Leviathan Deep In Broden Poonglob

[Wade Moor]

Location: DETHFORT – DENMARK
Time: 23:00 – WODEN
Purpose: XIII GENERAL ASSEMBLY W/ COFFEE CAKES

Moonlight shone through the high arched breezeways of Corey Black's Dethfort as the nine of us convened around a wrought wooden table. Trays of coffee cakes ran across the table, piled high and bountiful in beautiful display. I turned my nose up at them as Jared Holmes and Johnny Rabid took their seats. Jared reached across, grabbed one of the cakes, kicked his feet up on the table, and ripped a bite from the treat in his hand.

“Why don't you sit Wade?” Corey Black asked, banhammer gripped between his meaty fingers.

“I prefer to stand”, I replied.

“Not like you couldn't use it”, Joey Flash whispered under his breath.

“Watch your fuck -”, I started, but Corey Black interrupted.

“That's not why we're here, you fools”, he stated, “Save it for XIII. Save it for our enemies.”

“I'm not going to be there”, Joey added, “Prior engagements.”

“Lazy”, David Sanchez said as Dune stood to his feet, slamming his fists on the table.

“I will kill you without blinking”, Dune uttered calmly.

“I really don't like coffee cakes”, Jayson Price added, nonchalantly.

“I already had like ten of these bitches”, Jared said, “But could we get some Cinnabon or Auntie Anne's next time fuh?”

“I'm in favor of hot wings”, Orbit piped up from the back of the room.

“Oh shit Steve, when did you get here?” Price asked.

“He came with me”, ZMAC added, “We were snorting blow out of a hookers poon. Didn't make sense to take him ALL the way home.”

“Motion to change snacks denied”, Corey Black stated, slamming his hammer down on the table with thunderous might, “Also, Orbit, what's good fam?”

“Oh, not shit man”, he replied, “Just living life, you feel th...”

“Can we get down to business?” I interrupted, “I have some things to take care of tonight.”

Rabid's head dropped down into his hands. Clearly, he was ready to talk brass tacks as well. Jared just kept stuffing his face with the free coffee cakes.

“Of course we can”, Corey replied, the conversation suddenly taking a serious turn, “Now, we all know why we're here...XIII is looming upon us, and it's time to talk opponents. XIII is routinely bad fucking ass, and this year won't be any different. I know a lot of people are going to steer clear, and that's ok. They wouldn't make the cut anyways...but every single one of you in this room is free to choose any match you want. Their are a ton of hungry, up-and-coming contenders willing to step into the line of fire...now, who do you want?”

“I want to kill that faggot Franky”, Jared said, mouthful of cake.

“Ok”, Corey replied, “Who else?”

“Give me Alex Richards”, Rabid said, “He wants my head on a pike...I intend to make that difficult.”

“Done”, Corey replied, “Anyone?”

“I'm not going to be there”, Flash stated again, “Prior engagements.”

Corey looks at Flash through slits in his eyes.

“You're on commentary you twat”, Corey said as Flash crosses his arms and shines the World Championship, "Sancho, you got Diggy?"

“I'm going to fucking kill him”, Sanchez replied.

“Awesome”, Corey replied, “What else do we have?”

I sat by as the others claimed their matches, but I only had one person on my mind, and as the moonlight shone through the windows, I could smell his scent on the air. Sitting in his castle, masturbating to old Playboys while drinking grog and lamenting his past and present.

“I want Odin”, I said, “I want the head of the so called God.”

Corey's face changed as he grit his teeth. It seemed like he was chewing the thought over in his head. On paper, it was great for XIII, but...

“Thing are complicated with Odin”, Corey replied.

“Why?”, I asked.

“Well...we've kinda become best friends, you know?”, he replied.

“What?!” I stated, “Odin doesn't have any friends. Odin only has an ego, and it's time I cut it down.”

“Couldn't you say you have an ego too?” Corey asked.

“Have I not earned it?” I replied, “Have I not put in the work? Am I not leaving behind a legacy of greatness? Do I not stand unopposed? I'm booked weekly on Slam, killing nearly every pleb unlucky enough to cross paths with me...I want a challenge. I want Odin.”

“Look, I'll text him and see if he's down”, Corey replied.

“THAT'S NOT GOOD ENOUGH”, I stated, slamming my fist on the table, sending piles of coffee cakes toppling to the floor.

“Wade, you need to cal --”, but I cut him off.

“Don't ever tell me to calm down, Corey”, I replied, “Now...do the right thing here. I'm sick and tired of being cast off to the side in favor of these men perceived larger than life. Coming into my house to impose their will and law? Fuck that. That ring is the house that GodNilla built, it's the house I work to the bone to keep. I've had it up to here with the Bates' and Odins'.”

I held my hand out to give them visual representation. They seemed to take to it.

“If they were such 'Big Men', they wouldn't consistently shit the bit in every opportunity that is floated their way, coasting on past accolades to bring them forth unto new ones like a bunch of plebeian fucks. They build themselves up to be Gods...but they know not what they say. They know not what wrath they invoke, but you can smell the fear in the air, you can see it in their eyes. They know they are but mortals, and mortal men can be destroyed.

“You give me Odin, and I'll prove my words. This has been a long time coming, and it's time I sink my teeth into this opportunity. This act of Deicide will prove my worth beyond the doubt of the long shadow cast by men like Odin. At XIII, Odin will step into the realm of GodNilla, and I will drag him down to the depths where he belongs.”

“He texted me back”, Corey said, “He said 'LOL OK TELL THE BROWNNOSER TO CHILL'”

“Fucking dick”, I replied, “Why don't you tell him to --”

“Just tell him yourself”, Corey replied, “He lives across the street.”

Location: ACROSS THE STREET FROM THE DETHFORT – DENMARK
Time: 23:20 – WODEN
Purpose: TO EGG ODIN'S CASTLE AND PISS IN THE GARDEN

Twenty minutes later, Jared, Johnny and I had crossed the street and now stood at the gate to Odin's castle. It was a little bit larger than the Dethfort, but not by much.

“Who lives in a fucking castle?” Jared asked, “Like, how small is your fucking dick?”

“I have a mansion”, Rabid replied.

“Exactly what I'm talking about”, Jared added.

“I'll have you know --”, Rabid started, but I cut him off.

“We shouldn't concern ourselves with such trivial things as the size of our dicks”, I replied, “It serves no purpose and only exists as utter nonsense.”

“Isn't that Odin's entire schtick, mate?” Rabid asked.

“He does spend an awful lot of time talking about his dick”, Jared added.

“It's because that's all he has left in this world”, I said, “And it's not much, truth be told. Men like Odin – and yes, I mean men – have coasted on word of mouth and hearsay. 'Odin is the baddest motherfucker in the Dub'...that would be true if he didn't systematically prove the opposite every time he walked out to the ring, getting outed by these perennial bed wetters – the same ones we fuccin murder week in and out - as nothing more than a devout liar. I take it to task to prove this matter once and for all at XIII. Odin doesn't have a chance in hell of walking out of that match with the win...trust me.”

“H---hey!” a voice rang through the intercom at the gate, “Whose out there making all that racket?”

“Se --- Se7en God? Is dat yoo mayn?” Jared replied.

“NO! MY NAME IS VINCENT 'BUDDY' ROMAN AND I...”

“Oh shit, Buddy?!” Jared cut him off, “It's us! It's #BeachKrew! What the hell are you doing here?”

“Oh, boys, it's good to hear from you”, Buddy replied, “But why are you calling me at this hour?”

“What are you talking about? We're at the front gate”, Rabid added.

“This isn't my iDRAWD 7?” Buddy asked.

“What are you doing here?” I asked.

“KAZ?! IS THAT YOO MY BOI MY SON MY HOW IVE MISSED YOU SO ITS BEEN TOO LONG!” Buddy exclaimed.

“No, it's Wade”, I replied, “And you still haven't answered the question.”

“Oh...”, Buddy said, “I thought you were...you sound just like...nevermind that. I'm just here having a sit down tuna on rye with my gentile friends...what's shaking boys? You need money? I don't know what kind of backwoods economics system they have in Denmark but I think I have a few pesos I could spare...”

“No, we don't need money”, Jared replied, “I think we're going to egg Odin's castle and piss in his garden but the gate is locked.”

“Tough break boys”, Buddy replied.

“You could open the gate for us”, Rabid added.

A long, exclaimed sigh comes from the intercom.

“You know I love you boys like my own children”, Buddy replied, “but that would be breaking every rule in the Jewish Handbook. I, under any pretense, can't open this gate for you...I'm sorry. I really am.”

“What a shit manager”, Jared added.

“But I'm not...”, Buddy started, as a frail weeping was heard on the other side, “I'm not your manager. I thought Thuggin was?”

“I haven't seen Thuggin in a right said minute, come to think of it”, I replied, “I thought he was doing some shit with Flash or something?”

“He's been busy running some Slov organization”, Jared replied, “So we've just been kind of managing without him...and I have to say, it's getting really tiresome. I have to make phone calls to people I don't want to talk to, you know how much I hate that.”

“Yeah, it's a pain mate”, Rabid added.

“A real fucking bitch”, I said.

“You want to be our manager, Buddy?” Jared asked.

“I would love to!” Buddy replied, “...but I can't. I'm sorry boys. I'm really wrapped up in some bureaucratic red tape right now.”

“Well what good are you anyways?!” I replied, “You won't let us in, you won't be our manager, I hope you choke on that fucking fish water sandwich you stupid old ki--”

“Wade, please”, Rabid replied.

“I---I have to go”, Buddy stated before hanging up the intercom, leaving the trio in the midnight's silence, save the baying of the hounds loose inside the property.

“So are we going to jump this gate or nah?” Jared asked.

“I say not”, Rabid replied, “Not even worth it. This is a silly place.”

“Don't worry, my friends”, I said, “We shall have our comeuppance on the one called Odin soon enough. This has been too long a time coming.”

I walked towards the intercom, buzzing my voice throughout the whatever-the-fuck Odin's castle is called.

“I hope you can hear me Odin, and I hope you can hear me well...your time in the ring is coming to a sudden and ferocious halt at XIII. I know what you're doing; you're taking me lightly. It's your primitive defense mechanism. 'Extend your arms, make yourself as big as possible, roar to frighten the monsters away'...but you're eight feet tall, I'm out here pissing on your front porch, and you're holed up inside eating unleavened bread because your teeth don't work so great anymore.

“That's all well and good, but taking me lightly won't win you the match. Would one who calls himself a God take the #fuccboiRagnarok lightly? Does Thick not recognize Thick? Come out here and face me like a man!”

I waited, several moments, but no sign of activity from the fort.

“Just as I suspected. You're not Thick. You haven't been Thick for some time now, have you? You're so jilted by blind hatred for forces incomparable to me that you've lost sight of yourself and where you came from. That Pillar you were has been crumbled by the indomitable hands of time and the mantle got swept out from under you without you even noticing...and I thought nothing escaped the ever watchful eye of The Allfather? But it's about to hit you like a Brosiedon Punch from out of nowhere, my man.

“I have news for you, Odin; I am better than you in every facet of the word. I'm a better wrestler, I'm a better champion, and GodNilla damn it, I'm a better God than you. This shouldn't even be up for debate, but I'll give you a minute to plead your case. Go on, please...I'm listening.”

Silence still from the intercom.

“Nothing? Of course you have nothing. You've had nothing since the last bit of your credibility slipped through the cracks in your fingers, you never even stood a chance. Do you need examples?”

“Everything you have decided to be a part of has subsequently died through every fault of your own. When I return, I reinvigorate. I inject life where there is only squalor and prolonged death. Take Pantheon for example: without #BeachKrew, Pantheon would be dead in the waters we left them to drown in. Whose out there, carrying that mantle week in and out? Not Joey Flash. He won the World Championship and took a sabbatical. David Sanchez has the Final Destination briefcase and his head too far up his own ass to see anything. Dune? Price? Corey Black? Where are they?

“Do you remember Imperium? Do you remember The BoomCawk Saints? Do you recall letting them down at every twist and turn? Were you trying to shit on your own legacy? Because that's how you shit on your legacy, Odin. For a legendary and polarizing figure, you sure reek of miserable, pretentious failure. You can't seem to wash that stink off of you, and that's why these noobs jack you to your face. That's why you believe they don't come correct, when in fact they're telling you nothing but the honest to GodNilla's truth. You've fallen off and you can't seem to get back up. But don't worry, I got you on that lifelock Brodin – also known as, being my Norse hellhound bitch at XIII..

“For someone so keen to impose his will and law, he sure has a hard time doing so. These men should be bowing at your feet as you walk by, yet instead they turn their noses up at you. You should be building monuments and painting pictures of pain on these weak willed chicken poon chowder scum, yet they seem to dip you over at every corner.

“I guess that explains why you're bending at the alter of Bernie Sanders you Socialist commy puss. In GodNilla's World, there's no such thing as a hand out. You don't get by on a Legend's contract in my realm. You come out to that ring and you reclaim your territory, something you have failed miserably at every chance you've been given. I'm here stepping to you, and you're laughing me off, pretending I'm some joke...but the punch line is coming in hot and heavy.

“Are you lubed up good? I'm about to shove this Brosiedon fist up your ass good and proper, Odin. You step to me, you better come one hundred. I don't mean that discount All Father bullshit, no dollar store spaghetti ring Jamaican hot pocket All Father, I mean the real thing. The real baddest motherfucker in the Dub. Don't try to discredit me, Odin...because what then will your defense be when I feed you your own ass at XIII?

“I'm the genuine article, Odin. You don't need to use kid gloves on me you old faggot, because I'm not pulling any punches. I'm not stopping until the Odin everyone used to believe in is reduced to nothing more than an effete bed shitter. I'm going Leviathan Deep in the Broden Poonglob right now, fam...but it is only a fraction of the depth I'm going come Friday. I'm going fucking Hardcore on you. I'm going HoRRORKORE on you. I'm shoving it in so deep it'll sever your C-6 vertabrae. Break you in half. Make you fucking humble boi.

“Bring your thousand THICK army you bitch, you're going to need them. Throw your indomitable might at me, come at me as hard as you possibly can. I want to watch the fire burn bright in those dying eyes, so that I may extinguish them heartedly with a simple flick of my wrist. This isn't the Dub you used to know. You look around and wonder why the world went and got itself in a big damn hurry. You showed me just enough rope to hang you with Odin.

“So when we're in the XIII arena, use your ten foot reach to carve your initials into the wooden balcony. 'Here Lies Odin. Don got wrekt by GodNilla'. Leave a lasting impression on these folks as just another legend that couldn't chalk it up in this day and age because they simply refused to evolve with the times. This is our first and final fucking fight, Odin.

“Change, begets change.

“Begets change.”

I continue winding my hand through the air as the hounds begin to calm in the dying moon light. My face turns towards the sky, watching them through slits in my eyes. I see a twinkle in the stars and know that mine own destruction shall rent this land soon enough. I snort, sniffing the air as I turn unto Jared and Johnny, my eyes aglow a deep sapphire hue.

“This whole thing has got me thinking...”, I stated.

“About what?” Jared asked.

“We need change”, I replied, “We need...something different in our lives. We've become stagnant. It's time for something new.”

“Oh?” Rabid interjected, “What did you have in mind, dear brother?”

“I know just the thing”, I replied.

Location: ??
Time: 14:45 – FRIDAY (FUCC UR SHIT NORD CALENDER DAYS)
Purpose: TO SHAKE SHIT UP

“I didn't think you were going to get back to me”, my voice spoke into the darkness.

“Long distance nigga”, a mysteriously familiar voice replied, “I'm rich AF, but can't escape genetics fam. Can't escape them at all.”

“I feel ya”, I replied, “But look...”

The air of the darkness changed...something sinister.

“I have a proposition to lay on you, if you're willing to hear me out?”

The scratching of a beard is heard.

“Go on then youngling”, the mysterious voice replied, “I never thought I'd make a deal widda devil.”

“Nah, the Devil made a deal with us kuh”, I stated.

…
…
…

Fade out in the infinite, ever expanding black-fish darkness.