - - a lying piece of trash.

I called it out nearly four years ago, the first time I faced off against Flynn. I told the world that he was just manipulating the Good Comrade North Korean War Criminal, and yet no one listened. It was an act as obvious as the one he's trying to deploy against world right now. Blaming his loss on the ghost of an alt-right Atticus Finch possessing his body- making him too stupid to guard against a bungling, slow motion offense of Dionysus.

Jesus dicksucking Christ!

I had to slow down to make my match against Dio interesting! I had to cheat to make the main event more compelling! Yet, the world class, self-proclaimed "best in the world" Mark Flynn, got ragdolled by this fucking wine-slurping podunk? And has the AUDACITY to try and convince all of these dullards watching at home that it wasn't actually his fault?

Get wreked, Marco! Spare us the fucking theatrics.

I just got "crushed to death" on a world-wide broadcast of Warfare in like 10 seconds, and all it took was me confirming I'm still alive to get booked against the likes of YOU... the "best in the world" two weeks later. What's that say about you, Flynn? What's that say about me?

You were supposed to be the king of this mound in the XWF, and yet you've let people like Ned Kaye and King Prince Ade-idongiveafuck rule the roost? Two men who Dolly Waters has not only beat, but made the both of them piss down their legs! People wonder why I get booked with those bums and dont put forth any type of real effort- - it's because we know what that looks like already...

Again, ask Bobby Bourbon what it looks like...

Ask Doc D'Ville what it looks like...

Ask Jim Caedus what it looks like...

ask any of the near dozen or so Universal Champions I've castrated what it looks like and get back to me, Flynn.

Because you... yes you, yer' the one person in this industry I've legit threw all my weight at and still came up short.

Granted, I was baby sitting LSM, and had yer' hand held by the vastly more talented Comrade Criminal. But results are results. And on that day, and that day only... you got the best of me... and won.

But tomorrow is different, pal. Go on and tell the world that yer' not concerned with my presence in this match. Go on and lie to yer'self. Lie to Dio. I happen to think he too genuine to outright ignore me. Hell, I think the guy is still wearing bruises that I put on him last March, so it might be hard to fer'get. But while you sit there and ignore, and obfuscate what me being in this match means to yer' chances of winning, I want you to recognize something...

Dolly lifts from the ground a piece of a torn up tabloid. It shows an unflattering picture of her screaming at someone in public that was taken just days ago and reads -     

DOLLY IS BACK FROM THE DEAD!

Writing me off ain't something that's original. I've been listening to you do it ever since you copped that win against myself and LSM all those years ago. And yet the fact remains, that when you least expect it is when Dolly comes surging back.

ASk any of em, Mark. Ask the "best of the best" of the "world" - you know... the folks who've beaten you, what can happen when you write Dolly Waters off.

I've beat em' Mark. The men you couldn't topple were toppled by this Living Dead Girl.

Fuck, ask Dio. The Lord of the vine knows what it's like to feel his grapes in the presence of my wrath.

Tomorrow night, my objective is clear. Reset the narrative. Reclaim my name. And add another former XWF Universal Champion to my growing list of victories against people who underestimated me. People who wrote me off fer' dead.

I'm comin' fer' you, Flynn. You and all yer' alter egos. And I'll leave you sucking more air than Dio's Revelry pay-per-view card.

Dolly ain't dead, boys.

Ya'll were dead wrong fer' believing it. 

2x KWA Unified Southern Glory Champion
6x KWA Middleweight Champion
4x KWA Tag Team Champion
1x XWF XTreme Champion


-Dumb Dolly records that no one cares about-

3x XTreme Champion
2x Tag Team Champion (w/ Vita Valenteen, w/ Charlie Nickles)
2x Hart Champion
3x Television Champion

3x Star Of The Month
August ‘21, May ‘17, October ‘16

3x RP Of The Month
What light through sonder... my perception breaks.
Tranquility: For Old Times Sake
Manifest Victory