Post by Natural ICE Beckman on Jan 11, 2015 11:41:23 GMT -5
#SundayComics
(Natural ICE Beckman is examining the frost on his furry beard and mustache with help from the tip of his warm tongue. He walks forward, a man strong against the wind, a champion not afraid of any spirits, weather from the clouds of heavens or the fires of hell or threats of an Armageddon to come.)
ICE: The Great Lord of Wrestling spoke to me...he told me after the third R-Cairo...that I am the savior of the WCF, the new Piped Piper, the New Columbus of the Ringmat’s Oceans and the New Magellan of the Main Event Currents, frankly...I am...
(The wind blows across the lens of the camera causing ICE to be lost for a few moments in a breeze of fresh fallen snow. The wind soon dies down and reveals ICE Beckman smiling against the brisk cold with the same cocky attitude that climbed the Whoop Ass ladder, outlasted the great Pimp and defeated the once Father of the Pro Wrestling Gods.)
ICE: Seems like nature is speaking to me...or perhaps he is speaking to the WCF about a lesson I already know to be true, a lesson many of you have learned or are currently hiding in the shadows to avoid like a child might a doctor visit or a criminal might the long arm of the law. A lesson that hangs in the air that freezes like a vapor attacking the very air you need to be alive. A lesson that some need pounded into their thick skulls so many times their head wounds may bleed a frozen mass of reality, yet they continue to walk down the path of cold like a coma patient who has escaped his bed’s restraints.
(Again the wind kicks, bringing with it another blast of cold and snow. Again ICE smiles and faces the wind like it somehow is warming his soul, but the true fire that keeps ICE alive in the thought of Joe and Deuce thinking they belong across the ring from him, the World Champion and the Undead and Unreal Warrior of whatever world he chooses to Dominate, Zombie McMorris.)
ICE: And here I am standing outside during a cold blast that has stricken America’s north with a smile on my face and a thoughts of murder dancing like gumdrops in my head, yet in my upcoming match...me and the Shootmaster of the Underworld of WCF...are the Sane ones.
(ICE chuckles at the ridiculous words as the exit his mouth.
ICE: That is right, the Kings on the Throne of the WCF, high on whatever illegal journey we can get our hands on are the SANE ones when it comes to the state of our next victims; Steeltoe Jesus Joe and Weirdo “Number 2 in the Bathroom” MurCock. A couple of fools who play around with the concept of the end of the world like it’s a prayer they long for in their hopes and dreams. For what is that old rule that these pair of jokers have missed, a timeless tale learned from histories past, I think it goes...”Only an insane person does the same thing over and over and expects different results” Hence Ladies, Gentleman and Jobbers at home, I present to you the Insane Brains of the WCF, Armageddon Inc.
(ICE feels the chilly breeze tickle the back of his neck, but rather than hunching his shoulders for warmth, he zips down his jacket zipper a bit in order to let the winter party come in to play with the cells that like to tingle on the muscles of the best shit the WCF has ever seen wear it’s Golden Crown of the WCF Universe.)
ICE: But while insanity and hope unites them, the real world is rushing towards them like a title wave of pain combined with a tsunami of regret to follow. For one boasts about dominance over a division he had been handed and the other will brag about a country that he has conquered, but truly in the end, the moment the dust settles and the dawns early light bring truth upon the night they will both remember the times when they dared tried to stand against the force of the ICE AGE, they have failed...and here they are again, insane enough to think this time the results will be different.
(A gust of wind cuts across the frozen lake and right into the face of Your World Champion. ICE lets the bitterness taste the white of his teeth and inhales back a familiar gust of icy opinion from Mother Nature.)
ICE: Crazy ass morons, riding on the wings of hopes with the words of babes trickling from their uneducated mouths. A Steeltoe riddle I have solved before, a report from a sick man that I have squashed before...two insane rodeo clowns lighting a future for chaos who soon will only find dead intentions on the other side of their fuse.
(ICE can feel the cold temperature sink lower from the tips of his exposed fingers, he can taste the extreme cold overcoming his town with ripples of a biting breeze and he knows the ICE AGE has truly taken over his world and those who dare trek against him are somewhere Bobby is stroking the wrong belt while Steeltoe forgets his only real purpose with the addictive thoughts of the belt that became better the second ICE Beckman let his AGE of ICE get to fucking work.)
ICE: But let them come, like soldiers trained to keep moving forward across the battlefield, for no matter the odds forming in front of them, they must keep moving...and that is the moment where the Kings come into play. That is where their hope becomes ash against the wind as the truth finally strikes them down, that is the time and place where children cry for what they wanted has turned to nothing. That is the moment where the whole World gets it...a moment that has happened before with STJ and his blind followers...but the true question isn’t: will Joe win this time, but actually...Will Joe finally learn his place as a People’s Gutter Champion, but little more.
(ICE Beckman feels the hate crawl up towards his brain like Buddy Roman himself is whipping in to climb and climb until it finds its true home. ICE no longer feels the cold and instead has the image of Steeltoe laid upon his self-made cross, blood dripping from his big mouth while his right hand consular reports to him nothing new, nothing unexpected, but none the less extremely harsh news that the world he tried to grow up has vomited him back out like the unwanted disease he always was.)
ICE: So talk big Steeltoe, talk of heavenly words and God like announcements, for when the Kings have citied you as a foe it is only a matter of time before you are nothing more than children’s chalk drawings being washed away in a rain. For to be honest Gonzo, you are a lucky fuck riding high on the winds of good chance, a place from which you soon will fall with a sickening thud, but it is you Steeltoe Joe that truly that is the one a path to distress; for it is you, a man who stands tall in the mind of the people, but who will always struggles when the lights of the main moment is upon them.
(ICE looks across the ice on the lake, the dancing snow in the wind and the clear stars that begins to show itself with the help of parting clouds.)
ICE: It is you Steeltoe that I have had enough of, you that I am sick of, you that keep coming back like a vermin creature of your shit Lord, you, Steeltoe Joe, that I plan to end one way or another.
(ICE walks back towards his cabin as the glory of nature responds to words of the ICE AGE like the fucking gold remarks they are with a strong gust of harsh wind and an encompassing feeling of cold as ICE steps into his slightly warmer lake porch. He begins to take off his jacket as old transistor radio spews information over the Foam Lake area airwaves.)
FM Radio: Welcome back to Foam Lake FM, we will be getting right to that request from a Mr. PJ for “I’m too Sexy” by something known as Right Said Fred, right after this announcement.
(ICE stops to listen, his cute smile forming the chipmunk like cheeks of his face as he cleans his bread of castaway frost.)
FM Radio: Attention all Foam Lake school students and children, tomorrow Schools Are Closed.
(A high pitch cheer can be heard from the frozen shores all around the lake. ICE smiles at their youthful glee, remembering his own joy in such a forthcoming day as the broadcaster keeps up his breaking news.)
FM Radio: Yes, for one of the coldest days in recent North Wisconsin history is on its way to our fake lake town and while we are a hearty bunch, I promise you this will be a true deep freeze like little of us have ever experienced before. Stay Warm Foam Lake, Stay Warm.
(ICE smiles at the simple remark, knowing his wishes are meant for snapping shoulders and smashing skulls, not such a trivial thing as the blessings of winter.)
ICE: All I need to warm myself is the thoughts of gushing failure from the team of Armageddon and...of course some drugs and a drink...
(ICE walks into the main room of his lake cabin to find a fire roaring in the fireplace and nervous looking skinny nerd pacing back and forth. Dee stops the moment he sees Your WCF World Champion looking down at him.)
DEE: ICE...hey...hi...um, there is no problem, why do you ask?
ICE: I didn’t fucking ask.
DEE: Good, I mean Good, I mean fine, okay, fine.
ICE: What the shit is up with you? Did PJ vomit in my shower again?
DEE: No...I mean yes, I mean no...I mean...um.
ICE: Fuck this, I need a drink.
DEE: NOOOOO!!!
ICE: What the fuck did you just say to me?
DEE: NO, as in French for Yes.
ICE: Well shit, I pride myself on not knowing a lick of French, so I will have to take your word for that...plus it sounds stupid; just like French people.
DEE: So yeah...so wanna play WCF Scrabble? I mean it does come from the line of Drunk Money INC. board games after all.
ICE: Sure, just let me get a fucking drink first.
(DEE puckers up his face like a man might on his first day of prison as ICE Beckman makes his way over to his in-house homemade bar set up. But after ICE finds a glass he finds...nothing else...no whiskey, no beer, no booze, No Nothing!!!)
ICE: Where is all my fucking booze and beer?
DEE: Well, ICE, you drank it all.
ICE: Of fucking course I drank it all, I am the True Drunk, The Whoop ASS Ladder Champ, The Drinking Champion of the FUCKING World...but I still always have reserves on the way.
DEE: Well, um, the shipment was delayed, because of the weather. The truck slide off the road and almost took out a school yard full of children.
ICE: WHAT THE FUCK?!?
DEE: Don’t worry, the kids and truck driver were okay.
ICE: But What ABOUT THE BOOZE?!?
DEE: Well...um, it is not coming....But hey, in my defense, PJ didn’t even want to tell you!
(ICE Beckman looks towards his kitchen to see the chunky PJ duck back behind the wall.)
ICE: I have a big match this week, the fucking reputation of the Vapor Kings is on the line, the glory of Buddy and the accession of McMorris is at stake, and You Want Me to Do This Fucking Sober!!
DEE: Don’t worry, I found a few other things around your place that might “make do” for alcohol.
(DEE gestures at ICE’s coffee table that has a bed sheet draped over it.)
ICE: No fucking booze for a few nights? Then that better be Chelsea naked under a mound of cocaine under that sheet.
DEE: Well it is not that...but it is the best I could do.
(Dee pulls back the sheet with the flare his 7th grade magician classes taught him; however ICE is not impressed with what has been exposed before him on the table as intoxication options.)
ICE: So I am supposed to get fucking drunk and think all night about killing Steeltoe Blow and Bonzo the Shit-Clown with help from these things...a mixology drink making book, a bag of M&Ms and a half empty bottle of mouth wash?
DEE: I will have you know that there is alcohol in the mouth wash.
ICE: Really?
(ICE grabs the bottle of mouth wash and is just about to chug it when he looks back at Dee.)
ICE: Wait, who the fuck's mouthwash is this?
DEE: Um, me...and...my moms.
(Beckman throws the open bottle of teeth cleaner at Dee.)
ICE: Fuck This Shit.
PJ: (Peaking around the corner.)...Can I have those M&Ms if you aren’t going to eat them ICE?
ICE: Do whatever the Fuck you want, it is time to go to the bar.
DEE: Hey, hate to be the barrier of bad news.
ICE: WHAT the FUCK NOW?!
DEE: Um, I mean Hey PJ, tell him about the bars.
PJ: How they are all closed due to frozen water pipes?
ICE: SO no fucking alcohol delivery, no fucking bars for miles....in these moments I look to a higher power...and by that I mean Fucking Drugs.
(Natural pulls open his drug drawer on a nearby cabinet to find Mother Hubbard’s empty drug stash. ICE feels the emptiness for himself before looking back to his friends who are reacting like he is a time bomb soon to go off.)
ICE: So, then I need drugs, time to call my dealer Eddie.
DEE: Well, we, um tried.
PJ: EDDIE IS DEAD!!
ICE: What the fuck?
DEE: He isn’t dead, but well, he might be by now, but he wasn't last time we talked to him.
(ICE is quick to find his phone and presses the In Case of Emergency button in order to give Eddie the Dealer a quick ring.)
Ring...Ring...Ring...
Eddie: Hello man?
ICE: Eddie?
Eddie: Yeah, hey man, please-
ICE: So you aren’t fucking dead?
Eddie: No man, but my car isn’t starting, and I am on highway in the middle of no wh-
ICE: Good you’re alive; now do you have drugs?
Eddie: I lost to them a pack of angry raccoons, but if you could just call for help for me, I would apper-
ICE: SO no drugs?
Eddie: Yes, but I think I am going to die soon, I am super cold and I hear wolves nearby.
(ICE Beckman hangs up the phone as the rage begins to title wave his spirit and he must think of the voice of his father Roman in order to conquer the seas of rage.)
ICE: Fuck me. This is night is going to be worse than having to fight Steeltoe for a third time. But there is still one option, getting the fuck out of town.
PJ: Can I come with you?
ICE: No.
PJ: If I promise not to talk can I come with you?
ICE: No talking? Hmmmm....it's still a no.
(Beckman walks out into the last bit of daylight hanging in the bitter winter air. He finishes putting on his jean jacket as he crunches himself through the hard snow. He fumbles for the keys in his pocket as he sees the side of the truck and smiles with the thought of Steeltoe’s head ramming into it. He then goes around the front of the truck, seeing the large blue hood that would be perfect for slamming the spine of Gonzo onto. ICE jumps into the cab of the truck with a groan from the frozen shocks before Beckman cranks the ignition...and the engine roars, growls and stops. ICE tries again...more roaring, more growling and a another harsh shut down.)
ICE: Even my fucking truck is dead...and soon so is my buzz.
(And then it truly and really hits ICE...like it might someday for Steeltoe and the World Title picture...the truth of it all...ICE Beckman is stuck with sobriety.
Or that is at least what he thought...
A nearly full moon departs from the clouds in the night sky. Somewhere a pack of wolves talks to another with howls and the gusts of winds strain across the layers of snow that have building up over the last few hours of precipitation. There is one thing that be heard over the wind, the howls, the noisy world of nature...a mumbling of curses and determined effort come with each step as the promo pans down from the nearly full moon to see a WCF King walking towards Foam Lake.)
ZMAC: Cold...snow...frost advisory...more of a joke than Gonzo’s America.
(The trail of snow shows ZMAC’s badass trek through the woods from a bid eye’s view from above the tall frosted pines of the northern Wisconsin woods as the promo shifts back to...
...ICE Beckman still sitting in his dead truck with a energy that is very much alive and coursing through his sobering veins. ICE breathes in as much oxygen as his lungs will hold.)
ICE: Fuck Joe and Gonzo!!!
(ICE Beckman tenses up with the image of sobriety on his reality’s horizon. Your World Champ then grabs the steering wheel of his pickup truck and with little effort thanks to the rage warming his inside ICE rips the wheel right from the steering column. He calmly places the steering wheel in the passenger’s side of the truck before exhaling with a mountain of aggravating reasons to hate his world around him.)
ICE: Rage and anger...hate and passion...wants and needs...things I know, things Joe thinks he knows and outcomes only the true God of fate can present to the world. I don’t want to be sober, but it is too fucking cold to go anywhere...Steeltoe wants to beat the ICE Age, but he is too much of a mid-card joker to succeed in such a task. Now is that meant to sound like an insult? Fucking shit yeah it is, and why would I not think like that, my history of Joe has been me scraping me off my boot and while Gonzo might have the title I made famous around his waist, he only knows me as the man who carried him to a victory at Halloween and the top dog in which to fear the most here in this junkyard of a federation.
(ICE sighs and feel the rush of sobriety sting at his wits causing him to remember things he drank to forget and memories that he smoked to smoke out of his conscious world.)
ICE: But while I know from the lessons of Father Roman and the teaching of my large pile of WCF victories, I have confidence, but not oversight. I know Steeltoe is hanging onto a thin hope of his courage rope with a pray and a wish and if I allow just a moment of actual success in the ring against me to enter his belief system that I may just find a resurrected Joe combined with a dramatic wild card looking to do anything in order to prove himself...and that is why I trust my strength, my power and the best fucking talented sleeking along the halls, a man Seth has tried to bury, a man that don’t stay down no matter how many refs try to screw him or how much figurative soil they try to throw onto him to keep him down, Zombie McMorris is ready to taste success at is ready to keep a wake of bodies in his path. Steeltoe and Gonzo might think they are destiny’s newest sweet babe, but ZMAC and I are creatures who have both feasted on such optimism many times in our careers as Kings. And nothing will change that come Slam...not an Over-rated Flame, a Dramatic Deuce Poo or even Soberness.
(ICE leans back in the truck’s seat, feeling pain begin to pulse in ring wounds, feeling a fog lift from his mental atmosphere and the cold begin to seek in...but unlike the first two things, the cold is a welcome feeling to dance on his soul. ICE breaths it in, so much that the frost tingles the tips of lungs and tortures his heart with a bear hug like a small child loving their strong papa. ICE smiles, somehow this is going to be okay, somehow he is going to get through this night of clean living.)
ICE: I mean, really...how bad can being sober be?
(Beckman opens the truck’s door and steps back down onto his icy driveway. He walks through the weather feeling the effects of the middle of winter like he might feel the effects of a bong hit, a beer chug or a whiskey shot. He walks through the front door of his cabin almost happy while thinking about Gonzo tapping and Joe a rapping against the ring mat. But his optimistic attitude about no drugs and booze is quick to fade away as he sees the awful world of being sober staring him in the face as he watches DEE and PJ begin to argue on the cabin’s couch.)
PJ: DEE! Stop it I want to be ICE in this next match!!
DEE: Well I got him first, besides last time we played the WCF Video Game you got to be ICE every time!!
PJ: Either let me be ICE or I will date your Mom, Dee!!
DEE: You wouldn’t dare?
PJ: Really because I love how she reminds me of my Own Mom!!
DEE: Fine, be ICE in the game, but promise me you will never date my mom or tell me any of your sick thoughts about her.
PJ: Now even my dream last night where she was a nurse and I had a bad case of cold penis-...Hey, ICE is Back!!! Did you come back for me?
ICE: Shut the fuck up...now where the fuck is the mouthwash?
DEE: PJ just finished chugging it.
ICE: You have to be fucking kidding me.
PJ: I don’t get it ICE man, you always have a big bag of shrooms and weed stashed away I thought.
ICE: Fuck, that reminds me.
DEE: That it is my Birthday?
ICE: No, not fucking that.
DEE: Oh, because it is.
PJ: Stop being so selfish Dee! ICE was about to say something.
ICE: I just remembered what I did with that weed and shrooms. Wait, I just fucking remembered something, I knew this sobriety shit would be crap.
DEE: What did you do with them...sell them for my present?
ICE: Dee, shut the fuck up. And as for what I did with those drugs, well I was trying to prepare for Gonzo, a journalist who does a lot of THC, so I went and found-
(But before ICE can finish his statement there is a pounding coming from the bedroom’s door. PJ, DEE and ICE all look over with wonderment as the pounding begins to intensity. ICE waits for it as DEE and PJ let their eyes spring wide as a landmark of WCF television comes bursting out of the bedroom...Mr. Hank Brow...who is riding the rainbow highway of make believe images under a firework show of tripping.)
Hank Brown: I am the Lizard King...or am I Hank...no, I am the LIZARD KING!!!
DEE: WCF man on the street, reporter to all and insight seeker to the stars...Mr. Hank Brown.
ICE:...don’t forget the Lizard King.
PJ: And look at him, he is higher than a kite!
ICE: Fucking lucky prick.
Hank Brown: I am high...no I am not high, I am the Lizard King the guardian of everything that mother nature sees as holy.
DEE: And hanging out with this guy is going to help you beat Gonzo Deuce?
ICE: I thought so, but that is back before sobriety began to creep upon my like that kiss from that crazy aunt everyone has.
PJ: I thought you didn’t have a family, ICE.
ICE: I didn’t but now I have Orbit, Chelsea and Buddy, oh shit Father Roman!!
Hank Brown: Buddy Roman? The Buzz Killer himself...wait, buzz, bryan, is that two timing stealing story fuck around here....because if so, I think I would like to punch him in the face...no wait, I think I want to hug him...but since he isn’t around, you will do.
(Hank Brown begins to hug a Dee, a skinny nerd who is not use to the feeling of human contact unless it is coming from the flabby arms of his extremely large and over bearing mother.)
DEE: Um, ICE, please help me.
ICE: Not now, I just realized I forgot about something with Father Roman.
(Beckman pulls out his phone, the echoing of a headache beginning to ring in his head like church bells do in the mind of Steeltoe for every little accomplishment he has, weather that is pissing with minimal splash back or defeating Jobber Villain and his band of merry push-overs.)
PJ: Wait, did you do something to make Buddy Roman mad? Because if so, I am not taking the blame for it; last time you did that the guy made me eat a box of used tampons from the ladies room as punishment for even trying to talk to him.
ICE: Well, lucky my Daddy loves me...or I hope he still does. Fucking shit crap sobriety making me forget things!!!
DEE: What did you forget?...Also, can anyone stop this hug already?
Hank Brown: God himself can’t stop our love hug man.
ICE: Father and I were supposed to be on this show tonight to promote my match at Slam this week.
PJ: What show?
ICE: Jerry Gerry and the Jerky Bunch.
DEE: Wait, that is just a prank show! Where they invite people on only to prank them!! Also, enough Hank Brown....(tries to push Hank’s love hug away)...wow, this guy is strong!
Hank Brown: No I am not, you are just very weak, but I still LOVE you.
(ICE begins to check the texts in his phone and gulps as he sees four missed messages from his beloved father and wrestling career mentor. ICE’s face, usually flushed with rosy cheeks and a trademark smile seems more like a man who just his future begin to burn in front of his very own eyes.
Meanwhile at TV studio in the Chicago area Buddy Roman is finishing his latest disappointment text his to World Champion son. When a producer comes up to him and tells him it is time for him to go on the set for the show. Roman walks into the bright lights of the studio with his usual confidence despite the fact the original game plan for the show have gone awry thanks to his missing son, Natural. Buddy shakes the hand of the host of the show, a man he instantly judges to be a weasel of a man not worthy of his time, but Roman is a man of business and he sees the cameras upon him as free air time to spread the good word of his creation, his love affair, The Vapor Kings.)
Jerry Gerry: Hello and Welcome to our show Buddy Roman!!
Buddy Roman: Indeed, I am happy to have this opportunity to speak on my Stable of the Year.
Jerry Gerry: Well, speaking of them...where is your big, bad, World Champion? Mr. ICE Beckman?
Buddy Roman: He seems to be a bit delayed.
Jerry Gerry: Probably super drunk and wasted somewhere knowing him, right?
(Buddy doesn’t bother to respond to what he finds as an insulting and degrading comment about the man he both fights for his with words and loves with his big passionate heart.
Back to where ICE Beckman is feeling the last bit of booze sweat itself out from the usually un-pure pours of the WCF World Champion as he paces back and forth trying to get his phone to work while DEE paces behind him like a good puppy dog does. PJ meanwhile is on the couch with a stoned Hank Brown who is reading the back of his own hands like an engineer might unexplored terrain.)
Hank Brown: How long have I had these small hills on my hand?
PJ: I think they are called knuckles.
DEE: What are you texting him back?
ICE: Just a warning and a-...HOLY SHIT!!! My phone just died. I forgot to fucking Charge IT!!!
DEE: But you never forget anything?! Well I mean you forgot my Birthday and my Mom’s Birthday and My Anniversary of my SIMs character getting married.
ICE: Well you know the old phrase; Soberness is the Worst Thing Ever.
PJ: That doesn’t sound like a popular phrase.
Hank Brown: I love the way you chin’s ripple like waves when you speak PJ.
PJ: Really? How nice of you to say.
Hank Brown: By the way ICE Man, thank you for having me over, I am loving this whole thing. From your big smelly friend here to the creep who keeps peeping into the windows.
ICE: I can’t wait to dig my thumbs into Joe’s eyes, or better yet I will make him Tap Out and then dig my thumbs into his temples until his over-rated face explodes like fucking jam in my hands!!!
DEE: Wow, being sober is making you way more mean then any drug.
PJ: Wait, I just saw the guy in the window that Hank is seeing.
Hank Brown: I can hear him too, his teeth are chattering louder than mine do when I have to interview Oblivion.
DEE: Who would be out in this super-duper cold night?
ICE: it is probably just fucking Buck Fucker.
PJ: No way he is down in Milwaukee for the Adult Pokemon Convention.
DEE: Wait, what is the Adult Pokemon Convention? And why wasn’t I invited?
PJ: He said it was something where adults dress up like Pokemon characters.
DEE: That sounds awesome!!!
PJ: And then have lots of sex with one another.
DEE: That sounds gross.
Hank Brown: I would get fucked by Pikachu. He seems nice and huggable.
ICE: No one fucking cares Hank.
Hank Brown: Well you asked.
ICE: No I didn’t, and for the record Hank your hugs suck.
Hank Brown: That makes my rainbow shine with only the blue colors of sadness.
ICE: Wait, I just saw a fucking face out there...time to pull an anit-Steeltoe Joe and Do Something about this shit right fucking now!!!
(Beckman runs out of his wooden cabin and into the deep freeze currently circling the earth.)
DEE: I thought the anti-Steeltoe Joe was the anti-Christ.
PJ: I thought Steeltoe Joe was the anti-Christ?
Hank Brown: No, it just seems like that when you have to watch his promos!!
(Hank Brown...well stoned off his mic, Hank Brown begins to giggle at the words he just released onto the ears of those around him as we find ICE Beckman dragging a stranger back into the warm cabin by a thin little arm connected to a whiney, but scrappy, guy. ICE throws him down into the ugly shag carpeting along with a snot rocket. The little guy begins to roll around the floor while softly praying to himself for help as the rest of the Drunk Money Crew and the fucked up Hank brown circle around him.)
DEE: Who is he?
PJ: If I had to guess, he is a human being.
DEE: Obviously he is a Human Being!!
Hank Brown: Don’t assume anything my love child, for he may be our God or at least an alien from the moon or maybe he is my pants come to life.
ICE: Everyone shut the fuck up...(ICE grabs the guy dressed in all black)...now who the fuck are you?
STJ Super Fan: Just call me STJ Super Fan.
PJ: Holy shit, be careful he has an STJ!!! He probably got if from a hooker! Or worse my Ex-wife!!
DEE: He said STJ, not STD.
ICE: Same fucking thing.
STJ Super Fan: And that is exactly why I have come here, to end you in the name of the People’s Pastor!!
(ICE grabs the skinny man laid out on his floor and begins to choke him until his face turns red from anger to red from a lack of oxygen getting to his face.)
DEE: NO ICE! Don’t kill him!!
ICE: Why not?
Hank Brown: Because peace and love, right Dee?
DEE: No because he is a skinny nerd, but still a grown man, just like I am.
STJ Super Fan: No, I am a Steeltoe Joe Super Fan, and I am here to kill ICE BECKMAN!!!
PJ: No you’re not, I mean why would anyone ever think that?
(The awkward situation in the Foam Lake cabin for YOUR World Champion takes a break for everyone to collect their thoughts. The only thought running through ICE mind is pure, simple and straight to the point: Will this Fucking Night of No Drugs Ever End?
And somewhere in the woods, powering through the snow it thick black boots and ripped off denim shorts, is a man who doesn’t even hunch over for more warm from his leather coat, but just keeps moving forward no matter the strength of the wind punching him in the face over and over. His only response to the horrible conditions is the following hate filled phrase.)
ZMAC: Honey Badger don’t give a shit.
(He continues under the grey clouds as we remember that somewhere else in the great portion of American known as the Midwest Buddy Roman is about to speak his genius fucking mind.
The bright lights seem to be getting brighter as the dweeb known as Jerry Gerry keeps bothering the great Buddy Roman with annoying questions. Buddy is waiting for his moment, but inside he is a ticking timebomb with a fuse that is burning shorter with each mind-numbing interaction with this brain dead and youthful host.)
Jerry Gerry: Now we want to ask you about Chelsea and ICE and-
Buddy Roman: Shut up right now.
Jerry Gerry: But this is my show, I can-
Buddy Roman: No. Shut up.
Jerry Gerry:.....
Buddy Roman: Natural ICE Beckman and Zombie McMorris are perfect knit team bound with their love of a chaotic view to the world and the hungry to always be ready to a fight, a battle, a War. And in the places where they link they world together to help one another while at the same time making the stable stronger. Where ICE is creative and fun in the ring, ZMAC is ruthless and fears no situation. Together they are one, united like brothers with their respect for my ability to lead and bound together like dictators over the federation of the WCF, their Kingdom between the ropes.
(Buddy continues to look into the camera, his expression matching the intensity of his words. Meanwhile behind him Jerry Gerry’s bag of misfits has begun to sneak up behind Buddy carrying a large Gatorade cooler. Buddy continues, keeping his words and vision focused on the lost souls of Gonzo and Steeltoe. Jerry tries to his best not to snicker as he only peeks at his friends creeping up.)
Buddy Roman: As for the short straw pickers that is named after their fate, Armageddon INC. A team composed of two men only united and bound by a need to survive in a world created by my warriors. They did not come together when the moment was just right, no, rather they are a faction that only begin viewing the world the same for the blood that was dripping down their faces. Steeltoe Joe is a hack, a piece of poser vermin that has clung to the WCF like a bottom feeding barnacle. And his partner Gonzo is a mix of luck and ass backwards talent. Two men who wear WCF Gold made from dust, ready to blow away from them as soon as their winds of fortune change direction and they are left, naked, alone and at the bottom of the WCF feeding bowl. Their downfalls begin this week on Slam and my big smile will be watching it with pride overflowing in my soul.
Jerry Gerry: And speaking of Over-Flowing...Boys...1...2...
(Buddy just begins to turn around moments before three.
ICE slams his fast on the top of the TV’s power button in order to shut it off and see no more of the program. Beckman turns quickly, seeing no tricky trails in his vision, only pure crisp lines that make up his ugly collection friends and companions on this frigid night in the northern woods. ICE rubs his eyes feeling anger boiling in his sobriety like a poisoned stew. He opens them to see PJ looking over at the Steeltoe Joe super fan that has been duck taped to a table chair, while PJ himself is sitting on the couch along with Dee and the high flying Hank Brown.)
ICE: Enough of that! It is bad enough I have failed Father, I don’t need to watch it.
PJ: Usually I hate when a TV goes off, but that is fine with me, we need to get back to this little munchkin saying he wants to kill ICE!!
DEE: Fine, I said that once, but ICE had just signed me up for The Girls Scouts!
Hank Brown: They do have lovely cookies.
PJ: I was talking about this Steeltoe Joe Super Fan here.
DEE: Oh, yeah, him.
STJ Super Fan: Are you all high or what?
ICE: I wish.
PJ: Listen up bub, I don’t like the idea of anyone killing ICE but me.
ICE: Fuck yeah- wait, what the fuck did you just say PJ?
PJ: Don’t worry ICE, that isn’t going until me way later in life, when we are roommates at Shady Pines and you ask me to, but let’s focus on this loser for now. Now why do you want to kill the best Wrestler Ever?
STJ Super Fun: Steeltoe Joe is the best People’s Champ ever; hence he is the best wrestler ever. And I am here on a mission from God. He told me in a vision that I needed to kill ICE so Steeltoe could finally become the World Champion.
DEE: A had a vision? Sounds like you are just a kook or a whacko to me.
Hank Brown: Yes, clearly he is crazy, that is a good point talking broom.
PJ: I saw we kill him instead.
Hank Brown: Oh, but I think that may be going too far talking couch.
ICE: Damnit Hank Brown, stop talking about like you are tripping balls, you are fucking making me jealous. Fuck I wish my match started right now so I could pound the good vibes out of Gonzo or grind the holy flame out with the heel of my boot.
STJ Super Fan: You will never beat Joe...again...like you have done twice already. But this time will be different.
ICE: And fuck me for even asking this, but why exactly is that.
STJ Super Fan: Well because Steeltoe says so.
ICE: He fucking said so last time, what Makes THIS TIME DIFFERENT!!!
(ICE grabs the super fan by the hair and is yelling at him with a face so fed Santa could guide his sleigh by it. The tension in the room is thicker than Bobby Cairo before he ever heard the name Natural ICE Beckman, thicker than the love between Seth and his money, thicker than Joe’s dumbass head. Until...)
Hank Brown: Has anyone here every made love to their pet?
(Even ICE’s rage drains away with that simple disgusting and offensive question.)
Hank Brown: Not that I have...I am just saying...I am a alone a lot and my cat really seems to like me and the last date I went on ended with a restraining order.
PJ: Yeah, join the club man.
Hank Brown: Are you lonely as well Pillsbury dough boy...wait, since when do you wear clothes?
STJ Super Fan: This is why Steeltoe Joe will take your title, this is why him and Gonzo will beat you at Slam this week, because you spend all your free time hanging out with freaks like this.
ICE: Ha God Boy! I have been hanging out with losers, freaks and dorks my whole life and all it has got me is this!!
(ICE shoves the World title in the face of the loyal fan of the People’s Champ.)
ICE: Do you see it, do you smell it, do you feel it?!? For right now in this moment you are closer to this than Steeltoe will EVER BE!!
PJ: YEAHHH!!!!
(Again the intense moments sparked by ICE’s clear mind and his simple hateful thoughts that keep running through his usually bombed out brain comes to an irrupt ending.)
Hank Brown: You guys know what I really want in life?
DEE: Hopefully not another hug; my shoulders still hurt from the last one you gave me.
Hank Brown: No, what I really want is someone to ask me a question.
ICE: Why don’t you go fuck yourself Hank?!!
Hank Brown: While that is a question, not exactly what I was looking for, but at least now I can say I have talked with a talking bear before, now tell me talking bear, how do you feel about your upcoming match this weekend?
ICE: Hank, thank you being just like Gonzo Deuce.
Hank Brown: You are welcome, also I am confused. Not only by the fact that your head is on fire; but also why are you thanking me?
ICE: Because hanging out with you has prepared me for Gonzo perfectly, I have no idea what you about to say, but I still don’t fear your non-sense bull-shot words. Just like Gonzo I don’t know if he is going to break down and cry in the ring, laugh and shout like a mad man, or actually try to hurt me...hence I have learned the best way to deal with Gonzo, is the same best way to deal with any reporter, give them nothing to use against you while at the same time punching them right in their big fucking mouths.
PJ: YEAHHH!!!!
Hank Brown: YEAAHHHH!!!
(Hank Brown a mix of confusion, drugs and the moment losses himself in the radiating hate of ICE Beckman, closes his eyes to a world of ghouls dancing about him and then swings like a mad man...knocking DEE right in the teeth with a crazy haymaker punch!!)
DEE: OUCHIE!!! Gosh darn that hurt.
Hank Brown: Oh my GOD!! I THINK I JUST PUNCHED MY DEAD GRANDMOTHER!!!
STJ Super Fan: You All are CRAZY!!!!
PJ: YELLING IS FUN!!!
ICE: Everyone Shut The Fuck Up!
Hank Brown: Am I an Everyone? Or are we all everyone? Whoa...deep thoughts, right God?
ICE: I am not God Hank...a God, but not thee God.
STJ Super Fan: Yeah, that is the Son of Steel, the Pastor of Disaster, the son of the creator himself...Steeltoe Joe!!!
ICE: And you fucking know what STJ Asshole Fan or whatever you call yourself, thank you fucking as well, for you have reminded me that Steeltoe is a crazy ass fuck who thinks of himself as a delusional asshole God who despite his life in the gutter sees nothing but a yellow brick round beneath his feet.
STJ Super Fan: Yeah, Steeltoe Joe, aka the guy who is better than Bobby Cairo!!
ICE: Exactly it is that fucking kind of fucking insanity that has helped me prepared for Joe. A walking tree of a man who reminds me of a dinosaur with his tiny mind and extinct way of life; and you Super Fan seem like you will stick with him, just like he always will, not matter how many time the ICE AGE freezes him out or he steals the one and only title he has ever been made for from the blue storm that waits on the horizon of the WCF. Just another dip-shit can’t hang fuck face whose grave I have dug before and will dig again...now the only real question left for Joe is...who do you want to be buried next to this time Joe? Maybe Livewire? Or Corey Black? How about Seifer or Colin Marshall? Or maybe even Bobby Cairo? For I have sent them all packing in my title reign...now what makes you any different...I am ASKING YOU what Makes STEELTOE Any FUCKING Different?
(ICE feels nothing but hate...no buzz is left, no music playing for his dancing thoughts, no artist painting with vibrant colors across the landscape of his brain, no nothing but the harshness of true, cold reality.)
STJ Super Fan: Yeah, those are good points, but I still believe in Steeltoe Joe. He is the savior of the WCF!
PJ: Uh, I am guessing that was the wrong answer guy.
DEE: Judging from the shade of red in ICE’s face, I am guessing that for sure was the wrong answer.
ICE: It was...but I think I know just how to beat these two metaphors of Armageddon INC.
PJ: Didn’t you already know that? I mean you are better than them already, right? Like you have beat them and stuff.
ICE: Good point, well thanks but no thanks, the Cocktailed Cross-face and 100 Proof shot already know what they are doing.
STJ Super Fan: Well then what now?
ICE: Fuck, I guess I will just punch Gonzo in the gut like this.
(Hank Brown, memorized by the colors in the lights, doesn’t see ICE’s punch coming at all. ICE’s mighty fist lands with a mighty impact into the gut of Hank Brown. Hank smiles, then frowns and then vomits all over the STJ Super Fan who is strapped into the chair.)
ICE: Now that is the perfect ending to this metaphor.
(ICE just listens to the scene play out behind him. The Super Fan crying for freedom, Hank vomiting a second load, DEE screaming for towels and PJ giggling like a school boy with chaos unfolding all around. ICE hears the cabin door shut behind him as he enters the world of cold calmness that has been waiting all night outside his door. ICE feels a clear mind for the first time in years, he tries to think of Chelsea but his sober state drains her away, ICE tries to think of his Father’s love but that too is quick to fade away and just when ICE is about to let sobriety claim his brain for itself he hears a rustling coming from the woods. He wonders if it his dog, or a bear or...best yet...)
ZMAC: Hey there Beckman, what is up?
(Like an angel covered in white from the snow is Zombie McMorris, a pissed off look upon his face and illegal brown bag in his hand.)
ICE: McMorris?
ZMAC: ICE man...want to get high?
ICE: You have no fucking idea how bad I do. But I failed Father Roman.
ZMAC: I’m not sure what you’re talkin’ ‘bout the last text I got from the guy made him seem just fine.
(ZMAC shows ICE a picture on his phone with Buddy standing next to Jerry Gerry. Jerry is laid out on the ground and soaking wet with a very dry and confident looking Buddy standing next to him.)
ICE: Father seemed to turn those tables on him right after I turned the channel.
ZMAC: Kinda the thing with Buddy, it is hard for him to look bad. The guy has his ways that’s for sure...now hit this shit.
(Beckman directs ZMAC over to his outdoor fire pit and begins to build a fire with wood he had protected from under a tarp and some kilning that has stayed tried under a pine tree. The two partners don’t share many words as the sparks catch flame and begin to burn. It isn’t long after that for ZMAC to really get the party going like a magician using his bag of tricks. ICE leans back on his log, watching the clouds part ways to show a clear blanket of stars above.)
ICE: Great timing tonight, McMorris.
ZMAC: That is what I fucking do.
ICE: We going to win on Slam this week?
ZMAC: That is what I fucking do.
ICE: Fuck yeah man.
(The two Kings shake hands while the fire’s reflections dance off their confident faces. ICE then looks towards the moon and in a moment of the storm’s silence he hears a wolf howl.)
ICE: I will be right back.
(Beckman walks off into the shadows leaving ZMAC to help get the fire going. ICE walks past the drifts of snow while weaving between the shadows of the night until he finds a clearing in the woods around his cabin. When he is ready he speaks to the Gods who nurtured him as a child, the spirts of the woods who listen to him no matter the hour, his friends and family, the world of Mother Nature.)
ICE: Stupid, Just Fucking Stupid...that is how I think of Armageddon INC. A team of Gonzo, a piece of shit who has allowed the smallest slimmer of success to infect his brain so much that he can suggest such things like that I, the creator of the ICE AGE, the winner of One and the World Title survivor of ONE has down nothing to impress him....
FUCK Gonzo along that logic your career consists of nothing more than one lucky win, a duct-taped stable and a whole bunch of 90210 like drama that you have patch worked into what you are calling a career.
You see Gonzo when it comes to facts and reasons you are drained. Your reasoning is on life support, a delusional state that you seem to have learned from Steeltoe. Or was it the never has been Eric Price that has taught you these foggy skills of incompetence meets delusion. A valley that I saw Cairo plow the week of ONE must be the place where your group is beginning to plant their bullshit seeds in the minds of those who see nothing but whatever false world is painted in front of their eyes.
You think you can talk down about my career like a fool think he can make a ladder without steps. For each world you speak, you goal I have hurdled that still stand in front of you doesn’t show where I am currently living, but rather it shows how little the mountain you and your Steeltoe Blow-hard have truly created here in the WCF.
Like quick sand you insult my many, MY MANY, fucking accomplishments without not even understanding how much your own words are burying you. You think you can talk a good game, you think you can melt the ICE AGE, but your actions and your hopes are farther apart than Steeltoe is from being a true contender for the World title.
For respect is something I demand, but not something I expect, and Gonzo, with your insane downplaying and psycho up chucking of your buddy Steeltoe’s suicide mission is not admirable, but simply moronic. It shows that when we come blow to blow in the ring, I will not only use my ability to bounce back that I proved against Cairo, but the strength and power I bring each and every week that has led to me being the best, not only with the ways of submission but with the imagination of power, that I will bring you down just like I have Steeltoe Joe each and every time we have faced each other in the ring...
And all this brings me to Steeltoe...the man I have made bleed out worse than the Roman’s did Jesus, more than Satan will the holy creator...then man who dares look at me like he belongs.
Keep walking that walk Joe, but be careful of the monsters, saints and Godfathers who might be unhappy with you walking into the line that forms behind me. I mean they have fought for it, they have scraped their way along the path, full of bumps and holes, they haven’t gotten to this spot by praying for the will of the people’s favor to blow your way.
But you holding hope to your failed past has been cute, your insentient dream of the future has been laughable, but those are subjects I have already spoken about tonight. So let’s put all those facts and truths about the ICE AGE and the freeze out of the Holy Flame aside and let me talk about why I really fucking hate the man you are, Joe.
Maybe it is the residue of drugs that lingers in my brain, maybe it the fresh scent of the world of clean living that has graced my self-worth for the first time in years...but maybe it has all cleared way like a scorch earth based policy plan, leaving myself red and raw and ready to shake hands with the simple truth.
ICE FUCING BECKMAN IS JUST BETTER THAN STEELTOE JOE.
Did you hear me Joe? Or is your falsified God still making the angels play their harps loud enough to drown out the harsh evidence of reality? For when I see how dusty and stale your message is, it makes me want to vomit, hell maybe I will vomit on you Slam this week. Just to show the wrestling universe how truly sick of you I am.
You think you have earned my shot? Why, because you tricked Chelsea out of the best thing the People’s Championship has ever known? Or maybe it was because you were able to beat the joke of the WCF in able to earn that title? Or maybe it is because you think Seth sees you as a warrior, as a champion worthy of ME....however Joe, you are nothing more than a play thing for Seth, for the ICE AGE and the Vapor Kings. Nothing more than a stone along my footpath, nothing more than a rock on my mountain, nothing more than a layer of hype that Seth can use to help build me up for my next truly big match.
Nothing more than Nothing waiting to happen...that is what you are Joe. That is what Seth knows, that is what Buddy preaches, that is the true good word you should be listening to, rather than wasting your time seeking answers from the book that has plenty of false stories backed by the accounts of false prophets or partners like Gonzo who can also see his ride coming to an end soon. Fear should be the ally you seek Joe, not help from above, but help from within, from that little voice that is reminding you that you always will be nothing but a joke to those who matter and cannon fodder for true Champions like me who are making a true blast in the halls of WCF history.
But our one on one date has already been set in stone, much like cancer patients soon to be tombstones...sorry Gonzo...too soon?
(ICE smiles at the evilness that tingles up his spinal cord.)
ICE: So Armageddon INC. be ready for the end of your worlds, for the fire and brimstone you both seem to play with will soon be raining down in a shit storm over your inflated heads. And when you look up towards the heavens you will only see Kings smiling down upon you and we you look down for cover among the flames you will only find Vapor ready to choke the life out of you. For come SLAM this week no matter where you seek salvation, you will only find death. So tread lightly into your next valley Gonzo, Joe...for hate you cannot conquer will soon over run your paths.
(ICE walks back towards ZMAC as the chill in the air is no longer the concern to ICE, rather his focus is back on his AGE as Champion and being a part of the Vapor King’s historic legacy still climbing towards peaks yet unseen.)
And an behalf of comics everywhere one left message for all the fans of the ICE AGE and Freedom of Speech...
#JeSuisCharlie
The Big Chill
(Natural ICE Beckman is examining the frost on his furry beard and mustache with help from the tip of his warm tongue. He walks forward, a man strong against the wind, a champion not afraid of any spirits, weather from the clouds of heavens or the fires of hell or threats of an Armageddon to come.)
ICE: The Great Lord of Wrestling spoke to me...he told me after the third R-Cairo...that I am the savior of the WCF, the new Piped Piper, the New Columbus of the Ringmat’s Oceans and the New Magellan of the Main Event Currents, frankly...I am...
(The wind blows across the lens of the camera causing ICE to be lost for a few moments in a breeze of fresh fallen snow. The wind soon dies down and reveals ICE Beckman smiling against the brisk cold with the same cocky attitude that climbed the Whoop Ass ladder, outlasted the great Pimp and defeated the once Father of the Pro Wrestling Gods.)
ICE: Seems like nature is speaking to me...or perhaps he is speaking to the WCF about a lesson I already know to be true, a lesson many of you have learned or are currently hiding in the shadows to avoid like a child might a doctor visit or a criminal might the long arm of the law. A lesson that hangs in the air that freezes like a vapor attacking the very air you need to be alive. A lesson that some need pounded into their thick skulls so many times their head wounds may bleed a frozen mass of reality, yet they continue to walk down the path of cold like a coma patient who has escaped his bed’s restraints.
(Again the wind kicks, bringing with it another blast of cold and snow. Again ICE smiles and faces the wind like it somehow is warming his soul, but the true fire that keeps ICE alive in the thought of Joe and Deuce thinking they belong across the ring from him, the World Champion and the Undead and Unreal Warrior of whatever world he chooses to Dominate, Zombie McMorris.)
ICE: And here I am standing outside during a cold blast that has stricken America’s north with a smile on my face and a thoughts of murder dancing like gumdrops in my head, yet in my upcoming match...me and the Shootmaster of the Underworld of WCF...are the Sane ones.
(ICE chuckles at the ridiculous words as the exit his mouth.
ICE: That is right, the Kings on the Throne of the WCF, high on whatever illegal journey we can get our hands on are the SANE ones when it comes to the state of our next victims; Steeltoe Jesus Joe and Weirdo “Number 2 in the Bathroom” MurCock. A couple of fools who play around with the concept of the end of the world like it’s a prayer they long for in their hopes and dreams. For what is that old rule that these pair of jokers have missed, a timeless tale learned from histories past, I think it goes...”Only an insane person does the same thing over and over and expects different results” Hence Ladies, Gentleman and Jobbers at home, I present to you the Insane Brains of the WCF, Armageddon Inc.
(ICE feels the chilly breeze tickle the back of his neck, but rather than hunching his shoulders for warmth, he zips down his jacket zipper a bit in order to let the winter party come in to play with the cells that like to tingle on the muscles of the best shit the WCF has ever seen wear it’s Golden Crown of the WCF Universe.)
ICE: But while insanity and hope unites them, the real world is rushing towards them like a title wave of pain combined with a tsunami of regret to follow. For one boasts about dominance over a division he had been handed and the other will brag about a country that he has conquered, but truly in the end, the moment the dust settles and the dawns early light bring truth upon the night they will both remember the times when they dared tried to stand against the force of the ICE AGE, they have failed...and here they are again, insane enough to think this time the results will be different.
(A gust of wind cuts across the frozen lake and right into the face of Your World Champion. ICE lets the bitterness taste the white of his teeth and inhales back a familiar gust of icy opinion from Mother Nature.)
ICE: Crazy ass morons, riding on the wings of hopes with the words of babes trickling from their uneducated mouths. A Steeltoe riddle I have solved before, a report from a sick man that I have squashed before...two insane rodeo clowns lighting a future for chaos who soon will only find dead intentions on the other side of their fuse.
(ICE can feel the cold temperature sink lower from the tips of his exposed fingers, he can taste the extreme cold overcoming his town with ripples of a biting breeze and he knows the ICE AGE has truly taken over his world and those who dare trek against him are somewhere Bobby is stroking the wrong belt while Steeltoe forgets his only real purpose with the addictive thoughts of the belt that became better the second ICE Beckman let his AGE of ICE get to fucking work.)
ICE: But let them come, like soldiers trained to keep moving forward across the battlefield, for no matter the odds forming in front of them, they must keep moving...and that is the moment where the Kings come into play. That is where their hope becomes ash against the wind as the truth finally strikes them down, that is the time and place where children cry for what they wanted has turned to nothing. That is the moment where the whole World gets it...a moment that has happened before with STJ and his blind followers...but the true question isn’t: will Joe win this time, but actually...Will Joe finally learn his place as a People’s Gutter Champion, but little more.
(ICE Beckman feels the hate crawl up towards his brain like Buddy Roman himself is whipping in to climb and climb until it finds its true home. ICE no longer feels the cold and instead has the image of Steeltoe laid upon his self-made cross, blood dripping from his big mouth while his right hand consular reports to him nothing new, nothing unexpected, but none the less extremely harsh news that the world he tried to grow up has vomited him back out like the unwanted disease he always was.)
ICE: So talk big Steeltoe, talk of heavenly words and God like announcements, for when the Kings have citied you as a foe it is only a matter of time before you are nothing more than children’s chalk drawings being washed away in a rain. For to be honest Gonzo, you are a lucky fuck riding high on the winds of good chance, a place from which you soon will fall with a sickening thud, but it is you Steeltoe Joe that truly that is the one a path to distress; for it is you, a man who stands tall in the mind of the people, but who will always struggles when the lights of the main moment is upon them.
(ICE looks across the ice on the lake, the dancing snow in the wind and the clear stars that begins to show itself with the help of parting clouds.)
ICE: It is you Steeltoe that I have had enough of, you that I am sick of, you that keep coming back like a vermin creature of your shit Lord, you, Steeltoe Joe, that I plan to end one way or another.
(ICE walks back towards his cabin as the glory of nature responds to words of the ICE AGE like the fucking gold remarks they are with a strong gust of harsh wind and an encompassing feeling of cold as ICE steps into his slightly warmer lake porch. He begins to take off his jacket as old transistor radio spews information over the Foam Lake area airwaves.)
FM Radio: Welcome back to Foam Lake FM, we will be getting right to that request from a Mr. PJ for “I’m too Sexy” by something known as Right Said Fred, right after this announcement.
(ICE stops to listen, his cute smile forming the chipmunk like cheeks of his face as he cleans his bread of castaway frost.)
FM Radio: Attention all Foam Lake school students and children, tomorrow Schools Are Closed.
(A high pitch cheer can be heard from the frozen shores all around the lake. ICE smiles at their youthful glee, remembering his own joy in such a forthcoming day as the broadcaster keeps up his breaking news.)
FM Radio: Yes, for one of the coldest days in recent North Wisconsin history is on its way to our fake lake town and while we are a hearty bunch, I promise you this will be a true deep freeze like little of us have ever experienced before. Stay Warm Foam Lake, Stay Warm.
(ICE smiles at the simple remark, knowing his wishes are meant for snapping shoulders and smashing skulls, not such a trivial thing as the blessings of winter.)
ICE: All I need to warm myself is the thoughts of gushing failure from the team of Armageddon and...of course some drugs and a drink...
(ICE walks into the main room of his lake cabin to find a fire roaring in the fireplace and nervous looking skinny nerd pacing back and forth. Dee stops the moment he sees Your WCF World Champion looking down at him.)
DEE: ICE...hey...hi...um, there is no problem, why do you ask?
ICE: I didn’t fucking ask.
DEE: Good, I mean Good, I mean fine, okay, fine.
ICE: What the shit is up with you? Did PJ vomit in my shower again?
DEE: No...I mean yes, I mean no...I mean...um.
ICE: Fuck this, I need a drink.
DEE: NOOOOO!!!
ICE: What the fuck did you just say to me?
DEE: NO, as in French for Yes.
ICE: Well shit, I pride myself on not knowing a lick of French, so I will have to take your word for that...plus it sounds stupid; just like French people.
DEE: So yeah...so wanna play WCF Scrabble? I mean it does come from the line of Drunk Money INC. board games after all.
ICE: Sure, just let me get a fucking drink first.
(DEE puckers up his face like a man might on his first day of prison as ICE Beckman makes his way over to his in-house homemade bar set up. But after ICE finds a glass he finds...nothing else...no whiskey, no beer, no booze, No Nothing!!!)
ICE: Where is all my fucking booze and beer?
DEE: Well, ICE, you drank it all.
ICE: Of fucking course I drank it all, I am the True Drunk, The Whoop ASS Ladder Champ, The Drinking Champion of the FUCKING World...but I still always have reserves on the way.
DEE: Well, um, the shipment was delayed, because of the weather. The truck slide off the road and almost took out a school yard full of children.
ICE: WHAT THE FUCK?!?
DEE: Don’t worry, the kids and truck driver were okay.
ICE: But What ABOUT THE BOOZE?!?
DEE: Well...um, it is not coming....But hey, in my defense, PJ didn’t even want to tell you!
(ICE Beckman looks towards his kitchen to see the chunky PJ duck back behind the wall.)
ICE: I have a big match this week, the fucking reputation of the Vapor Kings is on the line, the glory of Buddy and the accession of McMorris is at stake, and You Want Me to Do This Fucking Sober!!
DEE: Don’t worry, I found a few other things around your place that might “make do” for alcohol.
(DEE gestures at ICE’s coffee table that has a bed sheet draped over it.)
ICE: No fucking booze for a few nights? Then that better be Chelsea naked under a mound of cocaine under that sheet.
DEE: Well it is not that...but it is the best I could do.
(Dee pulls back the sheet with the flare his 7th grade magician classes taught him; however ICE is not impressed with what has been exposed before him on the table as intoxication options.)
ICE: So I am supposed to get fucking drunk and think all night about killing Steeltoe Blow and Bonzo the Shit-Clown with help from these things...a mixology drink making book, a bag of M&Ms and a half empty bottle of mouth wash?
DEE: I will have you know that there is alcohol in the mouth wash.
ICE: Really?
(ICE grabs the bottle of mouth wash and is just about to chug it when he looks back at Dee.)
ICE: Wait, who the fuck's mouthwash is this?
DEE: Um, me...and...my moms.
(Beckman throws the open bottle of teeth cleaner at Dee.)
ICE: Fuck This Shit.
PJ: (Peaking around the corner.)...Can I have those M&Ms if you aren’t going to eat them ICE?
ICE: Do whatever the Fuck you want, it is time to go to the bar.
DEE: Hey, hate to be the barrier of bad news.
ICE: WHAT the FUCK NOW?!
DEE: Um, I mean Hey PJ, tell him about the bars.
PJ: How they are all closed due to frozen water pipes?
ICE: SO no fucking alcohol delivery, no fucking bars for miles....in these moments I look to a higher power...and by that I mean Fucking Drugs.
(Natural pulls open his drug drawer on a nearby cabinet to find Mother Hubbard’s empty drug stash. ICE feels the emptiness for himself before looking back to his friends who are reacting like he is a time bomb soon to go off.)
ICE: So, then I need drugs, time to call my dealer Eddie.
DEE: Well, we, um tried.
PJ: EDDIE IS DEAD!!
ICE: What the fuck?
DEE: He isn’t dead, but well, he might be by now, but he wasn't last time we talked to him.
(ICE is quick to find his phone and presses the In Case of Emergency button in order to give Eddie the Dealer a quick ring.)
Ring...Ring...Ring...
Eddie: Hello man?
ICE: Eddie?
Eddie: Yeah, hey man, please-
ICE: So you aren’t fucking dead?
Eddie: No man, but my car isn’t starting, and I am on highway in the middle of no wh-
ICE: Good you’re alive; now do you have drugs?
Eddie: I lost to them a pack of angry raccoons, but if you could just call for help for me, I would apper-
ICE: SO no drugs?
Eddie: Yes, but I think I am going to die soon, I am super cold and I hear wolves nearby.
(ICE Beckman hangs up the phone as the rage begins to title wave his spirit and he must think of the voice of his father Roman in order to conquer the seas of rage.)
ICE: Fuck me. This is night is going to be worse than having to fight Steeltoe for a third time. But there is still one option, getting the fuck out of town.
PJ: Can I come with you?
ICE: No.
PJ: If I promise not to talk can I come with you?
ICE: No talking? Hmmmm....it's still a no.
(Beckman walks out into the last bit of daylight hanging in the bitter winter air. He finishes putting on his jean jacket as he crunches himself through the hard snow. He fumbles for the keys in his pocket as he sees the side of the truck and smiles with the thought of Steeltoe’s head ramming into it. He then goes around the front of the truck, seeing the large blue hood that would be perfect for slamming the spine of Gonzo onto. ICE jumps into the cab of the truck with a groan from the frozen shocks before Beckman cranks the ignition...and the engine roars, growls and stops. ICE tries again...more roaring, more growling and a another harsh shut down.)
ICE: Even my fucking truck is dead...and soon so is my buzz.
(And then it truly and really hits ICE...like it might someday for Steeltoe and the World Title picture...the truth of it all...ICE Beckman is stuck with sobriety.
Or that is at least what he thought...
A nearly full moon departs from the clouds in the night sky. Somewhere a pack of wolves talks to another with howls and the gusts of winds strain across the layers of snow that have building up over the last few hours of precipitation. There is one thing that be heard over the wind, the howls, the noisy world of nature...a mumbling of curses and determined effort come with each step as the promo pans down from the nearly full moon to see a WCF King walking towards Foam Lake.)
ZMAC: Cold...snow...frost advisory...more of a joke than Gonzo’s America.
(The trail of snow shows ZMAC’s badass trek through the woods from a bid eye’s view from above the tall frosted pines of the northern Wisconsin woods as the promo shifts back to...
...ICE Beckman still sitting in his dead truck with a energy that is very much alive and coursing through his sobering veins. ICE breathes in as much oxygen as his lungs will hold.)
ICE: Fuck Joe and Gonzo!!!
(ICE Beckman tenses up with the image of sobriety on his reality’s horizon. Your World Champ then grabs the steering wheel of his pickup truck and with little effort thanks to the rage warming his inside ICE rips the wheel right from the steering column. He calmly places the steering wheel in the passenger’s side of the truck before exhaling with a mountain of aggravating reasons to hate his world around him.)
ICE: Rage and anger...hate and passion...wants and needs...things I know, things Joe thinks he knows and outcomes only the true God of fate can present to the world. I don’t want to be sober, but it is too fucking cold to go anywhere...Steeltoe wants to beat the ICE Age, but he is too much of a mid-card joker to succeed in such a task. Now is that meant to sound like an insult? Fucking shit yeah it is, and why would I not think like that, my history of Joe has been me scraping me off my boot and while Gonzo might have the title I made famous around his waist, he only knows me as the man who carried him to a victory at Halloween and the top dog in which to fear the most here in this junkyard of a federation.
(ICE sighs and feel the rush of sobriety sting at his wits causing him to remember things he drank to forget and memories that he smoked to smoke out of his conscious world.)
ICE: But while I know from the lessons of Father Roman and the teaching of my large pile of WCF victories, I have confidence, but not oversight. I know Steeltoe is hanging onto a thin hope of his courage rope with a pray and a wish and if I allow just a moment of actual success in the ring against me to enter his belief system that I may just find a resurrected Joe combined with a dramatic wild card looking to do anything in order to prove himself...and that is why I trust my strength, my power and the best fucking talented sleeking along the halls, a man Seth has tried to bury, a man that don’t stay down no matter how many refs try to screw him or how much figurative soil they try to throw onto him to keep him down, Zombie McMorris is ready to taste success at is ready to keep a wake of bodies in his path. Steeltoe and Gonzo might think they are destiny’s newest sweet babe, but ZMAC and I are creatures who have both feasted on such optimism many times in our careers as Kings. And nothing will change that come Slam...not an Over-rated Flame, a Dramatic Deuce Poo or even Soberness.
(ICE leans back in the truck’s seat, feeling pain begin to pulse in ring wounds, feeling a fog lift from his mental atmosphere and the cold begin to seek in...but unlike the first two things, the cold is a welcome feeling to dance on his soul. ICE breaths it in, so much that the frost tingles the tips of lungs and tortures his heart with a bear hug like a small child loving their strong papa. ICE smiles, somehow this is going to be okay, somehow he is going to get through this night of clean living.)
ICE: I mean, really...how bad can being sober be?
(Beckman opens the truck’s door and steps back down onto his icy driveway. He walks through the weather feeling the effects of the middle of winter like he might feel the effects of a bong hit, a beer chug or a whiskey shot. He walks through the front door of his cabin almost happy while thinking about Gonzo tapping and Joe a rapping against the ring mat. But his optimistic attitude about no drugs and booze is quick to fade away as he sees the awful world of being sober staring him in the face as he watches DEE and PJ begin to argue on the cabin’s couch.)
PJ: DEE! Stop it I want to be ICE in this next match!!
DEE: Well I got him first, besides last time we played the WCF Video Game you got to be ICE every time!!
PJ: Either let me be ICE or I will date your Mom, Dee!!
DEE: You wouldn’t dare?
PJ: Really because I love how she reminds me of my Own Mom!!
DEE: Fine, be ICE in the game, but promise me you will never date my mom or tell me any of your sick thoughts about her.
PJ: Now even my dream last night where she was a nurse and I had a bad case of cold penis-...Hey, ICE is Back!!! Did you come back for me?
ICE: Shut the fuck up...now where the fuck is the mouthwash?
DEE: PJ just finished chugging it.
ICE: You have to be fucking kidding me.
PJ: I don’t get it ICE man, you always have a big bag of shrooms and weed stashed away I thought.
ICE: Fuck, that reminds me.
DEE: That it is my Birthday?
ICE: No, not fucking that.
DEE: Oh, because it is.
PJ: Stop being so selfish Dee! ICE was about to say something.
ICE: I just remembered what I did with that weed and shrooms. Wait, I just fucking remembered something, I knew this sobriety shit would be crap.
DEE: What did you do with them...sell them for my present?
ICE: Dee, shut the fuck up. And as for what I did with those drugs, well I was trying to prepare for Gonzo, a journalist who does a lot of THC, so I went and found-
(But before ICE can finish his statement there is a pounding coming from the bedroom’s door. PJ, DEE and ICE all look over with wonderment as the pounding begins to intensity. ICE waits for it as DEE and PJ let their eyes spring wide as a landmark of WCF television comes bursting out of the bedroom...Mr. Hank Brow...who is riding the rainbow highway of make believe images under a firework show of tripping.)
Hank Brown: I am the Lizard King...or am I Hank...no, I am the LIZARD KING!!!
DEE: WCF man on the street, reporter to all and insight seeker to the stars...Mr. Hank Brown.
ICE:...don’t forget the Lizard King.
PJ: And look at him, he is higher than a kite!
ICE: Fucking lucky prick.
Hank Brown: I am high...no I am not high, I am the Lizard King the guardian of everything that mother nature sees as holy.
DEE: And hanging out with this guy is going to help you beat Gonzo Deuce?
ICE: I thought so, but that is back before sobriety began to creep upon my like that kiss from that crazy aunt everyone has.
PJ: I thought you didn’t have a family, ICE.
ICE: I didn’t but now I have Orbit, Chelsea and Buddy, oh shit Father Roman!!
Hank Brown: Buddy Roman? The Buzz Killer himself...wait, buzz, bryan, is that two timing stealing story fuck around here....because if so, I think I would like to punch him in the face...no wait, I think I want to hug him...but since he isn’t around, you will do.
(Hank Brown begins to hug a Dee, a skinny nerd who is not use to the feeling of human contact unless it is coming from the flabby arms of his extremely large and over bearing mother.)
DEE: Um, ICE, please help me.
ICE: Not now, I just realized I forgot about something with Father Roman.
(Beckman pulls out his phone, the echoing of a headache beginning to ring in his head like church bells do in the mind of Steeltoe for every little accomplishment he has, weather that is pissing with minimal splash back or defeating Jobber Villain and his band of merry push-overs.)
PJ: Wait, did you do something to make Buddy Roman mad? Because if so, I am not taking the blame for it; last time you did that the guy made me eat a box of used tampons from the ladies room as punishment for even trying to talk to him.
ICE: Well, lucky my Daddy loves me...or I hope he still does. Fucking shit crap sobriety making me forget things!!!
DEE: What did you forget?...Also, can anyone stop this hug already?
Hank Brown: God himself can’t stop our love hug man.
ICE: Father and I were supposed to be on this show tonight to promote my match at Slam this week.
PJ: What show?
ICE: Jerry Gerry and the Jerky Bunch.
DEE: Wait, that is just a prank show! Where they invite people on only to prank them!! Also, enough Hank Brown....(tries to push Hank’s love hug away)...wow, this guy is strong!
Hank Brown: No I am not, you are just very weak, but I still LOVE you.
(ICE begins to check the texts in his phone and gulps as he sees four missed messages from his beloved father and wrestling career mentor. ICE’s face, usually flushed with rosy cheeks and a trademark smile seems more like a man who just his future begin to burn in front of his very own eyes.
Meanwhile at TV studio in the Chicago area Buddy Roman is finishing his latest disappointment text his to World Champion son. When a producer comes up to him and tells him it is time for him to go on the set for the show. Roman walks into the bright lights of the studio with his usual confidence despite the fact the original game plan for the show have gone awry thanks to his missing son, Natural. Buddy shakes the hand of the host of the show, a man he instantly judges to be a weasel of a man not worthy of his time, but Roman is a man of business and he sees the cameras upon him as free air time to spread the good word of his creation, his love affair, The Vapor Kings.)
Jerry Gerry: Hello and Welcome to our show Buddy Roman!!
Buddy Roman: Indeed, I am happy to have this opportunity to speak on my Stable of the Year.
Jerry Gerry: Well, speaking of them...where is your big, bad, World Champion? Mr. ICE Beckman?
Buddy Roman: He seems to be a bit delayed.
Jerry Gerry: Probably super drunk and wasted somewhere knowing him, right?
(Buddy doesn’t bother to respond to what he finds as an insulting and degrading comment about the man he both fights for his with words and loves with his big passionate heart.
Back to where ICE Beckman is feeling the last bit of booze sweat itself out from the usually un-pure pours of the WCF World Champion as he paces back and forth trying to get his phone to work while DEE paces behind him like a good puppy dog does. PJ meanwhile is on the couch with a stoned Hank Brown who is reading the back of his own hands like an engineer might unexplored terrain.)
Hank Brown: How long have I had these small hills on my hand?
PJ: I think they are called knuckles.
DEE: What are you texting him back?
ICE: Just a warning and a-...HOLY SHIT!!! My phone just died. I forgot to fucking Charge IT!!!
DEE: But you never forget anything?! Well I mean you forgot my Birthday and my Mom’s Birthday and My Anniversary of my SIMs character getting married.
ICE: Well you know the old phrase; Soberness is the Worst Thing Ever.
PJ: That doesn’t sound like a popular phrase.
Hank Brown: I love the way you chin’s ripple like waves when you speak PJ.
PJ: Really? How nice of you to say.
Hank Brown: By the way ICE Man, thank you for having me over, I am loving this whole thing. From your big smelly friend here to the creep who keeps peeping into the windows.
ICE: I can’t wait to dig my thumbs into Joe’s eyes, or better yet I will make him Tap Out and then dig my thumbs into his temples until his over-rated face explodes like fucking jam in my hands!!!
DEE: Wow, being sober is making you way more mean then any drug.
PJ: Wait, I just saw the guy in the window that Hank is seeing.
Hank Brown: I can hear him too, his teeth are chattering louder than mine do when I have to interview Oblivion.
DEE: Who would be out in this super-duper cold night?
ICE: it is probably just fucking Buck Fucker.
PJ: No way he is down in Milwaukee for the Adult Pokemon Convention.
DEE: Wait, what is the Adult Pokemon Convention? And why wasn’t I invited?
PJ: He said it was something where adults dress up like Pokemon characters.
DEE: That sounds awesome!!!
PJ: And then have lots of sex with one another.
DEE: That sounds gross.
Hank Brown: I would get fucked by Pikachu. He seems nice and huggable.
ICE: No one fucking cares Hank.
Hank Brown: Well you asked.
ICE: No I didn’t, and for the record Hank your hugs suck.
Hank Brown: That makes my rainbow shine with only the blue colors of sadness.
ICE: Wait, I just saw a fucking face out there...time to pull an anit-Steeltoe Joe and Do Something about this shit right fucking now!!!
(Beckman runs out of his wooden cabin and into the deep freeze currently circling the earth.)
DEE: I thought the anti-Steeltoe Joe was the anti-Christ.
PJ: I thought Steeltoe Joe was the anti-Christ?
Hank Brown: No, it just seems like that when you have to watch his promos!!
(Hank Brown...well stoned off his mic, Hank Brown begins to giggle at the words he just released onto the ears of those around him as we find ICE Beckman dragging a stranger back into the warm cabin by a thin little arm connected to a whiney, but scrappy, guy. ICE throws him down into the ugly shag carpeting along with a snot rocket. The little guy begins to roll around the floor while softly praying to himself for help as the rest of the Drunk Money Crew and the fucked up Hank brown circle around him.)
DEE: Who is he?
PJ: If I had to guess, he is a human being.
DEE: Obviously he is a Human Being!!
Hank Brown: Don’t assume anything my love child, for he may be our God or at least an alien from the moon or maybe he is my pants come to life.
ICE: Everyone shut the fuck up...(ICE grabs the guy dressed in all black)...now who the fuck are you?
STJ Super Fan: Just call me STJ Super Fan.
PJ: Holy shit, be careful he has an STJ!!! He probably got if from a hooker! Or worse my Ex-wife!!
DEE: He said STJ, not STD.
ICE: Same fucking thing.
STJ Super Fan: And that is exactly why I have come here, to end you in the name of the People’s Pastor!!
(ICE grabs the skinny man laid out on his floor and begins to choke him until his face turns red from anger to red from a lack of oxygen getting to his face.)
DEE: NO ICE! Don’t kill him!!
ICE: Why not?
Hank Brown: Because peace and love, right Dee?
DEE: No because he is a skinny nerd, but still a grown man, just like I am.
STJ Super Fan: No, I am a Steeltoe Joe Super Fan, and I am here to kill ICE BECKMAN!!!
PJ: No you’re not, I mean why would anyone ever think that?
(The awkward situation in the Foam Lake cabin for YOUR World Champion takes a break for everyone to collect their thoughts. The only thought running through ICE mind is pure, simple and straight to the point: Will this Fucking Night of No Drugs Ever End?
And somewhere in the woods, powering through the snow it thick black boots and ripped off denim shorts, is a man who doesn’t even hunch over for more warm from his leather coat, but just keeps moving forward no matter the strength of the wind punching him in the face over and over. His only response to the horrible conditions is the following hate filled phrase.)
ZMAC: Honey Badger don’t give a shit.
(He continues under the grey clouds as we remember that somewhere else in the great portion of American known as the Midwest Buddy Roman is about to speak his genius fucking mind.
The bright lights seem to be getting brighter as the dweeb known as Jerry Gerry keeps bothering the great Buddy Roman with annoying questions. Buddy is waiting for his moment, but inside he is a ticking timebomb with a fuse that is burning shorter with each mind-numbing interaction with this brain dead and youthful host.)
Jerry Gerry: Now we want to ask you about Chelsea and ICE and-
Buddy Roman: Shut up right now.
Jerry Gerry: But this is my show, I can-
Buddy Roman: No. Shut up.
Jerry Gerry:.....
Buddy Roman: Natural ICE Beckman and Zombie McMorris are perfect knit team bound with their love of a chaotic view to the world and the hungry to always be ready to a fight, a battle, a War. And in the places where they link they world together to help one another while at the same time making the stable stronger. Where ICE is creative and fun in the ring, ZMAC is ruthless and fears no situation. Together they are one, united like brothers with their respect for my ability to lead and bound together like dictators over the federation of the WCF, their Kingdom between the ropes.
(Buddy continues to look into the camera, his expression matching the intensity of his words. Meanwhile behind him Jerry Gerry’s bag of misfits has begun to sneak up behind Buddy carrying a large Gatorade cooler. Buddy continues, keeping his words and vision focused on the lost souls of Gonzo and Steeltoe. Jerry tries to his best not to snicker as he only peeks at his friends creeping up.)
Buddy Roman: As for the short straw pickers that is named after their fate, Armageddon INC. A team composed of two men only united and bound by a need to survive in a world created by my warriors. They did not come together when the moment was just right, no, rather they are a faction that only begin viewing the world the same for the blood that was dripping down their faces. Steeltoe Joe is a hack, a piece of poser vermin that has clung to the WCF like a bottom feeding barnacle. And his partner Gonzo is a mix of luck and ass backwards talent. Two men who wear WCF Gold made from dust, ready to blow away from them as soon as their winds of fortune change direction and they are left, naked, alone and at the bottom of the WCF feeding bowl. Their downfalls begin this week on Slam and my big smile will be watching it with pride overflowing in my soul.
Jerry Gerry: And speaking of Over-Flowing...Boys...1...2...
(Buddy just begins to turn around moments before three.
ICE slams his fast on the top of the TV’s power button in order to shut it off and see no more of the program. Beckman turns quickly, seeing no tricky trails in his vision, only pure crisp lines that make up his ugly collection friends and companions on this frigid night in the northern woods. ICE rubs his eyes feeling anger boiling in his sobriety like a poisoned stew. He opens them to see PJ looking over at the Steeltoe Joe super fan that has been duck taped to a table chair, while PJ himself is sitting on the couch along with Dee and the high flying Hank Brown.)
ICE: Enough of that! It is bad enough I have failed Father, I don’t need to watch it.
PJ: Usually I hate when a TV goes off, but that is fine with me, we need to get back to this little munchkin saying he wants to kill ICE!!
DEE: Fine, I said that once, but ICE had just signed me up for The Girls Scouts!
Hank Brown: They do have lovely cookies.
PJ: I was talking about this Steeltoe Joe Super Fan here.
DEE: Oh, yeah, him.
STJ Super Fan: Are you all high or what?
ICE: I wish.
PJ: Listen up bub, I don’t like the idea of anyone killing ICE but me.
ICE: Fuck yeah- wait, what the fuck did you just say PJ?
PJ: Don’t worry ICE, that isn’t going until me way later in life, when we are roommates at Shady Pines and you ask me to, but let’s focus on this loser for now. Now why do you want to kill the best Wrestler Ever?
STJ Super Fun: Steeltoe Joe is the best People’s Champ ever; hence he is the best wrestler ever. And I am here on a mission from God. He told me in a vision that I needed to kill ICE so Steeltoe could finally become the World Champion.
DEE: A had a vision? Sounds like you are just a kook or a whacko to me.
Hank Brown: Yes, clearly he is crazy, that is a good point talking broom.
PJ: I saw we kill him instead.
Hank Brown: Oh, but I think that may be going too far talking couch.
ICE: Damnit Hank Brown, stop talking about like you are tripping balls, you are fucking making me jealous. Fuck I wish my match started right now so I could pound the good vibes out of Gonzo or grind the holy flame out with the heel of my boot.
STJ Super Fan: You will never beat Joe...again...like you have done twice already. But this time will be different.
ICE: And fuck me for even asking this, but why exactly is that.
STJ Super Fan: Well because Steeltoe says so.
ICE: He fucking said so last time, what Makes THIS TIME DIFFERENT!!!
(ICE grabs the super fan by the hair and is yelling at him with a face so fed Santa could guide his sleigh by it. The tension in the room is thicker than Bobby Cairo before he ever heard the name Natural ICE Beckman, thicker than the love between Seth and his money, thicker than Joe’s dumbass head. Until...)
Hank Brown: Has anyone here every made love to their pet?
(Even ICE’s rage drains away with that simple disgusting and offensive question.)
Hank Brown: Not that I have...I am just saying...I am a alone a lot and my cat really seems to like me and the last date I went on ended with a restraining order.
PJ: Yeah, join the club man.
Hank Brown: Are you lonely as well Pillsbury dough boy...wait, since when do you wear clothes?
STJ Super Fan: This is why Steeltoe Joe will take your title, this is why him and Gonzo will beat you at Slam this week, because you spend all your free time hanging out with freaks like this.
ICE: Ha God Boy! I have been hanging out with losers, freaks and dorks my whole life and all it has got me is this!!
(ICE shoves the World title in the face of the loyal fan of the People’s Champ.)
ICE: Do you see it, do you smell it, do you feel it?!? For right now in this moment you are closer to this than Steeltoe will EVER BE!!
PJ: YEAHHH!!!!
(Again the intense moments sparked by ICE’s clear mind and his simple hateful thoughts that keep running through his usually bombed out brain comes to an irrupt ending.)
Hank Brown: You guys know what I really want in life?
DEE: Hopefully not another hug; my shoulders still hurt from the last one you gave me.
Hank Brown: No, what I really want is someone to ask me a question.
ICE: Why don’t you go fuck yourself Hank?!!
Hank Brown: While that is a question, not exactly what I was looking for, but at least now I can say I have talked with a talking bear before, now tell me talking bear, how do you feel about your upcoming match this weekend?
ICE: Hank, thank you being just like Gonzo Deuce.
Hank Brown: You are welcome, also I am confused. Not only by the fact that your head is on fire; but also why are you thanking me?
ICE: Because hanging out with you has prepared me for Gonzo perfectly, I have no idea what you about to say, but I still don’t fear your non-sense bull-shot words. Just like Gonzo I don’t know if he is going to break down and cry in the ring, laugh and shout like a mad man, or actually try to hurt me...hence I have learned the best way to deal with Gonzo, is the same best way to deal with any reporter, give them nothing to use against you while at the same time punching them right in their big fucking mouths.
PJ: YEAHHH!!!!
Hank Brown: YEAAHHHH!!!
(Hank Brown a mix of confusion, drugs and the moment losses himself in the radiating hate of ICE Beckman, closes his eyes to a world of ghouls dancing about him and then swings like a mad man...knocking DEE right in the teeth with a crazy haymaker punch!!)
DEE: OUCHIE!!! Gosh darn that hurt.
Hank Brown: Oh my GOD!! I THINK I JUST PUNCHED MY DEAD GRANDMOTHER!!!
STJ Super Fan: You All are CRAZY!!!!
PJ: YELLING IS FUN!!!
ICE: Everyone Shut The Fuck Up!
Hank Brown: Am I an Everyone? Or are we all everyone? Whoa...deep thoughts, right God?
ICE: I am not God Hank...a God, but not thee God.
STJ Super Fan: Yeah, that is the Son of Steel, the Pastor of Disaster, the son of the creator himself...Steeltoe Joe!!!
ICE: And you fucking know what STJ Asshole Fan or whatever you call yourself, thank you fucking as well, for you have reminded me that Steeltoe is a crazy ass fuck who thinks of himself as a delusional asshole God who despite his life in the gutter sees nothing but a yellow brick round beneath his feet.
STJ Super Fan: Yeah, Steeltoe Joe, aka the guy who is better than Bobby Cairo!!
ICE: Exactly it is that fucking kind of fucking insanity that has helped me prepared for Joe. A walking tree of a man who reminds me of a dinosaur with his tiny mind and extinct way of life; and you Super Fan seem like you will stick with him, just like he always will, not matter how many time the ICE AGE freezes him out or he steals the one and only title he has ever been made for from the blue storm that waits on the horizon of the WCF. Just another dip-shit can’t hang fuck face whose grave I have dug before and will dig again...now the only real question left for Joe is...who do you want to be buried next to this time Joe? Maybe Livewire? Or Corey Black? How about Seifer or Colin Marshall? Or maybe even Bobby Cairo? For I have sent them all packing in my title reign...now what makes you any different...I am ASKING YOU what Makes STEELTOE Any FUCKING Different?
(ICE feels nothing but hate...no buzz is left, no music playing for his dancing thoughts, no artist painting with vibrant colors across the landscape of his brain, no nothing but the harshness of true, cold reality.)
STJ Super Fan: Yeah, those are good points, but I still believe in Steeltoe Joe. He is the savior of the WCF!
PJ: Uh, I am guessing that was the wrong answer guy.
DEE: Judging from the shade of red in ICE’s face, I am guessing that for sure was the wrong answer.
ICE: It was...but I think I know just how to beat these two metaphors of Armageddon INC.
PJ: Didn’t you already know that? I mean you are better than them already, right? Like you have beat them and stuff.
ICE: Good point, well thanks but no thanks, the Cocktailed Cross-face and 100 Proof shot already know what they are doing.
STJ Super Fan: Well then what now?
ICE: Fuck, I guess I will just punch Gonzo in the gut like this.
(Hank Brown, memorized by the colors in the lights, doesn’t see ICE’s punch coming at all. ICE’s mighty fist lands with a mighty impact into the gut of Hank Brown. Hank smiles, then frowns and then vomits all over the STJ Super Fan who is strapped into the chair.)
ICE: Now that is the perfect ending to this metaphor.
(ICE just listens to the scene play out behind him. The Super Fan crying for freedom, Hank vomiting a second load, DEE screaming for towels and PJ giggling like a school boy with chaos unfolding all around. ICE hears the cabin door shut behind him as he enters the world of cold calmness that has been waiting all night outside his door. ICE feels a clear mind for the first time in years, he tries to think of Chelsea but his sober state drains her away, ICE tries to think of his Father’s love but that too is quick to fade away and just when ICE is about to let sobriety claim his brain for itself he hears a rustling coming from the woods. He wonders if it his dog, or a bear or...best yet...)
ZMAC: Hey there Beckman, what is up?
(Like an angel covered in white from the snow is Zombie McMorris, a pissed off look upon his face and illegal brown bag in his hand.)
ICE: McMorris?
ZMAC: ICE man...want to get high?
ICE: You have no fucking idea how bad I do. But I failed Father Roman.
ZMAC: I’m not sure what you’re talkin’ ‘bout the last text I got from the guy made him seem just fine.
(ZMAC shows ICE a picture on his phone with Buddy standing next to Jerry Gerry. Jerry is laid out on the ground and soaking wet with a very dry and confident looking Buddy standing next to him.)
ICE: Father seemed to turn those tables on him right after I turned the channel.
ZMAC: Kinda the thing with Buddy, it is hard for him to look bad. The guy has his ways that’s for sure...now hit this shit.
(Beckman directs ZMAC over to his outdoor fire pit and begins to build a fire with wood he had protected from under a tarp and some kilning that has stayed tried under a pine tree. The two partners don’t share many words as the sparks catch flame and begin to burn. It isn’t long after that for ZMAC to really get the party going like a magician using his bag of tricks. ICE leans back on his log, watching the clouds part ways to show a clear blanket of stars above.)
ICE: Great timing tonight, McMorris.
ZMAC: That is what I fucking do.
ICE: We going to win on Slam this week?
ZMAC: That is what I fucking do.
ICE: Fuck yeah man.
(The two Kings shake hands while the fire’s reflections dance off their confident faces. ICE then looks towards the moon and in a moment of the storm’s silence he hears a wolf howl.)
ICE: I will be right back.
(Beckman walks off into the shadows leaving ZMAC to help get the fire going. ICE walks past the drifts of snow while weaving between the shadows of the night until he finds a clearing in the woods around his cabin. When he is ready he speaks to the Gods who nurtured him as a child, the spirts of the woods who listen to him no matter the hour, his friends and family, the world of Mother Nature.)
ICE: Stupid, Just Fucking Stupid...that is how I think of Armageddon INC. A team of Gonzo, a piece of shit who has allowed the smallest slimmer of success to infect his brain so much that he can suggest such things like that I, the creator of the ICE AGE, the winner of One and the World Title survivor of ONE has down nothing to impress him....
FUCK Gonzo along that logic your career consists of nothing more than one lucky win, a duct-taped stable and a whole bunch of 90210 like drama that you have patch worked into what you are calling a career.
You see Gonzo when it comes to facts and reasons you are drained. Your reasoning is on life support, a delusional state that you seem to have learned from Steeltoe. Or was it the never has been Eric Price that has taught you these foggy skills of incompetence meets delusion. A valley that I saw Cairo plow the week of ONE must be the place where your group is beginning to plant their bullshit seeds in the minds of those who see nothing but whatever false world is painted in front of their eyes.
You think you can talk down about my career like a fool think he can make a ladder without steps. For each world you speak, you goal I have hurdled that still stand in front of you doesn’t show where I am currently living, but rather it shows how little the mountain you and your Steeltoe Blow-hard have truly created here in the WCF.
Like quick sand you insult my many, MY MANY, fucking accomplishments without not even understanding how much your own words are burying you. You think you can talk a good game, you think you can melt the ICE AGE, but your actions and your hopes are farther apart than Steeltoe is from being a true contender for the World title.
For respect is something I demand, but not something I expect, and Gonzo, with your insane downplaying and psycho up chucking of your buddy Steeltoe’s suicide mission is not admirable, but simply moronic. It shows that when we come blow to blow in the ring, I will not only use my ability to bounce back that I proved against Cairo, but the strength and power I bring each and every week that has led to me being the best, not only with the ways of submission but with the imagination of power, that I will bring you down just like I have Steeltoe Joe each and every time we have faced each other in the ring...
And all this brings me to Steeltoe...the man I have made bleed out worse than the Roman’s did Jesus, more than Satan will the holy creator...then man who dares look at me like he belongs.
Keep walking that walk Joe, but be careful of the monsters, saints and Godfathers who might be unhappy with you walking into the line that forms behind me. I mean they have fought for it, they have scraped their way along the path, full of bumps and holes, they haven’t gotten to this spot by praying for the will of the people’s favor to blow your way.
But you holding hope to your failed past has been cute, your insentient dream of the future has been laughable, but those are subjects I have already spoken about tonight. So let’s put all those facts and truths about the ICE AGE and the freeze out of the Holy Flame aside and let me talk about why I really fucking hate the man you are, Joe.
Maybe it is the residue of drugs that lingers in my brain, maybe it the fresh scent of the world of clean living that has graced my self-worth for the first time in years...but maybe it has all cleared way like a scorch earth based policy plan, leaving myself red and raw and ready to shake hands with the simple truth.
ICE FUCING BECKMAN IS JUST BETTER THAN STEELTOE JOE.
Did you hear me Joe? Or is your falsified God still making the angels play their harps loud enough to drown out the harsh evidence of reality? For when I see how dusty and stale your message is, it makes me want to vomit, hell maybe I will vomit on you Slam this week. Just to show the wrestling universe how truly sick of you I am.
You think you have earned my shot? Why, because you tricked Chelsea out of the best thing the People’s Championship has ever known? Or maybe it was because you were able to beat the joke of the WCF in able to earn that title? Or maybe it is because you think Seth sees you as a warrior, as a champion worthy of ME....however Joe, you are nothing more than a play thing for Seth, for the ICE AGE and the Vapor Kings. Nothing more than a stone along my footpath, nothing more than a rock on my mountain, nothing more than a layer of hype that Seth can use to help build me up for my next truly big match.
Nothing more than Nothing waiting to happen...that is what you are Joe. That is what Seth knows, that is what Buddy preaches, that is the true good word you should be listening to, rather than wasting your time seeking answers from the book that has plenty of false stories backed by the accounts of false prophets or partners like Gonzo who can also see his ride coming to an end soon. Fear should be the ally you seek Joe, not help from above, but help from within, from that little voice that is reminding you that you always will be nothing but a joke to those who matter and cannon fodder for true Champions like me who are making a true blast in the halls of WCF history.
But our one on one date has already been set in stone, much like cancer patients soon to be tombstones...sorry Gonzo...too soon?
(ICE smiles at the evilness that tingles up his spinal cord.)
ICE: So Armageddon INC. be ready for the end of your worlds, for the fire and brimstone you both seem to play with will soon be raining down in a shit storm over your inflated heads. And when you look up towards the heavens you will only see Kings smiling down upon you and we you look down for cover among the flames you will only find Vapor ready to choke the life out of you. For come SLAM this week no matter where you seek salvation, you will only find death. So tread lightly into your next valley Gonzo, Joe...for hate you cannot conquer will soon over run your paths.
(ICE walks back towards ZMAC as the chill in the air is no longer the concern to ICE, rather his focus is back on his AGE as Champion and being a part of the Vapor King’s historic legacy still climbing towards peaks yet unseen.)
And an behalf of comics everywhere one left message for all the fans of the ICE AGE and Freedom of Speech...
#JeSuisCharlie
The Big Chill