The Flashy Faggot
Mar 20, 2016 1:20:26 GMT -5
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Steve Orbit, Joey Flash, and 5 more like this
Post by Logan on Mar 20, 2016 1:20:26 GMT -5
We come to within one of the many houses of Logan. This one being a residence located in Virginia, his home state. He paces back and forth over the hardwood floors of his estate, excited by the fact he had a match against Joey Flash this upcoming Slam.
Logan: Finally at last Joey Flash and I meet in the ring. Wait… you’re probably forgetting that handicap match with him and Lerch, well, yes.. I did forget. Why did I forget? Because I never remembered it ever happening. The week AFTER I left the company to pursue dreams in the comfort of fifteen hookers and somehow I managed to drink myself into a Slam match. Do you understand me, Joey? Do you see what I’m saying?
That match wasn’t even cannon. Straight shoot. You never beat me. Get that out of your mind ya Young jobbing whore. This isn’t no match with some old broken down fuck like that two year chump Jayson Price, you’re not in the ring with someone who finally managed to pick up a World Championship win after twenty shots. Where you going to be in 16 years, fucboi? Not where I am. Not at this level. No one will. I’m the greatest. You, Joey? You might be on top of the mountain right now, but you’re only up there for a limited time. You’re on vacation. And you want to know something about that mountain? I built it.
Go win a War, fuckstick. Get on my level.
Mid-morning, the sun just started to warm things up on an unusual March day of weather. It wasn’t short sleeve conditions; unless you were brave it could be pulled off, you wouldn’t have goose bumps per say, but you wouldn’t be golden warm either. Some grass was beginning to grow in small patches throughout lawns. He didn’t know that he was here yet, that time would come soon enough. He thought he was safe out here in the woods, thought he found sanctuary. He should’ve known better, known that he couldn’t hide, especially not that what he was hiding from originated within his own mind. Madness cannot be evaded, only embraced. Insanity was his sanctuary now, and surrounded by comfort, a mind finally at ease. He’s Logan of course, through and through, that has not been forgotten to certain individuals – certain special individuals. The ones or more particularly one that put Logan in this predicament to start, the one that’s a form of imagination, the one that always dwells and slithers at every corner of his tormented mind, the Serpent. And despite the fact that he had killed it or at least believed he killed it; it returned. Since it is not real it cannot truly meet death, only a short absence, temporary relief from Logan’s mind, and it would remerge, always.
The Serpent: If I didn’t know any better I’d think it was spring.
It admired the warm weather and the gathering of chirping birds outside Logan’s house.
The Serpent: Knock, knock, Logan. Knock.. knock.
The Serpent transformed its reptile appearance. The tail crawled away into its spine, the scaly baldness of its head grew long thick black hair, two legs grew from its hind and bare feet touched the dry grass. One of the previous incarnations of The Serpent sprung to life in human form, Samatha-form. Taking this image made things a little less frightening for the mentally ill, not that she desired any remorse for the poor fool, but play time as a serpent definitely distracted Logan from the fun. And that was all she, The Serpent, really wanted to begin with, nice genuine fun. He heard the knock on his front door, pressing his cheek into the door and eyeing the peep hole. He saw a beautiful woman standing in the yard. If he had known any better or remembered the previous encounters with the black haired witch, he wouldn’t have dared to do what he did next… open the door.
Logan: Hey there, princess.
The jet black silk that clothed her body blew a little with the breeze, sucking into her and exposing her frame. He was really lost, not being able to recognize The Serpent. She knew this for sure now; this was almost like a fresh start, a new chance to toy with his brain some more.
The Serpent: Princess’ss? How fascinating.
Logan: Yeah.. fascinating.
He arched an eyebrow.
Logan: Would you like to come in?
The Serpent: No..
Her gaze shifted from him and onto the glorious sky that warmed the March day.
The Serpent: I’d whether stay outside while it’s still nice. I have things that you need to see and you can only see them outside, well, properly.
There was evil lurking behind her voice, he sensed it hiding somewhere, but she was too beautiful for him to take much caution of that. He stepped out onto the porch letting the door close behind him.
Logan: Sounds good to me.
She remained in place.
The Serpent: Joey Flash.
Logan: Huh?
Though he wasn’t particularly on his mind at the time other than earlier, the name at least caught some of his attention.
Logan: What about that yankee doodle boudle motherfucker?
The Serpent grinned specifically for his use of words.
The Serpent: His name. I like it.
He got closer to her, just within a few feet before stopping and arching another brow.
Logan: That’s unfortunate.
The Serpent: You burned down the Cooper house the other day didn’t you?
Logan: Yup. Charon is gone. Who knows where, but… he was my real Cooper. Now we’re rebuilding. Dag, Chance, and I… we’ve finally found a footing in this mess. No more fuck ups like Twilight and Katherine.
He seemed quite proud of the arson he had committed.
The Serpent: But that wasn’t actually why you did it.. was it?
Logan: Of course it was!
The Serpent: Are you sure?
Logan: …
He went into thought, deep thought, as he usually did whenever talking with The Serpent. Her presence always shook his mind up like a snow globe, and then the flakes would settle and cover his brain with blankets of confusion.
The Serpent: That’s okay, Logan. Maybe you did, maybe you didn’t, burn down house or not that’s not the reason I’m a stickler for your answer. I have more curiosity towards one of your opponents, Joey Flash. I like Joey Flash for personal reasons. He represents horrible things that are flat out delicious. The Anti-Faggot, they say, he’ll say, whoever says. A person carrying such a name doesn’t go hand in hand with rainbows and unicorns, but deep inside… maybe it does.
He interrupted, a little agitated.
Logan: What the hell are you getting at, are you warning me about Joey Flash?
The Serpent: I’m helping you.
Logan: But I know he’s a bastard.
The Serpent: Yes, most people do. That’s not my point. I want you to grow, Logan. That’s why you’re here. Burning down a house, fun as that may be, that’s not going to dismiss the initial failings of The Family, even if it was in fact your intentions. It’s a start, of course. But I think that right now you’re just too soft for Joey Flash. Your body may be aged but your mind is too young, hasn’t suffered enough yet to extinguish the fire, the pain, the pure strength of him.
He ignored her. What the hell did she know? More than him obviously, because his mind was like a record player playing ‘shut up’ on loop. It had no new tracks to offer, nothing to let it expand.
The Serpent: Joey Flash is like an wounded dog, he’s quicker to bite a playful kid pulling at his tail. He’s not a pup that will put up with it. He’d whether rip you to shreds than risk getting a little scratch, because scratches don’t heal as fast when you’re already bleeding. He goes for the kill a little quicker now, because as everyone knows, his star will not shine for years to come and with every match he leaves endurance behind if not everything else that a fighter needs for this sport. It’s a dog eat dog world and he’s drooling for a mouthful of flesh. If you want to not only defeat him, but walk in knowing you have his number, then your mindset has to be more cold, bitter, and nastier than his.
He surprisingly found himself interested.
Logan: Yeah.
The Serpent: You have to survive Joey Flash, fight him to stay in it. It’s not about being smart or how your wrestling skill matches his, that doesn’t matter with him. You need to go tooth for tooth, nail for nail. You have to get nasty with him, and hope that in the end he’s missing more than you are. There’s no real strategy other than going head to head. No dancing. No games. Just raw aggression, that’s how you’ll put him away.
Logan: Sounds like you’ve faced that yankee boy before.
The Serpent: Let’s just say.. someone close.. someone very close to me has.
She winked. Was that a sign of flirtation or was she indicating that some inside joke had been played.
Logan: Ah.. I was drunk. Shit isn’t cannon.
The Serpent: But… words alone aren’t going to prepare you for the strength you’ll need to overcome Joey Flash.
Logan: What do you mean?
The Serpent: A trail, one to endure before you participate in his own ‘trail’.
Logan: I see. What, you think I’m going to run around the house and dance through tire holes like a jackass. No thank you.
The Serpent: Not exactly.
A scratching, like someone was going to town on a bad itch at their hardest spot to reach on the spine began gurgling its way up beneath them, under the soil. He assumed it was a ground mole. Who wouldn’t? The Serpent continued like the noise beneath their feet was right on time, part of a genius plan.
The Serpent: I told you, Logan, bringing the fight to Flash isn’t going to be enough alone, you need to survive him as well, and you’ll be surprised what a man is capable of when he’s fighting to survive.
The scratching reached its peak and the source of the noise exploded a clawing hand from the ground. The hand dug into the grass, pulling up further, and that hand was connected to an arm, and as it revealed itself further from the earth, that arm was connected to a shoulder, and a head. He covered his gasping mouth in fear while watching the animated corpse claw its way up onto his front lawn.
Logan: IS THAT A – A –
The Serpent: Faggot zombie?
Logan: Impossible! They don’t exist.
The Serpent: Neither do I, technically.
Logan: What does this mean?! They going eat my dick?!
The Serpent: I bet running through tires doesn’t sound so bad right now does it?
And even if the entire earth’s surface had been covered to his neck in fuckin’ tires, he would’ve ran, because this hideous walking penis munching corpse was on its feet and coming directly straight at him, and so ‘ran’ he did. The monster, another figment of his imagination, though real to him, wanted to wrap its rotted mouth around him. The idea alone of that infectious array of blackened teeth anywhere near his body was enough to make his brain cringe, load a .45, grow some brain arms, and blow a brains-brain out. He reached his front door, the zombie just a few dragging steps behind him. The door seemed harder to open than usual, maybe fear makes people too dumb to perform a simple task such as turning a doorknob, but he couldn’t, too difficult. The knob slipped and turned back and forth in his hand but refused to open, did not obey him. He could smell it behind him now, the corpse was that close.
Faggot Zombie: Off with your pants, fucboooy!
Funky cold breath hit the back of his neck and he knew it’d only be a second later that he’d feel ragged teeth. Not a second too soon because the door suddenly remembered it could be opened by the turn of a knob and opened it did. He fell in, the zombie digging nails into his shoulders and falling in with him like a merry jolly pair coming in from a night of bar hopping and clubbing.
The Serpent: Oh, Logan, be careful! He bites!
Through the struggling he managed to hear a joyful Serpent commentating from outside. That’s when he realized she was right, he did bite. The corpse, on the floor with him, on top of him, flapped it’s loosely hinged jaw inches from his face as he pushed against his rotted hollow chest. It’d be only a matter of time now that one of those bites got a mouthful of his cheek, so, in desperation he plunged his thumbs into each of the zombie’s eyes. The eyes pushed back into his skull and the sockets filled with thick red pus. It flowed, running down his hands and onto his forearms, some of it even dripping on his face and into his mouth. It tasted how you’d imagine fluid from a zombie would taste, like you stuck your tongue out and lapped up a puddle in the bottom of a dumpster. He vomited right there in between the eye gorging, the stomach acid pushing out of his mouth and running down the sides of his face. The removal of sight didn’t keep the corpse from fighting; it kept right on, like a dying bull instinctively charging something red, even though it didn’t have the visual.
The Serpent: The brain. You have to destroy the brain. Hasn’t George A. taught you anything?
But this wasn’t a horror movie, and good thing Steve Orbit didn’t have a foot in this promo because if he was he’d sure be in trouble because he was black, and if he did destroy this zombie’s brain he thought he’d go and destroy that little bitch’s brain as well. She sure wasn’t helping. He was able to push the corpse off to his side, yanking his imbedded thumbs out of the zombie’s eye sockets. It lay there for a moment, kicking and reaching out in place, damage obviously done from the blood spurting eyes. He looked through the doorway and out to The Serpent.
Logan: I think it’s dying.
The Serpent: Know it’s dying, Logan. You must know. Joey Flash isn’t going to let you wait for him to go down, even if he wants a taste of your cock.
He screamed back at her in anger and frustration.
Logan: THIS ISN’T FUCKIN’ FLASH-
The words were interrupted, surprise choked them right out, the corpse had risen to its feet like a string puppet and the master pulling strings was ready for further performance. This was a real problem, him being on his back, the zombie faggot on its feet.
Logan: Don’t fuck me!
He scrambled backwards, his elbows pushing him back along the hardwood floor, and the blind zombie marched on in a very terrifying accurate direction. He thankfully managed to put a little space between him and the corpse, a few feet maybe, but that was enough to stand, but he couldn’t just yet, his back hit a wall and a steel bundle of fire pokers that fell onto their side and slid out. There the zombie was, near his feet now, getting down on its knees to join in on floor level despair. He thanked God for the fire pokers, he had never actually used them before, but he thanked God he had them. He reached for one and brought the edged L shaped tip into the corpse’s temple. It didn’t go down, only came closer, he swung again; missing the spot he had hoped to hit and just skimming the zombies forehead. The corpse was too close now to execute a full blown swing again, so he took the end of the poker into his hand, and stabbed it into his stomach. It provided enough discomfort on the corpse’s behalf for him to roll away and stand to his feet. He reached down, now over the corpse, ripping the impaled poker from its stomach and gripping it back into his hands. He steadied the end of the poker over the corpses head, making sure to swing with everything he had but be accurate at the same time, and then came down with it. The poker splashed into the zombie’s soft face, breaking open skull and bursting warm sprays of liquid onto the wall.
The Serpent: AGAIN!
She had come into the house now, watching him stand over the corpse, joy hiding behind her focused eyes. He swung into its face once more, covering the area with more mess of brain chunks and skull bits.
The Serpent: …
He could hear her even though she didn’t speak. He knew she was getting a kick out of this, and.. maybe.. he was too, because without instruction he began bashing the corpse face, over and over like a mad golfer hitting dirt.
The Serpent: .. yes’sss..
Her S’s slithered with orgasm, watching him swing and swing, a blood soaked grin stretching ear to ear. The battered face turned into mush and there was nothing left but a puddle of strange gook and he was left hitting nothing but floor. The fire poker dropped from his hands. He brought his hands to his face, slick and greasy with blood, rubbing corpse remains out of his eyes. The whole experience was liberating. It felt like he had grown a new lung and was now able to breathe better than anyone else on planet earth. He also felt terrified, damn struck with fear, for himself and acts he now realized he was capable of.
Logan: This didn’t happen. This isn’t some trick.. is it? Did I actually just murder someone?
No response from The Serpent, he turned to look for her but she had vanished. No longer was the dark demon in his corner, cheering him on, and encouraging violence. He got another look outside as well to see if she moved out there. She wasn’t, but something else was alright, more of those corpses, three more fresh holes in the earth, and three more staggering dead bodies slipping and tumbling towards the front door like they’d been ejected with gallons of booze. He rushed to the front door, closing it shut and locking the bolt. Another confrontation with these monsters wasn’t welcomed, he wanted to avoid them at all cost. They hit the front door with fists, heads, dicks, whatever bodily able. He backed against it; double checking now and then to make sure the lock was in place. The racket of noise finally stopped, which was strange, he didn’t think these corpses knew the word quit, not especially after the one before continued to come at him even after he removed its eyeballs. The back door, they must be heading towards the backdoor! He would have run to the back, but something locked up his tracks, the sound of hard footsteps coming from the hallway towards the room. Had one of them managed to get into the house? He would have heard it. These footsteps sounded more elegant than a mindless corpse. Clunk. Clunk. Clunk. He couldn’t move, only listen. Clunk. Clunk. Clunk. Two small black empty leather tap shoes pranced into the room. No feet to occupy them, much less a body. They stopped dead center of the room, turning the noses of the shoes into his direction, methodically tapping in a slow rhythm.
Tap Shoes: Helllooo –
The radio inside the kitchen turned on playing some 1920’s jazz. He couldn’t remember ever hearing a station that played 20’s jazz in this area, much less jazz at all. The shoes pointed nose flaps flipped open, singing in harmony with the music on the radio and tap dancing along. The grand stage had been set and he felt like these dancing singing tap shoes were performing just for him.
Tap Shoes: Heeello my darlin’ / Hello my honey / Hello my bride to beee.
The back door! He momentarily forgot about the threat outside, the corpses making their way to the back! Had he wasted too much time with these God forsaken shoes? He couldn’t waste anymore. He bolted across the room, past the dancing shoes that he thought attempted to trip him. The back door was almost in sight, around the kitchen corner, and… bingo, there was the back door, slightly jarred with a rotted head peeking through it. He slung his body into the door, hoping to push the corpse head back in the process. The head caved into the door frame, the pressure literally squeezing it until it popped and burst bloody bits through the air and onto the kitchen stove. The rest of the body fell back into the garage, and the door shut closed. No locks on this one, however, and there were two more behind the headless corpse. The shoes tapped and sung their way into the kitchen, his predicament not bothering the shoes at all, not skipping a beat.
Tap Shoes: This is our paradiseee / This is the Heaven brighttt.
Logan: Shut up!
Tap Shoes: Hello my baby / Hello my darlin’ / Hello my bride to beee.
The shoes had no intentions of ceasing their tapping joy. This wasn’t the ideal time for entertainment; he could feel the other two corpses on the other side of the door now, bashing fists into it. The hard blows pushing his body forward before he’d have to soon fall back against the door and take another, yet the damned shoes continued. He needed something to bar this door; he knew he couldn’t keep them back forever. Was this what The Serpent meant? Was this all part of the trail to prepare for him? Would Joey Flash be this gawd damn reluctant? Even if he was, he doubted Joey Flash would sing to him and tap dance, or try to eat his brains, metaphorically maybe, but not literally. He eyed the wooden chair that lay five feet ahead of him, wondering if he’d have enough time to grab it and seal the door before they could break in. It’d be a leap of faith but what other choice was there. He took the leap, grabbing the chair, turning to the door, the opened door. The two mindless corpses stood in the doorway, drooling mouths open, and hands upward in a Mummy like fashion. He came at them like a lion tamer, pushing the butt of the chair into their chests and knocking them backwards from the doorway. He closed the door, propping the head of the chair under the knob.
Tap Shoes: Hello my baby / Hello my darli-
He yanked those damn shoes up from their tapping heaven, tossing them into the kitchen sing, clogging the drain and turning the water on full blast. They tried to tap dance out; he held them down, watching the water rise over the soles. The shoes continued singing despite this, and even through the drowning they went on until gurgling their last note of the hideous 20’s song. The music on the radio died exactly the time the shoes were drowned. The banging at the door ceased as well.
The Serpent: Survival.
She appeared in the kitchen doorway, legs crossed, arm resting on the frame, cigarette between her lips.
The Serpent: It’s written in every species, the only thing that everyone truly has in common.
The soaked shoes disappeared from within the sink, turning into a liquid substance, and oozing down the drain.
Logan: What’s wrong with me?
The Serpent: Nothing. Absolutely nothing.
He turned to face her, resting his palms on the edge of the sink.
Logan: You sure about that, really? I just drown a pair of talking tap dancing shoes.
The end of the cigarette glowed and she took her time puffing out the smoke.
The Serpent: Your point?
Logan: People don’t normally do that type of thing.
The Serpent: That’s why you’re so special, Logan.
Logan: I was thinking crazy sounded more appropriate.
The Serpent: Crazy? Oh dear, you’re far from that. Oblivion, he’s crazy. Hell, even Joey Flash is a nutter in his own way. You’re different from them. You can function; you know the difference between right and wrong. You actually gave yourself something to believe in, you want to see yourself become WCF’s oldest champion, that’s ambition, that’s where you set yourself aside. Those guys, they’re very much like those walking mindless corpses, they just walk around until they can find something to sink their teeth into.
Logan: I want to believe you.. I do.
The Serpent: Good.
Logan: This isn’t the only strange thing that’s happened lately. Over the last couple of weeks, I have been feeling.. I don’t know, not like myself sometimes. Matter of fact, every day now I’m finding it more difficult to realize the idea behind this stable business. Back in 2006, with the ToT, it was all too easy. Everything fell into place. I took things for granted and didn’t realize what I was getting into with The Family. But now with just myself, Dag, and cVc… I think we’ve finally shaved it down to that magic touch I was originally seeking.
She expressed a look of confusion though deep down inside she was howling and laughing her guts out.
The Serpent: Do you think you’re going to be successful with this group of yours?
Logan: Yes. But people keep saying I won’t be, and every now and then I’ll actually think about why THEY think that… and wonder what is it? What do they see?
The Serpent: And what do you see, Logan? What do you s’see?
Logan: I see myself.
The Serpent: Then what more of an answer do you need? You’re not Charon. He’s gone. They are the crazy ones, not you, you’re the only sane one in their little mental asylum.
He found himself agreeing with her.
Logan: Exactly. I will succeed. I’m going to bring The Family to WCF’s forefront. We’ll surpass everything that came before us. The Family will become the new measurement of victory.
The Serpent: And you will succeed, Logan. You will. And I’ll be standing there beside you if you’d want me to. I am here to help you, nothing else.
Logan: I would like that.
Trust, what a wonderful thing it can be, even if it’s a misguided and manipulated trust, it’s still warm, sweet, touching, and even tastier when it’s broken. She’d break his trust in time, play with his brain some more, but for now he’d keep him from completely losing it. He was just too much fun. She cocked an eyebrow at his approach, he seemed to feel very comforted by her presence, even more so when he embraced her for a hug. She soaked in the hug, smiling behind his back.
Logan: Show me how to fight Dune.
Trust. Such a wonderful thing. The scene turned over into the middle of a desert. Logan was barefoot, watching his footing for thorns while he tracked along the hot sand. The Serpent flowed behind him, snaking her way through the ocean of sand.
The Serpent: Dune represents the opposite of what Joey Flash did. Two different beasts.
Logan: Beast? He isn’t a complete animal. Behind every beast holds a beauty.
The Serpent: Yet behind Dune’s mask holds nothing short of ugly. Do you know why he wears it?
Logan: I haven’t given enough fuck about Dune to find out why.
The Serpent: Only you should. He was the most dominate man WCF held last year.
Logan: What does that have to do with hiding his ugly mud behind a mask?
The Serpent: There is only one reason he would wear it, Logan, and that reason is simple…
He finishes her.
Logan: Weakness.
The Serpent: Precisely. I’m so proud.
The sand whips over his face with similarities of tiny glass shards.
Logan: Pull off the mask – pull off the victory?
The Serpent: Doesn’t it seem simple enough? I don’t believe anyone ever has, unless I’m like you and I only give a fuck about my own story and not pay attention to the ones of others.
Logan: You’re right. If I can rip it from Dune’s face, well, fuck it… maybe somebody tried it before, but if no one ever has? I’m a genius. It’s a win-win all day.
The Serpent: What do you see when you look at Dune, Logan? Have a view of this desert. It’s endless, as his strength. Look at the dunes. They’re sand mountains – as his strength. They both can swallow you.
Logan: I already fought corpses that were faggots to prove my survival techniques for Joey Flash, now you want me to go punch a sand dune?
The Serpent: Not exactly.
A grin started twitching on the corners of her reptile lips. The dune just in front of him transformed into something of a gigantic tidal wave, building up just large enough to block out sunlight and create darkness.
The Serpent: The strength of Dune… magnificent is it not?
He didn’t give her a response. Instead his feet did the talking, turning in the desert sand and running fast away from the incoming sand wave as they could carry him. The Serpent kept in his ear.
The Serpent: Will you run from Dune as well when his sheer brute power comes crashing down?
Logan: This is surviving!
The Serpent: We already did that. Turn and face the wave. Let the power of Dune break against you. Take it!
He did turn, only his head, to once again examine the height of the sand. It would swallow him.
The Serpent: When Dune comes shoulder, head, his entire body first into your ribs… will you embrace it or let it swallow you?
His running feet began to slow pace.
The Serpent: If you can’t s’ssstand against a pile of sand then what chance do you expect to have from a charging Dune?
Maybe he was nuts. Some might make a case that he needed a mental hospital, but okay, yeah… he turns on his feet and jumps into a stance – ready to endure the impact of the tidal wave of sand – ready to endure Dune. The Serpent flicks her tongue near his ear; he took that as some weird sign of approval.
Logan: Argh.
The wave drew much closer, nearly blinding his vision from the sheer mass.
The Serpent: Eat it.
The tower of sand still blocking out sunlight.
The Serpent: Make a sandwich out of Dune.
Logan: DUNNNNNNNEEE!
He digs his feet into the sand, embracing the massive sand wave while it crashes into him. Everything went black.
The Serpent: Endure, Logan. Do not let this engulf you.
Was all he could hear. His hand went upwards, blinded, feeling nothing but sand above him. It was then he realized a hill of sand sat over his body. He claws into it, much like the symbolic corpses of Flash came from the Earth – so did he. Digging through the sand, fighting it, until finally sunlight and most importantly air hit him harder than the wave of sand did. He climbed out of the desert floor, gasping.
The Serpent: I believe you’re ready for Dune. His power does not match your resilience.
After finally catching his breath and spitting out sand.
Logan: Maybe I can take Dune. Maybe I can survive the offense of Joey Flash, but can The Family? I’d break my own bone for Dag Riddik and Chance Von Crank if it ensured their own survival, but would they do the same for me? I’m not that Face of Treachery guy everyone hears about… the legend never matches reality. I betrayed people in the past only because they betrayed me first. I never asked for that name. Both Dag and Chance should know and they already know my loyalty lives and dies with The Family. Do you hear me? This group faced the worst launch a group ever has in the history of fuckin’ stables in WCF. We initially fucked up. Yes. We did.
Did I back out? No. How many other people would have called this shit a wrap after the multiple fuck overs The Family received? I’d like to know. I did not. I endured. Dag Riddik endured. And now finally… Chance Von Crank will not have to endure. I took the punishment to make sure cVc could join a community that already had a backbone and didn’t require one. Chance, if I hadn’t told you this already, you add to us… you are us… but now, you’re a part of us. No. Chance, you are The Family. Dag Riddik is The Family. WE ARE THE FAMILY.
He dusts the sand off his shoulders.
Logan: The Sentinels aren’t going to break us no matter how hard they think they can. We give and take as a group no matter what happens. This isn’t just a matter of having each others back – it’s about never stabbing one another in it just because we have our backs. Dag wouldn’t stab mine and I wouldn’t stab cVc’s, so on the other end of the table we have Dune and Joey Flash. Do those two really think those two monstrous egos can work together hard enough to defeat the already united? This isn’t a game, Flash. This isn’t a matter of putting up promos with stupid fuckin’ footage of retards in red masks dancing. Dag, Chance, and myself came together for one purpose only… and that’s to win the fuck out of matches like this.
The Serpent: Which brings us to our next trail.
Logan: Occulo.
The scene and narrative changed entirely to properly dig deep into the trail of Occulo. We opened under a child’s bed; you could tell it was child from the fact that pictures Sponge Bob covered the sheets. Though I’ve known a few adults who owned these spreads, nevertheless, we were under the bed of a young Occulo… got it? And by us, I mean The Serpent, well, that big ass snake motherfucker and myself, Logan. Occulo was merely a youthful presence at the time, often ignored by his Daddy, and paid the wrong attention from Mommy. Such was never more obvious when she burst into the room to catch him fondling himself under the blankets whilst viewing a Slam from 2001.
Logan: Should I feel like Jimmy Stewart right now or Johnny Reb?
He didn’t know rather this was a trip back in time – well – it certainly was, however was he here merely to observe or could he interact as well?
Logan: H’m.
He plucked an ass hair and flicked it at Occulos Mom. Zero effect. She either no sold it like her Son had done with ninety percent of his opponents throughout his career or she simply could not register it… which meant he was here merely to observe.
The Serpent: Not the sweetest of Mothers is she?
Logan: Perhaps it is the jealously that she didn’t think to wank off to me before he did.
She ripped the sheets back and he scrambled to hide his privates.
Mother: Occulo!
His face flared red with embarrassment.
Young Occulo: I couldn’t help it. You see, Mother, I myself want to be a wrestler one day… just like that guy, Logan.
Mother: Not if you keep playing with your wrinkle dinkle over him. Let’s only speculate that fifteen years from now he is still wrestling, much less main eventing –
Logan: Fooled you.
Mother: Even if you’ve earned a chance to encounter such a power like him do you think he’d approve of the fact that you played with your little worm to him as a child?
Young Occulo: On the contrary…
Mother: You sick demon of hell. Here you are in your Sponge Bob sheets, yet you’ll probably grow to spread lies of your ‘abusive Mother’.
Young Occulo: Soon as I can afford my own Sponge Bob covers!
Logan: THIS was his abusive childhood?
The Serpent: Indeed. Pollutes the very word doesn’t it?
Logan: I don’t understand the trail unless you want my ears to tolerate bleeding.
The Serpent: It’s more than that. You see, Occulo is nothing psychical like the sheer power of Dune or even the cunning faggot talk of Flash. He’s all brains. Simply brains. It all he has. He’s a good guy! And how do you bring good guys down? Very simple, Logan. You destroy their innocence.
Logan: So I manipulate Occulo into killing his supposed terrible Mother?
The Serpent: No. You molest him.
Logan looked directly into the camera and nearly shot his eyebrows off his forehead.
Logan: You want me to molest a child?
The Serpent: Why not? Maybe it’ll lead to the fuck turning heel down the road whenever he joins WCF and we’ll finally witness some interesting material from him.
Logan: I understand the concept of cheap heat – but this ain’t even cheap. This is… well… it SHOULD be wrong but now that I think about it – if it gives me any advantage this Sunday, then yes, why not – I shall gladly destroy Occulo’s hairless anus along with his innocence. I’m not even gay either. But fuck it.. literally… FUCK OCCULO. IF THIS DOESN’T FINALLY TURN HIM INTO A GOOD HEEL WHAT WILL?
He pulled down his pants and slid out from underneath the childhood of bed of Occulo just as fast as he slid out of his pants.
Young Occulo: LOGAN!
The boy was more than surprised.
Logan: Ha. You love me now… but just wait until the March of 2016. You’ll hide that love deep down and do you know why you will, Occulo?
Young Occulo: I don’t…?
A grin formed on top of the grin Logan already displayed.
Logan: Because rather than the abusive Mother you’ll refer to the abusive wrestler that magically traveled back in time to violate your asshole. Now, Occulo, does that not sound fascinating or what?!
The boy pulled his Sponge Bob covers up to his chin.
Logan: See… you should take notes. You’ll want to do interesting things when you grow up because currently you’re just as stale as this condom - you should be much grateful I’m using by the way!
He went to pull down his boxers to release a hotdog of treachery, however… his face turned back to that camera.
Logan: You’re STILL watching? You perverted puppy.
The scene switched to the after effects of violating Occulo’s youth. Logan was sat up in the bed, beneath the sheets of Sponge Bob, smoking a cigarette while Occulo cowered into a corner with wet cheeks of both kind.
Logan: Well whatever trail that was must have been the most fun thus far. It began with Occuo’s asshole and ends with him being one despite the fact he believes the audience genuinely cheers him. Do you know why they cheer you, Occulo? It’s sympathy. You see the WCF has become so absorbed by the dominance of quote on quote, ‘ bad guys’, that the audience will spark at the very chance to glitter a guy like you with joy. You see, Occulo, there is no line with me. I am above the fancy backstage code of face or heel – I don’t even fall in between. I am whatever I need to be to win. If the right circumstances call for a saint then I’ll strap a halo to my head that very second, however, I’ll also grow a pair of horns if I can find even an ounce of enjoyment out of embarrassing you as I just have.
Even then it’s all justified. Good, bad, everyone has a reason… right? I haven’t. I cannot. Trust me, Occulo, I had no reservations about what just proceeded. That alone should make me very much a heel these fans speak of – but if you don’t feel bad nor good about a so called evil action – then what are you?
I’m not a robot. I do have emotions. Are they far and in-between? To the contrary. I had to debate ending my career for two hours yesterday morning and spending the rest of my life in a prison because someone cross walking stared at me longer than two seconds. You see – I have a conscious! A person of evil wouldn’t have thought about it, they just would have acted. Then again if that’s all you do but act then how can you tell the genuine from the false?
I’ll tell you the difference right now, Occulo. I suspect you're going to increase the temperature this week just out of the sole suspicion that you hate me. I challenge you to crank it as much as you possibly can without boring everyone you can – because either way – your heat would set me on fire before it ever brought me down to a loss. How do you think I’ve survived so long with opponents like yourself who outright continue to refuse to acknowledge all that I am?
It’s not the wins that made me, Occulo. It was the losses. It was those special ones where you reach as high as you believe you possibly can only to get rejected. I’ve experienced those bad days enough over and over to make the best of men terrible, but it never shook me. It never got to me. I’m perfectly sane. It’s you, Occulo, and your friend, Dune, that are the ones that cannot quite grasp what it takes to hop in a barrel and roll down a hill that never ends. It’s not until you meet ultimate defeat you truly know what you are worth. Occulo, I’m going to show you exactly what you’re worth.
Scene ended.
Logan: Finally at last Joey Flash and I meet in the ring. Wait… you’re probably forgetting that handicap match with him and Lerch, well, yes.. I did forget. Why did I forget? Because I never remembered it ever happening. The week AFTER I left the company to pursue dreams in the comfort of fifteen hookers and somehow I managed to drink myself into a Slam match. Do you understand me, Joey? Do you see what I’m saying?
That match wasn’t even cannon. Straight shoot. You never beat me. Get that out of your mind ya Young jobbing whore. This isn’t no match with some old broken down fuck like that two year chump Jayson Price, you’re not in the ring with someone who finally managed to pick up a World Championship win after twenty shots. Where you going to be in 16 years, fucboi? Not where I am. Not at this level. No one will. I’m the greatest. You, Joey? You might be on top of the mountain right now, but you’re only up there for a limited time. You’re on vacation. And you want to know something about that mountain? I built it.
Go win a War, fuckstick. Get on my level.
Mid-morning, the sun just started to warm things up on an unusual March day of weather. It wasn’t short sleeve conditions; unless you were brave it could be pulled off, you wouldn’t have goose bumps per say, but you wouldn’t be golden warm either. Some grass was beginning to grow in small patches throughout lawns. He didn’t know that he was here yet, that time would come soon enough. He thought he was safe out here in the woods, thought he found sanctuary. He should’ve known better, known that he couldn’t hide, especially not that what he was hiding from originated within his own mind. Madness cannot be evaded, only embraced. Insanity was his sanctuary now, and surrounded by comfort, a mind finally at ease. He’s Logan of course, through and through, that has not been forgotten to certain individuals – certain special individuals. The ones or more particularly one that put Logan in this predicament to start, the one that’s a form of imagination, the one that always dwells and slithers at every corner of his tormented mind, the Serpent. And despite the fact that he had killed it or at least believed he killed it; it returned. Since it is not real it cannot truly meet death, only a short absence, temporary relief from Logan’s mind, and it would remerge, always.
The Serpent: If I didn’t know any better I’d think it was spring.
It admired the warm weather and the gathering of chirping birds outside Logan’s house.
The Serpent: Knock, knock, Logan. Knock.. knock.
The Serpent transformed its reptile appearance. The tail crawled away into its spine, the scaly baldness of its head grew long thick black hair, two legs grew from its hind and bare feet touched the dry grass. One of the previous incarnations of The Serpent sprung to life in human form, Samatha-form. Taking this image made things a little less frightening for the mentally ill, not that she desired any remorse for the poor fool, but play time as a serpent definitely distracted Logan from the fun. And that was all she, The Serpent, really wanted to begin with, nice genuine fun. He heard the knock on his front door, pressing his cheek into the door and eyeing the peep hole. He saw a beautiful woman standing in the yard. If he had known any better or remembered the previous encounters with the black haired witch, he wouldn’t have dared to do what he did next… open the door.
Logan: Hey there, princess.
The jet black silk that clothed her body blew a little with the breeze, sucking into her and exposing her frame. He was really lost, not being able to recognize The Serpent. She knew this for sure now; this was almost like a fresh start, a new chance to toy with his brain some more.
The Serpent: Princess’ss? How fascinating.
Logan: Yeah.. fascinating.
He arched an eyebrow.
Logan: Would you like to come in?
The Serpent: No..
Her gaze shifted from him and onto the glorious sky that warmed the March day.
The Serpent: I’d whether stay outside while it’s still nice. I have things that you need to see and you can only see them outside, well, properly.
There was evil lurking behind her voice, he sensed it hiding somewhere, but she was too beautiful for him to take much caution of that. He stepped out onto the porch letting the door close behind him.
Logan: Sounds good to me.
She remained in place.
The Serpent: Joey Flash.
Logan: Huh?
Though he wasn’t particularly on his mind at the time other than earlier, the name at least caught some of his attention.
Logan: What about that yankee doodle boudle motherfucker?
The Serpent grinned specifically for his use of words.
The Serpent: His name. I like it.
He got closer to her, just within a few feet before stopping and arching another brow.
Logan: That’s unfortunate.
The Serpent: You burned down the Cooper house the other day didn’t you?
Logan: Yup. Charon is gone. Who knows where, but… he was my real Cooper. Now we’re rebuilding. Dag, Chance, and I… we’ve finally found a footing in this mess. No more fuck ups like Twilight and Katherine.
He seemed quite proud of the arson he had committed.
The Serpent: But that wasn’t actually why you did it.. was it?
Logan: Of course it was!
The Serpent: Are you sure?
Logan: …
He went into thought, deep thought, as he usually did whenever talking with The Serpent. Her presence always shook his mind up like a snow globe, and then the flakes would settle and cover his brain with blankets of confusion.
The Serpent: That’s okay, Logan. Maybe you did, maybe you didn’t, burn down house or not that’s not the reason I’m a stickler for your answer. I have more curiosity towards one of your opponents, Joey Flash. I like Joey Flash for personal reasons. He represents horrible things that are flat out delicious. The Anti-Faggot, they say, he’ll say, whoever says. A person carrying such a name doesn’t go hand in hand with rainbows and unicorns, but deep inside… maybe it does.
He interrupted, a little agitated.
Logan: What the hell are you getting at, are you warning me about Joey Flash?
The Serpent: I’m helping you.
Logan: But I know he’s a bastard.
The Serpent: Yes, most people do. That’s not my point. I want you to grow, Logan. That’s why you’re here. Burning down a house, fun as that may be, that’s not going to dismiss the initial failings of The Family, even if it was in fact your intentions. It’s a start, of course. But I think that right now you’re just too soft for Joey Flash. Your body may be aged but your mind is too young, hasn’t suffered enough yet to extinguish the fire, the pain, the pure strength of him.
He ignored her. What the hell did she know? More than him obviously, because his mind was like a record player playing ‘shut up’ on loop. It had no new tracks to offer, nothing to let it expand.
The Serpent: Joey Flash is like an wounded dog, he’s quicker to bite a playful kid pulling at his tail. He’s not a pup that will put up with it. He’d whether rip you to shreds than risk getting a little scratch, because scratches don’t heal as fast when you’re already bleeding. He goes for the kill a little quicker now, because as everyone knows, his star will not shine for years to come and with every match he leaves endurance behind if not everything else that a fighter needs for this sport. It’s a dog eat dog world and he’s drooling for a mouthful of flesh. If you want to not only defeat him, but walk in knowing you have his number, then your mindset has to be more cold, bitter, and nastier than his.
He surprisingly found himself interested.
Logan: Yeah.
The Serpent: You have to survive Joey Flash, fight him to stay in it. It’s not about being smart or how your wrestling skill matches his, that doesn’t matter with him. You need to go tooth for tooth, nail for nail. You have to get nasty with him, and hope that in the end he’s missing more than you are. There’s no real strategy other than going head to head. No dancing. No games. Just raw aggression, that’s how you’ll put him away.
Logan: Sounds like you’ve faced that yankee boy before.
The Serpent: Let’s just say.. someone close.. someone very close to me has.
She winked. Was that a sign of flirtation or was she indicating that some inside joke had been played.
Logan: Ah.. I was drunk. Shit isn’t cannon.
The Serpent: But… words alone aren’t going to prepare you for the strength you’ll need to overcome Joey Flash.
Logan: What do you mean?
The Serpent: A trail, one to endure before you participate in his own ‘trail’.
Logan: I see. What, you think I’m going to run around the house and dance through tire holes like a jackass. No thank you.
The Serpent: Not exactly.
A scratching, like someone was going to town on a bad itch at their hardest spot to reach on the spine began gurgling its way up beneath them, under the soil. He assumed it was a ground mole. Who wouldn’t? The Serpent continued like the noise beneath their feet was right on time, part of a genius plan.
The Serpent: I told you, Logan, bringing the fight to Flash isn’t going to be enough alone, you need to survive him as well, and you’ll be surprised what a man is capable of when he’s fighting to survive.
The scratching reached its peak and the source of the noise exploded a clawing hand from the ground. The hand dug into the grass, pulling up further, and that hand was connected to an arm, and as it revealed itself further from the earth, that arm was connected to a shoulder, and a head. He covered his gasping mouth in fear while watching the animated corpse claw its way up onto his front lawn.
Logan: IS THAT A – A –
The Serpent: Faggot zombie?
Logan: Impossible! They don’t exist.
The Serpent: Neither do I, technically.
Logan: What does this mean?! They going eat my dick?!
The Serpent: I bet running through tires doesn’t sound so bad right now does it?
And even if the entire earth’s surface had been covered to his neck in fuckin’ tires, he would’ve ran, because this hideous walking penis munching corpse was on its feet and coming directly straight at him, and so ‘ran’ he did. The monster, another figment of his imagination, though real to him, wanted to wrap its rotted mouth around him. The idea alone of that infectious array of blackened teeth anywhere near his body was enough to make his brain cringe, load a .45, grow some brain arms, and blow a brains-brain out. He reached his front door, the zombie just a few dragging steps behind him. The door seemed harder to open than usual, maybe fear makes people too dumb to perform a simple task such as turning a doorknob, but he couldn’t, too difficult. The knob slipped and turned back and forth in his hand but refused to open, did not obey him. He could smell it behind him now, the corpse was that close.
Faggot Zombie: Off with your pants, fucboooy!
Funky cold breath hit the back of his neck and he knew it’d only be a second later that he’d feel ragged teeth. Not a second too soon because the door suddenly remembered it could be opened by the turn of a knob and opened it did. He fell in, the zombie digging nails into his shoulders and falling in with him like a merry jolly pair coming in from a night of bar hopping and clubbing.
The Serpent: Oh, Logan, be careful! He bites!
Through the struggling he managed to hear a joyful Serpent commentating from outside. That’s when he realized she was right, he did bite. The corpse, on the floor with him, on top of him, flapped it’s loosely hinged jaw inches from his face as he pushed against his rotted hollow chest. It’d be only a matter of time now that one of those bites got a mouthful of his cheek, so, in desperation he plunged his thumbs into each of the zombie’s eyes. The eyes pushed back into his skull and the sockets filled with thick red pus. It flowed, running down his hands and onto his forearms, some of it even dripping on his face and into his mouth. It tasted how you’d imagine fluid from a zombie would taste, like you stuck your tongue out and lapped up a puddle in the bottom of a dumpster. He vomited right there in between the eye gorging, the stomach acid pushing out of his mouth and running down the sides of his face. The removal of sight didn’t keep the corpse from fighting; it kept right on, like a dying bull instinctively charging something red, even though it didn’t have the visual.
The Serpent: The brain. You have to destroy the brain. Hasn’t George A. taught you anything?
But this wasn’t a horror movie, and good thing Steve Orbit didn’t have a foot in this promo because if he was he’d sure be in trouble because he was black, and if he did destroy this zombie’s brain he thought he’d go and destroy that little bitch’s brain as well. She sure wasn’t helping. He was able to push the corpse off to his side, yanking his imbedded thumbs out of the zombie’s eye sockets. It lay there for a moment, kicking and reaching out in place, damage obviously done from the blood spurting eyes. He looked through the doorway and out to The Serpent.
Logan: I think it’s dying.
The Serpent: Know it’s dying, Logan. You must know. Joey Flash isn’t going to let you wait for him to go down, even if he wants a taste of your cock.
He screamed back at her in anger and frustration.
Logan: THIS ISN’T FUCKIN’ FLASH-
The words were interrupted, surprise choked them right out, the corpse had risen to its feet like a string puppet and the master pulling strings was ready for further performance. This was a real problem, him being on his back, the zombie faggot on its feet.
Logan: Don’t fuck me!
He scrambled backwards, his elbows pushing him back along the hardwood floor, and the blind zombie marched on in a very terrifying accurate direction. He thankfully managed to put a little space between him and the corpse, a few feet maybe, but that was enough to stand, but he couldn’t just yet, his back hit a wall and a steel bundle of fire pokers that fell onto their side and slid out. There the zombie was, near his feet now, getting down on its knees to join in on floor level despair. He thanked God for the fire pokers, he had never actually used them before, but he thanked God he had them. He reached for one and brought the edged L shaped tip into the corpse’s temple. It didn’t go down, only came closer, he swung again; missing the spot he had hoped to hit and just skimming the zombies forehead. The corpse was too close now to execute a full blown swing again, so he took the end of the poker into his hand, and stabbed it into his stomach. It provided enough discomfort on the corpse’s behalf for him to roll away and stand to his feet. He reached down, now over the corpse, ripping the impaled poker from its stomach and gripping it back into his hands. He steadied the end of the poker over the corpses head, making sure to swing with everything he had but be accurate at the same time, and then came down with it. The poker splashed into the zombie’s soft face, breaking open skull and bursting warm sprays of liquid onto the wall.
The Serpent: AGAIN!
She had come into the house now, watching him stand over the corpse, joy hiding behind her focused eyes. He swung into its face once more, covering the area with more mess of brain chunks and skull bits.
The Serpent: …
He could hear her even though she didn’t speak. He knew she was getting a kick out of this, and.. maybe.. he was too, because without instruction he began bashing the corpse face, over and over like a mad golfer hitting dirt.
The Serpent: .. yes’sss..
Her S’s slithered with orgasm, watching him swing and swing, a blood soaked grin stretching ear to ear. The battered face turned into mush and there was nothing left but a puddle of strange gook and he was left hitting nothing but floor. The fire poker dropped from his hands. He brought his hands to his face, slick and greasy with blood, rubbing corpse remains out of his eyes. The whole experience was liberating. It felt like he had grown a new lung and was now able to breathe better than anyone else on planet earth. He also felt terrified, damn struck with fear, for himself and acts he now realized he was capable of.
Logan: This didn’t happen. This isn’t some trick.. is it? Did I actually just murder someone?
No response from The Serpent, he turned to look for her but she had vanished. No longer was the dark demon in his corner, cheering him on, and encouraging violence. He got another look outside as well to see if she moved out there. She wasn’t, but something else was alright, more of those corpses, three more fresh holes in the earth, and three more staggering dead bodies slipping and tumbling towards the front door like they’d been ejected with gallons of booze. He rushed to the front door, closing it shut and locking the bolt. Another confrontation with these monsters wasn’t welcomed, he wanted to avoid them at all cost. They hit the front door with fists, heads, dicks, whatever bodily able. He backed against it; double checking now and then to make sure the lock was in place. The racket of noise finally stopped, which was strange, he didn’t think these corpses knew the word quit, not especially after the one before continued to come at him even after he removed its eyeballs. The back door, they must be heading towards the backdoor! He would have run to the back, but something locked up his tracks, the sound of hard footsteps coming from the hallway towards the room. Had one of them managed to get into the house? He would have heard it. These footsteps sounded more elegant than a mindless corpse. Clunk. Clunk. Clunk. He couldn’t move, only listen. Clunk. Clunk. Clunk. Two small black empty leather tap shoes pranced into the room. No feet to occupy them, much less a body. They stopped dead center of the room, turning the noses of the shoes into his direction, methodically tapping in a slow rhythm.
Tap Shoes: Helllooo –
The radio inside the kitchen turned on playing some 1920’s jazz. He couldn’t remember ever hearing a station that played 20’s jazz in this area, much less jazz at all. The shoes pointed nose flaps flipped open, singing in harmony with the music on the radio and tap dancing along. The grand stage had been set and he felt like these dancing singing tap shoes were performing just for him.
Tap Shoes: Heeello my darlin’ / Hello my honey / Hello my bride to beee.
The back door! He momentarily forgot about the threat outside, the corpses making their way to the back! Had he wasted too much time with these God forsaken shoes? He couldn’t waste anymore. He bolted across the room, past the dancing shoes that he thought attempted to trip him. The back door was almost in sight, around the kitchen corner, and… bingo, there was the back door, slightly jarred with a rotted head peeking through it. He slung his body into the door, hoping to push the corpse head back in the process. The head caved into the door frame, the pressure literally squeezing it until it popped and burst bloody bits through the air and onto the kitchen stove. The rest of the body fell back into the garage, and the door shut closed. No locks on this one, however, and there were two more behind the headless corpse. The shoes tapped and sung their way into the kitchen, his predicament not bothering the shoes at all, not skipping a beat.
Tap Shoes: This is our paradiseee / This is the Heaven brighttt.
Logan: Shut up!
Tap Shoes: Hello my baby / Hello my darlin’ / Hello my bride to beee.
The shoes had no intentions of ceasing their tapping joy. This wasn’t the ideal time for entertainment; he could feel the other two corpses on the other side of the door now, bashing fists into it. The hard blows pushing his body forward before he’d have to soon fall back against the door and take another, yet the damned shoes continued. He needed something to bar this door; he knew he couldn’t keep them back forever. Was this what The Serpent meant? Was this all part of the trail to prepare for him? Would Joey Flash be this gawd damn reluctant? Even if he was, he doubted Joey Flash would sing to him and tap dance, or try to eat his brains, metaphorically maybe, but not literally. He eyed the wooden chair that lay five feet ahead of him, wondering if he’d have enough time to grab it and seal the door before they could break in. It’d be a leap of faith but what other choice was there. He took the leap, grabbing the chair, turning to the door, the opened door. The two mindless corpses stood in the doorway, drooling mouths open, and hands upward in a Mummy like fashion. He came at them like a lion tamer, pushing the butt of the chair into their chests and knocking them backwards from the doorway. He closed the door, propping the head of the chair under the knob.
Tap Shoes: Hello my baby / Hello my darli-
He yanked those damn shoes up from their tapping heaven, tossing them into the kitchen sing, clogging the drain and turning the water on full blast. They tried to tap dance out; he held them down, watching the water rise over the soles. The shoes continued singing despite this, and even through the drowning they went on until gurgling their last note of the hideous 20’s song. The music on the radio died exactly the time the shoes were drowned. The banging at the door ceased as well.
The Serpent: Survival.
She appeared in the kitchen doorway, legs crossed, arm resting on the frame, cigarette between her lips.
The Serpent: It’s written in every species, the only thing that everyone truly has in common.
The soaked shoes disappeared from within the sink, turning into a liquid substance, and oozing down the drain.
Logan: What’s wrong with me?
The Serpent: Nothing. Absolutely nothing.
He turned to face her, resting his palms on the edge of the sink.
Logan: You sure about that, really? I just drown a pair of talking tap dancing shoes.
The end of the cigarette glowed and she took her time puffing out the smoke.
The Serpent: Your point?
Logan: People don’t normally do that type of thing.
The Serpent: That’s why you’re so special, Logan.
Logan: I was thinking crazy sounded more appropriate.
The Serpent: Crazy? Oh dear, you’re far from that. Oblivion, he’s crazy. Hell, even Joey Flash is a nutter in his own way. You’re different from them. You can function; you know the difference between right and wrong. You actually gave yourself something to believe in, you want to see yourself become WCF’s oldest champion, that’s ambition, that’s where you set yourself aside. Those guys, they’re very much like those walking mindless corpses, they just walk around until they can find something to sink their teeth into.
Logan: I want to believe you.. I do.
The Serpent: Good.
Logan: This isn’t the only strange thing that’s happened lately. Over the last couple of weeks, I have been feeling.. I don’t know, not like myself sometimes. Matter of fact, every day now I’m finding it more difficult to realize the idea behind this stable business. Back in 2006, with the ToT, it was all too easy. Everything fell into place. I took things for granted and didn’t realize what I was getting into with The Family. But now with just myself, Dag, and cVc… I think we’ve finally shaved it down to that magic touch I was originally seeking.
She expressed a look of confusion though deep down inside she was howling and laughing her guts out.
The Serpent: Do you think you’re going to be successful with this group of yours?
Logan: Yes. But people keep saying I won’t be, and every now and then I’ll actually think about why THEY think that… and wonder what is it? What do they see?
The Serpent: And what do you see, Logan? What do you s’see?
Logan: I see myself.
The Serpent: Then what more of an answer do you need? You’re not Charon. He’s gone. They are the crazy ones, not you, you’re the only sane one in their little mental asylum.
He found himself agreeing with her.
Logan: Exactly. I will succeed. I’m going to bring The Family to WCF’s forefront. We’ll surpass everything that came before us. The Family will become the new measurement of victory.
The Serpent: And you will succeed, Logan. You will. And I’ll be standing there beside you if you’d want me to. I am here to help you, nothing else.
Logan: I would like that.
Trust, what a wonderful thing it can be, even if it’s a misguided and manipulated trust, it’s still warm, sweet, touching, and even tastier when it’s broken. She’d break his trust in time, play with his brain some more, but for now he’d keep him from completely losing it. He was just too much fun. She cocked an eyebrow at his approach, he seemed to feel very comforted by her presence, even more so when he embraced her for a hug. She soaked in the hug, smiling behind his back.
Logan: Show me how to fight Dune.
Trust. Such a wonderful thing. The scene turned over into the middle of a desert. Logan was barefoot, watching his footing for thorns while he tracked along the hot sand. The Serpent flowed behind him, snaking her way through the ocean of sand.
The Serpent: Dune represents the opposite of what Joey Flash did. Two different beasts.
Logan: Beast? He isn’t a complete animal. Behind every beast holds a beauty.
The Serpent: Yet behind Dune’s mask holds nothing short of ugly. Do you know why he wears it?
Logan: I haven’t given enough fuck about Dune to find out why.
The Serpent: Only you should. He was the most dominate man WCF held last year.
Logan: What does that have to do with hiding his ugly mud behind a mask?
The Serpent: There is only one reason he would wear it, Logan, and that reason is simple…
He finishes her.
Logan: Weakness.
The Serpent: Precisely. I’m so proud.
The sand whips over his face with similarities of tiny glass shards.
Logan: Pull off the mask – pull off the victory?
The Serpent: Doesn’t it seem simple enough? I don’t believe anyone ever has, unless I’m like you and I only give a fuck about my own story and not pay attention to the ones of others.
Logan: You’re right. If I can rip it from Dune’s face, well, fuck it… maybe somebody tried it before, but if no one ever has? I’m a genius. It’s a win-win all day.
The Serpent: What do you see when you look at Dune, Logan? Have a view of this desert. It’s endless, as his strength. Look at the dunes. They’re sand mountains – as his strength. They both can swallow you.
Logan: I already fought corpses that were faggots to prove my survival techniques for Joey Flash, now you want me to go punch a sand dune?
The Serpent: Not exactly.
A grin started twitching on the corners of her reptile lips. The dune just in front of him transformed into something of a gigantic tidal wave, building up just large enough to block out sunlight and create darkness.
The Serpent: The strength of Dune… magnificent is it not?
He didn’t give her a response. Instead his feet did the talking, turning in the desert sand and running fast away from the incoming sand wave as they could carry him. The Serpent kept in his ear.
The Serpent: Will you run from Dune as well when his sheer brute power comes crashing down?
Logan: This is surviving!
The Serpent: We already did that. Turn and face the wave. Let the power of Dune break against you. Take it!
He did turn, only his head, to once again examine the height of the sand. It would swallow him.
The Serpent: When Dune comes shoulder, head, his entire body first into your ribs… will you embrace it or let it swallow you?
His running feet began to slow pace.
The Serpent: If you can’t s’ssstand against a pile of sand then what chance do you expect to have from a charging Dune?
Maybe he was nuts. Some might make a case that he needed a mental hospital, but okay, yeah… he turns on his feet and jumps into a stance – ready to endure the impact of the tidal wave of sand – ready to endure Dune. The Serpent flicks her tongue near his ear; he took that as some weird sign of approval.
Logan: Argh.
The wave drew much closer, nearly blinding his vision from the sheer mass.
The Serpent: Eat it.
The tower of sand still blocking out sunlight.
The Serpent: Make a sandwich out of Dune.
Logan: DUNNNNNNNEEE!
He digs his feet into the sand, embracing the massive sand wave while it crashes into him. Everything went black.
The Serpent: Endure, Logan. Do not let this engulf you.
Was all he could hear. His hand went upwards, blinded, feeling nothing but sand above him. It was then he realized a hill of sand sat over his body. He claws into it, much like the symbolic corpses of Flash came from the Earth – so did he. Digging through the sand, fighting it, until finally sunlight and most importantly air hit him harder than the wave of sand did. He climbed out of the desert floor, gasping.
The Serpent: I believe you’re ready for Dune. His power does not match your resilience.
After finally catching his breath and spitting out sand.
Logan: Maybe I can take Dune. Maybe I can survive the offense of Joey Flash, but can The Family? I’d break my own bone for Dag Riddik and Chance Von Crank if it ensured their own survival, but would they do the same for me? I’m not that Face of Treachery guy everyone hears about… the legend never matches reality. I betrayed people in the past only because they betrayed me first. I never asked for that name. Both Dag and Chance should know and they already know my loyalty lives and dies with The Family. Do you hear me? This group faced the worst launch a group ever has in the history of fuckin’ stables in WCF. We initially fucked up. Yes. We did.
Did I back out? No. How many other people would have called this shit a wrap after the multiple fuck overs The Family received? I’d like to know. I did not. I endured. Dag Riddik endured. And now finally… Chance Von Crank will not have to endure. I took the punishment to make sure cVc could join a community that already had a backbone and didn’t require one. Chance, if I hadn’t told you this already, you add to us… you are us… but now, you’re a part of us. No. Chance, you are The Family. Dag Riddik is The Family. WE ARE THE FAMILY.
He dusts the sand off his shoulders.
Logan: The Sentinels aren’t going to break us no matter how hard they think they can. We give and take as a group no matter what happens. This isn’t just a matter of having each others back – it’s about never stabbing one another in it just because we have our backs. Dag wouldn’t stab mine and I wouldn’t stab cVc’s, so on the other end of the table we have Dune and Joey Flash. Do those two really think those two monstrous egos can work together hard enough to defeat the already united? This isn’t a game, Flash. This isn’t a matter of putting up promos with stupid fuckin’ footage of retards in red masks dancing. Dag, Chance, and myself came together for one purpose only… and that’s to win the fuck out of matches like this.
The Serpent: Which brings us to our next trail.
Logan: Occulo.
The scene and narrative changed entirely to properly dig deep into the trail of Occulo. We opened under a child’s bed; you could tell it was child from the fact that pictures Sponge Bob covered the sheets. Though I’ve known a few adults who owned these spreads, nevertheless, we were under the bed of a young Occulo… got it? And by us, I mean The Serpent, well, that big ass snake motherfucker and myself, Logan. Occulo was merely a youthful presence at the time, often ignored by his Daddy, and paid the wrong attention from Mommy. Such was never more obvious when she burst into the room to catch him fondling himself under the blankets whilst viewing a Slam from 2001.
Logan: Should I feel like Jimmy Stewart right now or Johnny Reb?
He didn’t know rather this was a trip back in time – well – it certainly was, however was he here merely to observe or could he interact as well?
Logan: H’m.
He plucked an ass hair and flicked it at Occulos Mom. Zero effect. She either no sold it like her Son had done with ninety percent of his opponents throughout his career or she simply could not register it… which meant he was here merely to observe.
The Serpent: Not the sweetest of Mothers is she?
Logan: Perhaps it is the jealously that she didn’t think to wank off to me before he did.
She ripped the sheets back and he scrambled to hide his privates.
Mother: Occulo!
His face flared red with embarrassment.
Young Occulo: I couldn’t help it. You see, Mother, I myself want to be a wrestler one day… just like that guy, Logan.
Mother: Not if you keep playing with your wrinkle dinkle over him. Let’s only speculate that fifteen years from now he is still wrestling, much less main eventing –
Logan: Fooled you.
Mother: Even if you’ve earned a chance to encounter such a power like him do you think he’d approve of the fact that you played with your little worm to him as a child?
Young Occulo: On the contrary…
Mother: You sick demon of hell. Here you are in your Sponge Bob sheets, yet you’ll probably grow to spread lies of your ‘abusive Mother’.
Young Occulo: Soon as I can afford my own Sponge Bob covers!
Logan: THIS was his abusive childhood?
The Serpent: Indeed. Pollutes the very word doesn’t it?
Logan: I don’t understand the trail unless you want my ears to tolerate bleeding.
The Serpent: It’s more than that. You see, Occulo is nothing psychical like the sheer power of Dune or even the cunning faggot talk of Flash. He’s all brains. Simply brains. It all he has. He’s a good guy! And how do you bring good guys down? Very simple, Logan. You destroy their innocence.
Logan: So I manipulate Occulo into killing his supposed terrible Mother?
The Serpent: No. You molest him.
Logan looked directly into the camera and nearly shot his eyebrows off his forehead.
Logan: You want me to molest a child?
The Serpent: Why not? Maybe it’ll lead to the fuck turning heel down the road whenever he joins WCF and we’ll finally witness some interesting material from him.
Logan: I understand the concept of cheap heat – but this ain’t even cheap. This is… well… it SHOULD be wrong but now that I think about it – if it gives me any advantage this Sunday, then yes, why not – I shall gladly destroy Occulo’s hairless anus along with his innocence. I’m not even gay either. But fuck it.. literally… FUCK OCCULO. IF THIS DOESN’T FINALLY TURN HIM INTO A GOOD HEEL WHAT WILL?
He pulled down his pants and slid out from underneath the childhood of bed of Occulo just as fast as he slid out of his pants.
Young Occulo: LOGAN!
The boy was more than surprised.
Logan: Ha. You love me now… but just wait until the March of 2016. You’ll hide that love deep down and do you know why you will, Occulo?
Young Occulo: I don’t…?
A grin formed on top of the grin Logan already displayed.
Logan: Because rather than the abusive Mother you’ll refer to the abusive wrestler that magically traveled back in time to violate your asshole. Now, Occulo, does that not sound fascinating or what?!
The boy pulled his Sponge Bob covers up to his chin.
Logan: See… you should take notes. You’ll want to do interesting things when you grow up because currently you’re just as stale as this condom - you should be much grateful I’m using by the way!
He went to pull down his boxers to release a hotdog of treachery, however… his face turned back to that camera.
Logan: You’re STILL watching? You perverted puppy.
The scene switched to the after effects of violating Occulo’s youth. Logan was sat up in the bed, beneath the sheets of Sponge Bob, smoking a cigarette while Occulo cowered into a corner with wet cheeks of both kind.
Logan: Well whatever trail that was must have been the most fun thus far. It began with Occuo’s asshole and ends with him being one despite the fact he believes the audience genuinely cheers him. Do you know why they cheer you, Occulo? It’s sympathy. You see the WCF has become so absorbed by the dominance of quote on quote, ‘ bad guys’, that the audience will spark at the very chance to glitter a guy like you with joy. You see, Occulo, there is no line with me. I am above the fancy backstage code of face or heel – I don’t even fall in between. I am whatever I need to be to win. If the right circumstances call for a saint then I’ll strap a halo to my head that very second, however, I’ll also grow a pair of horns if I can find even an ounce of enjoyment out of embarrassing you as I just have.
Even then it’s all justified. Good, bad, everyone has a reason… right? I haven’t. I cannot. Trust me, Occulo, I had no reservations about what just proceeded. That alone should make me very much a heel these fans speak of – but if you don’t feel bad nor good about a so called evil action – then what are you?
I’m not a robot. I do have emotions. Are they far and in-between? To the contrary. I had to debate ending my career for two hours yesterday morning and spending the rest of my life in a prison because someone cross walking stared at me longer than two seconds. You see – I have a conscious! A person of evil wouldn’t have thought about it, they just would have acted. Then again if that’s all you do but act then how can you tell the genuine from the false?
I’ll tell you the difference right now, Occulo. I suspect you're going to increase the temperature this week just out of the sole suspicion that you hate me. I challenge you to crank it as much as you possibly can without boring everyone you can – because either way – your heat would set me on fire before it ever brought me down to a loss. How do you think I’ve survived so long with opponents like yourself who outright continue to refuse to acknowledge all that I am?
It’s not the wins that made me, Occulo. It was the losses. It was those special ones where you reach as high as you believe you possibly can only to get rejected. I’ve experienced those bad days enough over and over to make the best of men terrible, but it never shook me. It never got to me. I’m perfectly sane. It’s you, Occulo, and your friend, Dune, that are the ones that cannot quite grasp what it takes to hop in a barrel and roll down a hill that never ends. It’s not until you meet ultimate defeat you truly know what you are worth. Occulo, I’m going to show you exactly what you’re worth.
Scene ended.
