Evil James
League Member
“The luckiest man who walks on this earth is the one who finds true love.”
-Count Dracula, ‘Bram Stoker’s Dracula’ (1992)
10/03/2009
Elks Lodge
West Springfield, MA
The drive from Logan Airport has been a longer one than I expected. Luckily Rappin‘ Rick Malloy from SCCW is driving the car. Past all of the industrialized and urbanized areas that seem to go on forever is our destination. My agent William Smith got me signed to wrestle on an independent wrestling show as a tune-up for GTT7. The slow traffic is killing me at this point. Must be the morning rush to work. Malloy seems annoyed by it too. The fact that it’s raining isn’t helping matters as we slowly get closer to our destination. We finally find the turn off and get off the interstate before finding the correct street to go down before finally seeing where we need to go.
Arriving to the site of the show with my trusty sidekick, I went inside the quaint little auditorium to find out information about the five way Heavyweight Championship match that I will be participating in at the IWF Autumn Rumble show. Once inside, the head booker let me know about the match and about the placement on the card.
The booker then gave me information on who was in the match and showed me the poster about the show. After that they showed Rick and I to my locker room and let me start getting ready for the match. Once I get my gear on, I tell Malloy that I’m going to go walk around to meet some of the other wrestlers on the show. Since he knows that he’ll have time to do drugs without me watching him, he loves the idea and tells me to make some new friends. Me, have friends? Malloy must really be on drugs to think that I have actual human emotions and feelings of attachment.
At this point, I go walking around the smallish backstage area and talk with my fellow competitors. I made a plan before even arriving here and I am intent on implementing it. My plan is very simple. Make a deal with each of the four wrestlers in the main event and have them either injure one of their opponents so they are unable to compete in the match or, in the case of the face wrestler, make a deal with him to take out the heels. That one would be the hardest.
On my backstage travels, I talk with all four of them and all four of them make a deal with me. The trap is set and the horde of fools fell for it. Once my evil deeds are complete, I sneak back to my locker room and close the door behind me. The evil smirk on my face seems to surprise Malloy, who is used to me being very stoic and unemotional about things.
“Go outside and get the car ready,” I say to him.
“Why?” Malloy asks, a bit puzzled by what is going on.
I turn and look at him with a devious smile.
“Because I’m going to need to make a quick getaway. Go get the bags, put them in the car, and keep it running.”
“What are you up to now?”
“Just wait and see.”
Malloy seems amused by this and appears rather intrigued by this development.
“This is going to be good, isn’t it?”
“Yes it is, Rick. People are going to be talking about this for a long time.”
Malloy laughs and goes over to get the bags ready. The plan is in motion. All I need to do is wait until the time comes where I can watch the victims fall into the trap that I’ve set. This is going to be a great day.
* * *
A few minutes later…
My masterwork is going into action and all the fun is about to begin with me pulling the strings like the Puppetmaster I am. Just down the hallway from my locker room, a wrestler named Viper Vic Creed is sneaking around in the smallish, dimly lit backstage area. His black wrestling boots softly touch the floor without making a sound as he tip toes around. I‘m watching him from the shadows but he doesn‘t see me at all. I’ve been following him very stealthily for the past few minutes kind of like a spider waiting to lure its prey into a trap. For some reason, to me he looks like Kraven the Hunter from Marvel comics. In his right hand he is tightly clutching a silver lead pipe that he plans on using for some dastardly deed. He sneaks over to a corner and peers around it. In the middle of the hallway is American Hero, a masked man who proudly displays the red, white, and blue of the United States on his mask and tights. Both are in the main event match this evening for the IWF Heavyweight Championship.
American Hero hears a noise coming from the other direction. Tilting his head
slightly, he turns to see what made the noise. At this point Viper Vic quickly scampers down the hallway and smashes the lead pipe into the back of his head!
THWACK!
American Hero falls to the floor in a heap. Viper Vic checks to see if he’s unconscious. He hears a noise and looks up only to be hit in the face by someone who has brass knuckles on his fist!
Viper Vic falls to the floor back first and appears to be knocked out. His lead pipe clangs against the tile floor as he falls down. The man who hit him is a Hispanic wrestler by the name of “Dirty” Diego Sanchez, who is dressed like an old school Mexican outlaw. He is also in the main event match on this show. He smiles down at Viper Vic and salutes him.
“Adios, senor,” he says with a slight smirk on his face before walking off. Sanchez walks toward the hallway intersection where Viper Vic was at only moments later. Just as he steps out into the hallway, someone smashes him in the face with a steel chair!
SMASH!
Diego Sanchez is now on the floor in a heap from the sickening chair shot. The man who hit him is “The G Playa” Jamarion Williams, the fourth man in the five way match for the vacated IWF Heavyweight Championship. Williams looks like a gangbanger thug from the streets. He throws down the chair and looks down at his victim.
“You thought you was bad, playa!” he exclaims with a nasty look on his face as he looks down at Sanchez. “There ain’t nobody badder than me! NOBODY!”
I see an opening and I take it. Slithering into the hallway, I pick up the chair that Williams just threw down moments earlier. Williams then turns around and then I smash him right in the face with the bent up steel chair!
BAM!
The sickening thud echoes throughout the hallway as Williams is now down and out on the hallway floor just like the other three wrestlers. I place the chair down on the floor and look down at him with a smile. I’m the fifth of the five men in the main event match and my plan worked to perfection. I look around at the carnage backstage as officials quickly come over to check on all four of the fallen wrestlers as I try to act as concerned as possible.
One of the head officials looks around at the bodies and then turns in my direction. He doesn’t seem to happy with me at all. Of course I do my best to play the innocent witness role at this point since I have no other viable option as to why I would be around when my four opponents attacked each other.
The backstage official, who is a balding, husky man, walks with a purpose in my direction which isn’t a good sign. At this point I start thinking up some sort of elaborate story about how I ended up at the scene of the crime. He stops in front of me, scowling like some sort of movie monster.
“You’re behind this, aren’t you Varga?” he snarls out at me in an angry tone of voice.
I shrug my shoulders, acting as if I don’t know what he possibly could be talking about even though I really was behind the whole thing.
“How could I be?” I reply back to him. “I just happened to be walking around back here and found all of this.”
“I know you, Varga,” he replies with a suspicious look. “If there’s something crazy like this going on, it’s probably something to do with you. Don’t lie to me.”
“Me, lie?” I ask before laughing out loud in response to his query. “You must have me mixed up with somebody else. I’m an honest man, not the lying type. Well, I used to be a liar but I stopped years ago when it got me into trouble. Now I just be as honest as possible so no one can tell me I’m a liar.”
He seems a bit puzzled by this response. It’s almost as if he was halfway expecting me to tell him that I was behind this mess. What a fool.
“Hmmm…”
He now seems to be pondering something. As he does this, another official walks over and whispers something to him. The other official walks back over to the crime scene as the first official sighs.
“Well, it’s match time and we have no match.”
“So what do you want me to do?” I reply back, trying to sound as innocent and sincere as possible to keep myself.
“Go to the ring and we’ll work something out from there.”
“Ok, whatever you say, boss.”
I turn and start walking the other direction toward the gorilla position. When he is out of sight, a sly smile creeps across my face. My plan worked to perfection and even he fell for my lies. This is going far better than expected.
* * *
Moments later…
“Comfortable Liar” by Chevelle starts playing over the loud speakers as I come out from the back with a slow, deliberate walk as the smallish crowd starts booing very loudly. I look at the fans with disdain before reaching the ring and climbing inside for the match. Once in the ring, I continue to look on with disdain at the crowd before smiling deviously. You can almost see the wheels turning inside my skull as the music stops playing and I wait patiently for my opponents to appear, still plotting and scheming every possible scenario like I always do for big time matches like this.
I continue to wait for the other wrestlers to come out but no music plays and the only person who comes out is one of the bookers. He walks out to the ring with a purpose and once he reaches the ring, he calls the announcer over. The announcer walks over the ropes and sticks his head between the top and middle ropes to hear what the booker has to tell him.
The announcer looks puzzled and then walks to the center of the ring. He then looks out to the crowd and seems a bit hesitant to make his announcement. In fact, he almost seems scared about what the crowd might do. This intrigues me so I listen to what he has to say.
“Wrestling fans,” he starts off. “I have just been informed that none of the other participants in this match will be able to compete. So therefore, winning this match via forfeit and the NEW IWF Heavyweight Champion, Varga!”
The crowd starts booing as the confused referee goes over and is handed the belt by the timekeeper. The referee then walks over to me and hands me the belt. At first I look at the belt like I have no idea what happened, but in reality it’s all a lie just like most of the things I’ve said over the past year in front of a camera.
Slowly a smile creeps across my face like a slithering snake as I hold the belt over my head with both hands to a chorus of boos from the capacity crowd. They start throwing garbage into the ring as the referee walks back over to me.
“Get out of the ring and go backstage before there’s a riot,” he says in a forceful tone before quickly jumping outside of the ring and jogging to the back as I look on.
Then I hear a thud in the center of the ring and look over to see a chair right where the noise came from. Another chair comes flying into the ring, hitting the mat fairly close to me. A third chair almost hits me in the head before crashing into the top rope to my right and falling to the mat. At this point, I decide to bail. Climbing between the ropes, the rabid crowd douses me with drinks and garbage as I run to the backstage area to avoid getting killed.
Once backstage, I start quickly walking for the nearest exit until someone starts yelling at me from down the hallway. Whomever it is doesn’t seem to be pleased with what just went down in the arena.
“HEY VARGA!” the person yells at the top of their lungs in an angry tone of voice.
Turning in the direction of the yelling, I look over and see my four opponents staring a hole through me. All four are bandaged up and look to be in a lot of pain.
This fact does not make me feel any better about this situation. My plan has officially backfired and now I’m about to get beat up by a whole horde of crappy indy wrestlers that nobody has ever heard of outside of the lower tier of the PWI 500.
However I did come up with an escape plan long before implementing this master scheme. Smiling at the angry local scene jobbers, I open my mouth to appear as if I’m going to speak to throw them off guard. Instead of responding to them, I turn and run for the exit at full speed. I run out the exit doors with them running out right after me.
The angry mob of independents are right behind me but I’m way ahead of them.
Outside in the rainy conditions, I continue to run at full speed to escape getting caught. While waiting in the rental car I picked up at the airport is Rick Malloy. He is waiting patiently behind the wheel in the driver’s seat as I open up the passenger’s side door and jump inside, closing the door behind me.
“DRIVE! DRIVE!” I exclaim frantically as Malloy nods his head before putting the car in drive and speeding off as the four wrestlers stumble outside. However they are not able to follow us since they didn’t think that we would escape so quickly.
Malloy, who’s probably under the influence of some sort of hallucinogenic drug like he normally is, somehow manages to drive us to the highway and at this point I inform him that we are not leaving from Boston’s Logan International Airport like we came in from since that would make it easy for them to find us after what went down so I got us a flight back to Vegas from La Guardia Airport on Long Island, New York instead. Knowing that it’s further away and none of the wrestlers will be able to find us, he only has one response for this escape plan that I concocted.
“Brilliant.”
* * *
An hour later…
In the backstage area of the Elks Lodge, the only people left are the four wrestlers who were just screwed over by Varga only an hour earlier. The four wrestlers, “Dirty” Diego Sanchez, Viper Vic Creed, “The G Playa” Jamarion Williams, and American Hero have all been comparing notes about what happened ever since Varga escaped the scene before they could do bodily harm to him.
After comparing what Varga told each of them, they figured out what really was going on the whole time. He’d played all of them against each other and worked it to his benefit. He made a separate deal with each of them to take out one of the competitors before the match until there was only one of them left and Varga eliminated that last person himself.
First he conned Viper Vic into attacking American Hero. After that he made a deal with Diego Sanchez to eliminate Viper Vic and lastly he manipulated Williams into attacking Sanchez. Varga then eliminated Williams himself since there was no one left. It also turns out that the sneaky bastard made a deal with American Hero to work together during the match.
All of this information has done nothing but fuel the hatred all four men have toward Varga. Now they are in the process of planning their revenge on the man who ruined things for all of them.
“I bet he got the idea to do this from that movie Dark Knight,” Sanchez says with a growl. “Just like the bank robbery scene where the Joker played all of his goons against each other by enticing them with a bigger share. This Varga bastard did the same thing to us.”
All of them nod their heads in agreement over this while at the same time all of them can’t believe they fell for his lies and bull****.
“He’s a smooth talker,” Viper Vic replies with a scowl. “He told each of us exactly what we wanted to hear and it’s our fault for listening to him. The man is more of a snake than I am. He’s nothing but a dirty snake in the grass.”
American Hero can only shake his head at this point. The scowl under his mask isn’t visible, but his eyes clearly are filled with hate.
“He is a disgrace to this country!” American Hero roars out in a burst of anger that makes the rest of the group take notice. None of them have ever seen him like this before. He is the most mild, well mannered wrestler in the entire region and to see him like this is shocking to say the least.
“Calm down, homie,” Williams responds as calmly as he can. “This mutha ****a ain’t street wise like some of us. He may be a smart mutha ****a but that don’t mean he ain’t gonna feel da pain. I want to hurt him. I wanna kill that mutha ****a!”
“I like that idea,” Sanchez replies quickly with an evil grin. All four men then share knowing looks before one of them finally speaks up.
“Alright, let’s kill him,” American Hero says as he smiles for the first time since before he was sneak attacked by Viper Vic. “A lot of people want him dead. He won’t be missed.”
All four men again look at each other and smile. They know what must be done. James Varga must die and they will be the instrument of his demise.
* * *
Two days later…
I wake up in my bed and sit up, stretching before I get out of bed. I don’t open the blinds but instead look over at the clock.
“One already?” I mutter to myself before opening my bedroom door and stumbling blindly out into the hallway. I wander down to the open door of the computer room before walking inside.
Going over to the computer desk, I sit down in the rolling chair and turn on the monitor. After the computer starts up, I’m get online and start looking at the GTT7 website at the various other competitors in it. A few minutes later, the phone rings. I let it ring twice before reaching over and picking it up.
“Hello?”
The person on the other line then tells me that they are going to kill me. I can only laugh at this. I get at least one of these a week so it’s no big deal. These death threat phone calls have actually become amusing to me at this point.
“Yeah right. Call again next week.”
I hang up the phone and turn back to the computer. The phone starts ringing again.
I roll my eyes and reach over to pick up the phone again.
“Hello?”
The same voice starts telling me that I’m going to be killed and that they will be the person that kills me.
“**** off.”
Once again I hang the phone up and go back to my computing only this time the phone doesn’t ring again. The minutes seem to tick by slowly until I hear a noise behind me. It’s a loud yawn. Turning around, I see Rappin’ Rick Malloy walking into the doorway. His beard is still frazzled like it normally is, his hair is standing up on the top of his head, and he is wearing a suit with sunglasses over his eyes. For some reason, the only thing I can think of when I look at him is “Joliet” Jake Blues but homeless and on drugs.
He looks at the computer screen for a moment before finally speaking up.
“What are you doing on the GTT7 website this early in the morning for?” he asks, still clearly a bit out of it as he yawns once more.
“It’s not morning,” I reply, motioning toward the sunlight coming in through the window. “It’s one forty five in the afternoon and I have to get ready and be out of here by three.”
“Oh,” he says as he looks over at the clock on the edge of the computer desk.
“Didn’t realize that. But why are you on the GTT7 website though? You never answered that.”
“I’m looking…at all the victims.”
“You are one sick bastard, Varga.”
“Of course I am and it’s going to take a sick bastard to win this tournament. Now look at all the people in this thing. There’s seventy four different wrestlers entered including myself. This is a bigger tournament field than there is for the NCAA Basketball tournament.”
“And no one in this is on a team either, James.”
“Nope, you’re wrong on that one buddy. See I’ve already gotten myself into seventy two alliances so there’s no chance of me losing since I’m working with just about everyone else in this tournament in a secret alliance.”
Malloy seems really skeptical about this when I tell him. However he usually has white nostrils or is shrooming so he never believes anything I tell him anyway. He just laughs like a hyena from the Lion King and then goes about his usual routine of talking to himself, rapping, doing drugs, drinking, and then banging a hooker before going to sleep.
“Seventy two alliances?”
“Yes, seventy two alliances. That is correct.”
“How the hell can you be in alliances with everyone else in the tournament?”
“Well some of them don’t even know that we’re in an alliance yet.”
“How can you be in alliances with people and they not know about it?”
“Because if they think that I have no chance of beating them, then I can control them. They don’t see me as a threat and if they don’t see me as a threat, then they’re more apt to make a deal with me if I approach them. And if I’m working with my opponents and they’re too dumb to realize it, then I can sucker them into a false sense of security. That will give me the advantage over them going by a strategic standpoint.”
“You really are Evil James.”
“Of course I am. That’s the one thing I’m not lying about.”
“So who are you matched up against in round one? I think you told me but I forgot.”
“You were probably stoned.”
“Probably.”
I click off of the GTT7 website homepage and onto the participants list. For some reason, Rick’s eyes light up as he looks at the computer screen. He licks his lips like a hungry animal about to go in for the kill as I give him a puzzled look.
“You alright?”
“Yeah. I just saw something I like on the computer screen.”
I give him a look as the doorbell rings, echoing throughout my house like it’s a cave. Malloy points at the computer screen. I can already tell he wants to look at whatever it is that drew his attention earlier.
“Can I get on the computer to look at this website while you go get the door?”
I shrug my shoulders.
“Sure, why not. What harm can come of this?”
At this point I get up from the rolling computer chair and leave the computer room to get the door as Malloy sits down in the computer chair as I head down the hallway. The doorbell rings again much to my annoyance.
“I’LL BE RIGHT THERE!”
Stupid idiot, whomever it is. Probably one of my numerous associates. Once at the door, I unlock it and open the door only to be greeted by my agent William Smith. He’s in his usual casual business attire and clearly has something on his mind in regards to me.
“Hello James,” he says with a toothy smile.
“Yo,” I reply with a nod of the head. “What‘s up?”
“Just coming by to chill, as always.”
“Well come on in. It’s just me and Rappin’ Rick here chillin’ like we normally do.”
“Malloy’s here?” he asks with a tinge of disgust in his voice. Whenever I mention Malloy, he acts like I’m talking about killing baby fetuses or something. However, when they start hanging out, they’re the best of friends. Go figure.
“Yeah, he’s been here for about five days straight. Now I know how Jerry
Seinfeld felt with Kramer always mooching off of him.”
Smith comes inside as I close and lock the door behind him. We then head into the living room only to hear a loud noise coming from inside the computer room. Smith looks at me and we exchange knowing looks. At this point I can only roll my eyes and hope for the best.
“If that cokehead broke my computer, I’m going to be pissed.”
“I didn’t hear any crashing or breaking noises,” Smith says, trying to keep me from blowing a gasket over something that probably didn’t happen as we head past the living room to the hallway. “Let’s just check it out first.”
Once back in the computer room, we find Rick Malloy staring at the computer screen before almost freaking out over something moments later. His
“Who’s this?! Who’s this?!” Malloy exclaims as he points to a picture of a woman that is currently on the computer monitor.
I turn and look at the computer screen to see a picture of Vivica J. Valentine.
“That’s Vivica J. Valentine from GCW,” I reply back as he starts looking around the computer desk for something. “She’s one of the top wrestlers in the world.”
Malloy frantically is trying to find whatever it is that he’s looking for. Maybe he forgot where he put his bag of white powder and the razor he uses to cut it. Most likely it was stolen by that drug addict Captain Justice from NFW.
“Do you have a pen and paper?” he asks in an excited voice. “I need to write these names down!”
“Why?”
“Because this is like a buffet!” Rick responds excitedly like a little kid on the Toys R Us website or Skylar Montgomery narrating his own story with a hand down his pants. “The next time I go on the PTC forums I’m going to try to pick one of them up!”
At this point I can only shake my head and try to talk him out of it even though I know it will do no good.
“I think that’s a bad idea, Rick,” I reply in a somewhat stern tone of voice. “You might get kicked off of there.”
He turns and gives me the most strange, goofy look I’ve ever seen in my life before turning back to the computer screen.
“How can I get kicked off of there when I don’t even have a forums user account?” he asks as he stops using the mouse and grabs a pen he sees laying on the desk to the left of the keyboard. At this point he starts looking around for paper to write on.
“He does have a point, James,” Smith tells me. “Besides, it won’t hurt you, only him.”
“True,” I respond. They have a good point. I’m already in the tournament, I have my own account which is separate from his, and if he screws up, it’s not my fault.
“I’m going to make an account after I look at all of these GTT babes,” Malloy says with a mischievous grin.
“You can do all that while I’m on my date,” I say to them. For some reason, they both stop what they are doing and give me the same strange look.
“You have a date?” he asks with a skeptical look. Smith never believes me whenever I tell him about dates. He always seems to think that I’ve got some sort of evil scheme going on that I don’t want him to know about.
“Yes.”
“When the hell did this happen?” he asks, a bit intrigued by this development. He for some reason views me as his entertainment for the week.
“A few days ago. Why?”
“How the hell did you get a date?” Malloy asks in a elevated and excited tone of voice. “You’re the ****ing Third Antichrist!”
At this point I can only roll my eyes at my coke snorting colleague. Comments like that make me almost want to kill him sometimes, but I never do. I have come close to having someone else kill him for me.
“Thanks for that bode of confidence,” I respond before looking at the time on the wall clock. Have to get ready soon otherwise we‘ll be late for the restaurant reservations I made. “But I have to go get ready now.”
“You do that while we look at the *****es,” Malloy replies as he goes back to drooling over the female competitors in the tournament. He then clicks onto Desade’s profile and he about spazzes out as Smith and I look on. However, Smith licks his lips and decides to join in on the hornball madness that is going on.
“The FINE *****es,” Smith says as he and Malloy high five, laughing and pointing at the picture on the monitor.
“Have fun crushing some ***** tonight with the Vargahammer,” Malloy says as they both start laughing once more and high five again. It’s like being in the middle of the sophomore class at a high school somewhere. Well, either that or surrounded by the characters in a teenage slasher flick. Neither option sounds too tempting to me.
They both hover over the monitor as I shake my head and walk out of the computer room. As I head down the hallway and walk into my bedroom, I hear one of them exclaim “write her name down” much to my disgust.
I head for the closet and start pulling out some nice formal wear for dinner. I have to look nice. Don’t want to screw it up again with her. This’ll probably my last chance with her if I do and she’s the one woman I’ve actually had feelings for. If I screw this up then I’ll never be able to live with myself.
Do I…
No, I can’t. It can’t be…
Am I actually in love with a woman?
…
Nah, I’m a heartless, despicable villain. I lie to everybody and am hated by most people. There’s no way I have actual human feelings inside my cold, soulless body.
“Laurie,” I whisper to myself as I grab a pair of pants. Maybe I do actually have feelings for her. This is like when the Grinch’s heart grew three sizes in the cartoon.
After I have my clothes, I walk across my dimly lit bedroom over to the dresser to get a pair of socks and a pair of boxers. Once I have everything, I go back to the closet and open it up so I can slip on a nice pair of dress shoes so I won’t drop all of my clothes all over the floor. After a close inspection, I find a suitable pair and slip them on so I don‘t have to carry them. At this point I head out into the hallway and walk into the bathroom, closing and locking the door behind me so I can take a shower in peace while my two crazy friends look up hot chicks online.
* * *
Forty-five minutes later…
After finishing my shower, getting dressed, and getting ready, I finally come out of the bathroom and walk back into my room to put my dirty clothes into the hamper.
Then I hear some yelling and laughing from the computer room. Go over to my night stand and get my house keys, car keys, wallet, cellphone, and sunglasses only to hear more loud noises from the computer room.
At first I’m puzzled but then I remember that Malloy and Smith are in the computer room. Walking down the hallway and then into the computer room, I find the two hollering and screaming about something on the computer screen. Upon closer inspection, there are some empty beers cans on the computer desk and a bottle of Jack Daniels is sitting by the monitor as well. This is going to be an interesting conversation to say the least.
“What the hell is going on in here?” I ask, throwing my arms up in disbelief as both of them casually look in my direction in a nonchalant manner before turning back to the computer screen.
“Hey James,” Malloy mutters out before turning back to the computer monitor as Smith also looks over with a big smile on his face.
“Hey James,” Smith responds excitedly. “We’re just on the PTC forums and it’s utterly ****ing hilarious dude!”
“What’s going on?” I ask, a bit amused and intrigued by what the other two members of my Bermuda Triangle are up to. “Is Rick trying to pick up chicks or something?”
“First I got booted off the forums by this guy named Pete,” Malloy says. “Because I decided to use a fake name to keep you from getting in trouble,”
“What was your fake name?”
“Rich Ammons.”
At this point I start laughing hysterically because I know exactly why this happened. That makes it even funnier to me to the point where even a soulless bastard like myself cracks a smile.
“Oh dear lord,” I ask him, knowing full well that Malloy was probably snorting coke off of a hooker‘s breast or something when he made that fake name up.
“How the hell did you come up with that name?”
“Just popped into my head,” he replies. “But then I rejoined under the name Benny Jenner and they booted me again but I was fine after I signed up under my real name since some of the wrestlers there know me from SCCW.”
Smith is laughing at the top of his lungs now.
“This is the best part!” Smith says as he’s doubled over with laughter.
“Then I got on there and tried to pick up Desade but it turns out it was some dude named Joe,” Malloy continues. “And the same thing with Vivica. It was some guy named Billy! I was pissed. None of these chicks are on the forums! There’s was this one chick named Aimz on there but when I asked her if she liked to snort cocaine and have animal sex but she reported me! This Argyle guy then gave me one warning before he would ban me.”
“…”
“It’s a joke,” Malloy says, shaking his head. He almost seems to be on the verge of tears. “I’ll never get to crush some ***** at this rate!”
I can only stare at him in disbelief as my eyes slowly wander to the clock at the end of the desk. It’s two forty five and I have to leave.
“Ok boys,” I say to them. “I’m out. Have to pick up Laurie soon. Don’t tear down the place why I’m out.”
“We won’t,” Malloy replies with a sly smile. I can immediately tell that he is lying.
“I’ll keep him out of trouble,” Smith replies with a laugh before grabbing the Jack Daniels bottle off of the computer desk and taking a chug from it.
I then head out of the computer room and walk down the hallway through the living room and out the door. I lock the door behind me and head to my car in the drive way but when I walk outside, someone walks from across the yard toward me.
“You’re time here is coming to an end,” he tells me as I stop walking to the car and turn in his direction. He is wearing a tan colored trench coat, jeans, a black T-shirt with an American flag on it, and an American flag colored mask.
“Is that so, Captain America?” I ask him with a chuckle over his little superhero mask.
“Yes,” he replies back, staring a hole through me from under his mask. “You’re a dead man.”
I shrug my shoulders. I could care less if some guy is telling me I’m going to get killed but I do care about this idiot making me late for my date.
“Yeah, whatever. I’m gonna die, everybody dies. I’m late for my date.”
Walking over to my car, I open up the driver’s side door and get inside before closing the door behind me as he yells out something about me “being sorry.”
Starting up the car, I simply back out of the drive-way and head to Laurie’s house to pick her up. I don’t need this “I’m gonna kill you” crap right now. I have more important matters at hand.
* * *
Two hours later…
After arriving back to my house after eating dinner at PF Chang‘s China Bistro, I notice a lot more cars than usual parked on the street by my house. After parking in the driveway and shutting off the ignition, I then notice that all of the loud noise on the street is coming from my place.
“Oh great,” I mutter out.
“What’s wrong?” Laurie asks me.
“I don’t know for sure, but I’ve got a pretty good idea who’s behind it.”
We get out of the car, closing the door behind us as we walk up to my front door.
I hear yelling inside followed by a crash. I’m about at the point where I want to kill Malloy and Smith. If those two ruin this for me, then they’d better arm themselves fast because not matter how much I like them, they will feel the pain. Pulling my keys out of my pocket, I quickly open up the door and find a wild scene inside of my living room.
The place is packed with all of my friends, associates, and a few others that I honestly do not know. A bunch of guys are on the couch watching college football, there’s some drunk wrestlers I know getting beers out of the refrigerator, and everyone else is dancing around or acting crazy except for the four guys I don‘t recognize in the back of the room who are glaring at me. Maybe I owe them money. I’m about to blow my gasket at this point.
“What is going on here?!” I exclaim in a loud, booming voice as everyone looks over in my direction. Malloy and Smith come running over, bottles of beer in hand, to greet me. I wish I had a knife. I’d channel Jason Voorhees and stab them both.
“We decided to throw a party!” Smith says, holding up his glass for a cheer.
“Yeah!” Malloy exclaims, his breath wreaking of weed and alcohol. “HAIL TIONEB BABY!”
I then look around at the party and remember why I’m pissed off.
“What the **** are you guys doing?” I ask, motioning around at all the chaos around me. “I bring my date home and we find this.”
“Don’t be mad at us,” Smith replies. “Glass told us we should do this.”
“Glass? You mean Mr. Glass from PPW?”
“No, Matt Glass.”
Shaking my head, it all comes together at this point. Glass has been trying to get back at me ever since his investment in the Church of the Unholy fell apart and this is his payback. Perfect timing, too. If he cockblocks me, I’m going to be like Mike Tyson against Evander Holyfield and go on a homicide spree.
“That idiot. I bet he’s on the computer listening to death metal while watching Youtube videos like he normally does.”
“How did you know what he was doing?”
“Lucky guess.”
“Oh, and Falter called. He was wondering about this UTI error code he keeps getting on his computer and wants you to call him back.”
“Why? Who does he think I am? Bill Gates at Microsoft?”
“No, he thinks you are Varga.”
I sigh and look around at the chaos that my two brethren and the rest of my various associates have caused, motioning around again before throwing my arms up in disgust over what is going on and about my date situation, which obviously is spiraling out of control.
“Now what am I going to do about my date? We obviously can’t be here with it looking like the Delta Tau Chi House from the movie Animal House.”
“True,” he responds. “What are you going to do now?”
“Well it looks like we’re going to her place then.”
“Lovely,” he replies, looking at my date with lusty eyes before calling me closer to whisper something. “James, let me ask you something. Is she shaved down there?”
“EWWWW! NO! Like I would tell you that!”
Just then two of my former associates, Phillip Sanders (aka the Masked Halloween Psycho Killer) and Dan Browning (aka Unholy Druid #12), walking over to me. Sanders has a full bottle of Bud Light in one hand and a half empty bottle of Fosters in the other hand while Browning is
“Have a beer, Varga,” Sanders says as he passes me the Bud Light before walking away as he chugs down the rest of the Fosters. Browning is completely out of control and dancing around.
“Hey Varga!” Browning exclaims in a loud, high pitched voice. “WHOOOOO! PARTY TIME!”
Browning and Sanders then run off somewhere leaving me and the rest of the Bermuda Triangle. Malloy then reaches into his pocket and pulls out a condom before discretely handing it to me.
“Have fun, bro,” Malloy says with a devious grin, putting his fist out there. Smiling now as I quickly put the condom in my pocket, I bump fists with him. “Use the Vargahammer on that *****.”
“I will,” I respond with a smile before walking back over to the door where Laurie is waiting for me. Smiling, I walk over to her and try to come up with something to say that won’t mess things up.
“Honey, looks like we’re going to your place,” I tell her trying to sound as calm as possible even though I’m about to go nuts.
“Good call,” she says as I quickly walk her back out through the front door and out of the house.
Once outside, we head back for my car and get inside. This plan didn’t work out as good as I had hoped but it still worked out nonetheless. The darkness that has covered my entire existence is slowly being replaced by the light I’ve been seeking. I just hope my life doesn’t spiral into oblivion like it always does. At least this is a good start in the right direction. Too bad people are trying to kill me right when I finally get my life on track.
-Count Dracula, ‘Bram Stoker’s Dracula’ (1992)
10/03/2009
Elks Lodge
West Springfield, MA
The drive from Logan Airport has been a longer one than I expected. Luckily Rappin‘ Rick Malloy from SCCW is driving the car. Past all of the industrialized and urbanized areas that seem to go on forever is our destination. My agent William Smith got me signed to wrestle on an independent wrestling show as a tune-up for GTT7. The slow traffic is killing me at this point. Must be the morning rush to work. Malloy seems annoyed by it too. The fact that it’s raining isn’t helping matters as we slowly get closer to our destination. We finally find the turn off and get off the interstate before finding the correct street to go down before finally seeing where we need to go.
Arriving to the site of the show with my trusty sidekick, I went inside the quaint little auditorium to find out information about the five way Heavyweight Championship match that I will be participating in at the IWF Autumn Rumble show. Once inside, the head booker let me know about the match and about the placement on the card.
The booker then gave me information on who was in the match and showed me the poster about the show. After that they showed Rick and I to my locker room and let me start getting ready for the match. Once I get my gear on, I tell Malloy that I’m going to go walk around to meet some of the other wrestlers on the show. Since he knows that he’ll have time to do drugs without me watching him, he loves the idea and tells me to make some new friends. Me, have friends? Malloy must really be on drugs to think that I have actual human emotions and feelings of attachment.
At this point, I go walking around the smallish backstage area and talk with my fellow competitors. I made a plan before even arriving here and I am intent on implementing it. My plan is very simple. Make a deal with each of the four wrestlers in the main event and have them either injure one of their opponents so they are unable to compete in the match or, in the case of the face wrestler, make a deal with him to take out the heels. That one would be the hardest.
On my backstage travels, I talk with all four of them and all four of them make a deal with me. The trap is set and the horde of fools fell for it. Once my evil deeds are complete, I sneak back to my locker room and close the door behind me. The evil smirk on my face seems to surprise Malloy, who is used to me being very stoic and unemotional about things.
“Go outside and get the car ready,” I say to him.
“Why?” Malloy asks, a bit puzzled by what is going on.
I turn and look at him with a devious smile.
“Because I’m going to need to make a quick getaway. Go get the bags, put them in the car, and keep it running.”
“What are you up to now?”
“Just wait and see.”
Malloy seems amused by this and appears rather intrigued by this development.
“This is going to be good, isn’t it?”
“Yes it is, Rick. People are going to be talking about this for a long time.”
Malloy laughs and goes over to get the bags ready. The plan is in motion. All I need to do is wait until the time comes where I can watch the victims fall into the trap that I’ve set. This is going to be a great day.
* * *
A few minutes later…
My masterwork is going into action and all the fun is about to begin with me pulling the strings like the Puppetmaster I am. Just down the hallway from my locker room, a wrestler named Viper Vic Creed is sneaking around in the smallish, dimly lit backstage area. His black wrestling boots softly touch the floor without making a sound as he tip toes around. I‘m watching him from the shadows but he doesn‘t see me at all. I’ve been following him very stealthily for the past few minutes kind of like a spider waiting to lure its prey into a trap. For some reason, to me he looks like Kraven the Hunter from Marvel comics. In his right hand he is tightly clutching a silver lead pipe that he plans on using for some dastardly deed. He sneaks over to a corner and peers around it. In the middle of the hallway is American Hero, a masked man who proudly displays the red, white, and blue of the United States on his mask and tights. Both are in the main event match this evening for the IWF Heavyweight Championship.
American Hero hears a noise coming from the other direction. Tilting his head
slightly, he turns to see what made the noise. At this point Viper Vic quickly scampers down the hallway and smashes the lead pipe into the back of his head!
THWACK!
American Hero falls to the floor in a heap. Viper Vic checks to see if he’s unconscious. He hears a noise and looks up only to be hit in the face by someone who has brass knuckles on his fist!
Viper Vic falls to the floor back first and appears to be knocked out. His lead pipe clangs against the tile floor as he falls down. The man who hit him is a Hispanic wrestler by the name of “Dirty” Diego Sanchez, who is dressed like an old school Mexican outlaw. He is also in the main event match on this show. He smiles down at Viper Vic and salutes him.
“Adios, senor,” he says with a slight smirk on his face before walking off. Sanchez walks toward the hallway intersection where Viper Vic was at only moments later. Just as he steps out into the hallway, someone smashes him in the face with a steel chair!
SMASH!
Diego Sanchez is now on the floor in a heap from the sickening chair shot. The man who hit him is “The G Playa” Jamarion Williams, the fourth man in the five way match for the vacated IWF Heavyweight Championship. Williams looks like a gangbanger thug from the streets. He throws down the chair and looks down at his victim.
“You thought you was bad, playa!” he exclaims with a nasty look on his face as he looks down at Sanchez. “There ain’t nobody badder than me! NOBODY!”
I see an opening and I take it. Slithering into the hallway, I pick up the chair that Williams just threw down moments earlier. Williams then turns around and then I smash him right in the face with the bent up steel chair!
BAM!
The sickening thud echoes throughout the hallway as Williams is now down and out on the hallway floor just like the other three wrestlers. I place the chair down on the floor and look down at him with a smile. I’m the fifth of the five men in the main event match and my plan worked to perfection. I look around at the carnage backstage as officials quickly come over to check on all four of the fallen wrestlers as I try to act as concerned as possible.
One of the head officials looks around at the bodies and then turns in my direction. He doesn’t seem to happy with me at all. Of course I do my best to play the innocent witness role at this point since I have no other viable option as to why I would be around when my four opponents attacked each other.
The backstage official, who is a balding, husky man, walks with a purpose in my direction which isn’t a good sign. At this point I start thinking up some sort of elaborate story about how I ended up at the scene of the crime. He stops in front of me, scowling like some sort of movie monster.
“You’re behind this, aren’t you Varga?” he snarls out at me in an angry tone of voice.
I shrug my shoulders, acting as if I don’t know what he possibly could be talking about even though I really was behind the whole thing.
“How could I be?” I reply back to him. “I just happened to be walking around back here and found all of this.”
“I know you, Varga,” he replies with a suspicious look. “If there’s something crazy like this going on, it’s probably something to do with you. Don’t lie to me.”
“Me, lie?” I ask before laughing out loud in response to his query. “You must have me mixed up with somebody else. I’m an honest man, not the lying type. Well, I used to be a liar but I stopped years ago when it got me into trouble. Now I just be as honest as possible so no one can tell me I’m a liar.”
He seems a bit puzzled by this response. It’s almost as if he was halfway expecting me to tell him that I was behind this mess. What a fool.
“Hmmm…”
He now seems to be pondering something. As he does this, another official walks over and whispers something to him. The other official walks back over to the crime scene as the first official sighs.
“Well, it’s match time and we have no match.”
“So what do you want me to do?” I reply back, trying to sound as innocent and sincere as possible to keep myself.
“Go to the ring and we’ll work something out from there.”
“Ok, whatever you say, boss.”
I turn and start walking the other direction toward the gorilla position. When he is out of sight, a sly smile creeps across my face. My plan worked to perfection and even he fell for my lies. This is going far better than expected.
* * *
Moments later…
“Comfortable Liar” by Chevelle starts playing over the loud speakers as I come out from the back with a slow, deliberate walk as the smallish crowd starts booing very loudly. I look at the fans with disdain before reaching the ring and climbing inside for the match. Once in the ring, I continue to look on with disdain at the crowd before smiling deviously. You can almost see the wheels turning inside my skull as the music stops playing and I wait patiently for my opponents to appear, still plotting and scheming every possible scenario like I always do for big time matches like this.
I continue to wait for the other wrestlers to come out but no music plays and the only person who comes out is one of the bookers. He walks out to the ring with a purpose and once he reaches the ring, he calls the announcer over. The announcer walks over the ropes and sticks his head between the top and middle ropes to hear what the booker has to tell him.
The announcer looks puzzled and then walks to the center of the ring. He then looks out to the crowd and seems a bit hesitant to make his announcement. In fact, he almost seems scared about what the crowd might do. This intrigues me so I listen to what he has to say.
“Wrestling fans,” he starts off. “I have just been informed that none of the other participants in this match will be able to compete. So therefore, winning this match via forfeit and the NEW IWF Heavyweight Champion, Varga!”
The crowd starts booing as the confused referee goes over and is handed the belt by the timekeeper. The referee then walks over to me and hands me the belt. At first I look at the belt like I have no idea what happened, but in reality it’s all a lie just like most of the things I’ve said over the past year in front of a camera.
Slowly a smile creeps across my face like a slithering snake as I hold the belt over my head with both hands to a chorus of boos from the capacity crowd. They start throwing garbage into the ring as the referee walks back over to me.
“Get out of the ring and go backstage before there’s a riot,” he says in a forceful tone before quickly jumping outside of the ring and jogging to the back as I look on.
Then I hear a thud in the center of the ring and look over to see a chair right where the noise came from. Another chair comes flying into the ring, hitting the mat fairly close to me. A third chair almost hits me in the head before crashing into the top rope to my right and falling to the mat. At this point, I decide to bail. Climbing between the ropes, the rabid crowd douses me with drinks and garbage as I run to the backstage area to avoid getting killed.
Once backstage, I start quickly walking for the nearest exit until someone starts yelling at me from down the hallway. Whomever it is doesn’t seem to be pleased with what just went down in the arena.
“HEY VARGA!” the person yells at the top of their lungs in an angry tone of voice.
Turning in the direction of the yelling, I look over and see my four opponents staring a hole through me. All four are bandaged up and look to be in a lot of pain.
This fact does not make me feel any better about this situation. My plan has officially backfired and now I’m about to get beat up by a whole horde of crappy indy wrestlers that nobody has ever heard of outside of the lower tier of the PWI 500.
However I did come up with an escape plan long before implementing this master scheme. Smiling at the angry local scene jobbers, I open my mouth to appear as if I’m going to speak to throw them off guard. Instead of responding to them, I turn and run for the exit at full speed. I run out the exit doors with them running out right after me.
The angry mob of independents are right behind me but I’m way ahead of them.
Outside in the rainy conditions, I continue to run at full speed to escape getting caught. While waiting in the rental car I picked up at the airport is Rick Malloy. He is waiting patiently behind the wheel in the driver’s seat as I open up the passenger’s side door and jump inside, closing the door behind me.
“DRIVE! DRIVE!” I exclaim frantically as Malloy nods his head before putting the car in drive and speeding off as the four wrestlers stumble outside. However they are not able to follow us since they didn’t think that we would escape so quickly.
Malloy, who’s probably under the influence of some sort of hallucinogenic drug like he normally is, somehow manages to drive us to the highway and at this point I inform him that we are not leaving from Boston’s Logan International Airport like we came in from since that would make it easy for them to find us after what went down so I got us a flight back to Vegas from La Guardia Airport on Long Island, New York instead. Knowing that it’s further away and none of the wrestlers will be able to find us, he only has one response for this escape plan that I concocted.
“Brilliant.”
* * *
An hour later…
In the backstage area of the Elks Lodge, the only people left are the four wrestlers who were just screwed over by Varga only an hour earlier. The four wrestlers, “Dirty” Diego Sanchez, Viper Vic Creed, “The G Playa” Jamarion Williams, and American Hero have all been comparing notes about what happened ever since Varga escaped the scene before they could do bodily harm to him.
After comparing what Varga told each of them, they figured out what really was going on the whole time. He’d played all of them against each other and worked it to his benefit. He made a separate deal with each of them to take out one of the competitors before the match until there was only one of them left and Varga eliminated that last person himself.
First he conned Viper Vic into attacking American Hero. After that he made a deal with Diego Sanchez to eliminate Viper Vic and lastly he manipulated Williams into attacking Sanchez. Varga then eliminated Williams himself since there was no one left. It also turns out that the sneaky bastard made a deal with American Hero to work together during the match.
All of this information has done nothing but fuel the hatred all four men have toward Varga. Now they are in the process of planning their revenge on the man who ruined things for all of them.
“I bet he got the idea to do this from that movie Dark Knight,” Sanchez says with a growl. “Just like the bank robbery scene where the Joker played all of his goons against each other by enticing them with a bigger share. This Varga bastard did the same thing to us.”
All of them nod their heads in agreement over this while at the same time all of them can’t believe they fell for his lies and bull****.
“He’s a smooth talker,” Viper Vic replies with a scowl. “He told each of us exactly what we wanted to hear and it’s our fault for listening to him. The man is more of a snake than I am. He’s nothing but a dirty snake in the grass.”
American Hero can only shake his head at this point. The scowl under his mask isn’t visible, but his eyes clearly are filled with hate.
“He is a disgrace to this country!” American Hero roars out in a burst of anger that makes the rest of the group take notice. None of them have ever seen him like this before. He is the most mild, well mannered wrestler in the entire region and to see him like this is shocking to say the least.
“Calm down, homie,” Williams responds as calmly as he can. “This mutha ****a ain’t street wise like some of us. He may be a smart mutha ****a but that don’t mean he ain’t gonna feel da pain. I want to hurt him. I wanna kill that mutha ****a!”
“I like that idea,” Sanchez replies quickly with an evil grin. All four men then share knowing looks before one of them finally speaks up.
“Alright, let’s kill him,” American Hero says as he smiles for the first time since before he was sneak attacked by Viper Vic. “A lot of people want him dead. He won’t be missed.”
All four men again look at each other and smile. They know what must be done. James Varga must die and they will be the instrument of his demise.
* * *
Two days later…
I wake up in my bed and sit up, stretching before I get out of bed. I don’t open the blinds but instead look over at the clock.
“One already?” I mutter to myself before opening my bedroom door and stumbling blindly out into the hallway. I wander down to the open door of the computer room before walking inside.
Going over to the computer desk, I sit down in the rolling chair and turn on the monitor. After the computer starts up, I’m get online and start looking at the GTT7 website at the various other competitors in it. A few minutes later, the phone rings. I let it ring twice before reaching over and picking it up.
“Hello?”
The person on the other line then tells me that they are going to kill me. I can only laugh at this. I get at least one of these a week so it’s no big deal. These death threat phone calls have actually become amusing to me at this point.
“Yeah right. Call again next week.”
I hang up the phone and turn back to the computer. The phone starts ringing again.
I roll my eyes and reach over to pick up the phone again.
“Hello?”
The same voice starts telling me that I’m going to be killed and that they will be the person that kills me.
“**** off.”
Once again I hang the phone up and go back to my computing only this time the phone doesn’t ring again. The minutes seem to tick by slowly until I hear a noise behind me. It’s a loud yawn. Turning around, I see Rappin’ Rick Malloy walking into the doorway. His beard is still frazzled like it normally is, his hair is standing up on the top of his head, and he is wearing a suit with sunglasses over his eyes. For some reason, the only thing I can think of when I look at him is “Joliet” Jake Blues but homeless and on drugs.
He looks at the computer screen for a moment before finally speaking up.
“What are you doing on the GTT7 website this early in the morning for?” he asks, still clearly a bit out of it as he yawns once more.
“It’s not morning,” I reply, motioning toward the sunlight coming in through the window. “It’s one forty five in the afternoon and I have to get ready and be out of here by three.”
“Oh,” he says as he looks over at the clock on the edge of the computer desk.
“Didn’t realize that. But why are you on the GTT7 website though? You never answered that.”
“I’m looking…at all the victims.”
“You are one sick bastard, Varga.”
“Of course I am and it’s going to take a sick bastard to win this tournament. Now look at all the people in this thing. There’s seventy four different wrestlers entered including myself. This is a bigger tournament field than there is for the NCAA Basketball tournament.”
“And no one in this is on a team either, James.”
“Nope, you’re wrong on that one buddy. See I’ve already gotten myself into seventy two alliances so there’s no chance of me losing since I’m working with just about everyone else in this tournament in a secret alliance.”
Malloy seems really skeptical about this when I tell him. However he usually has white nostrils or is shrooming so he never believes anything I tell him anyway. He just laughs like a hyena from the Lion King and then goes about his usual routine of talking to himself, rapping, doing drugs, drinking, and then banging a hooker before going to sleep.
“Seventy two alliances?”
“Yes, seventy two alliances. That is correct.”
“How the hell can you be in alliances with everyone else in the tournament?”
“Well some of them don’t even know that we’re in an alliance yet.”
“How can you be in alliances with people and they not know about it?”
“Because if they think that I have no chance of beating them, then I can control them. They don’t see me as a threat and if they don’t see me as a threat, then they’re more apt to make a deal with me if I approach them. And if I’m working with my opponents and they’re too dumb to realize it, then I can sucker them into a false sense of security. That will give me the advantage over them going by a strategic standpoint.”
“You really are Evil James.”
“Of course I am. That’s the one thing I’m not lying about.”
“So who are you matched up against in round one? I think you told me but I forgot.”
“You were probably stoned.”
“Probably.”
I click off of the GTT7 website homepage and onto the participants list. For some reason, Rick’s eyes light up as he looks at the computer screen. He licks his lips like a hungry animal about to go in for the kill as I give him a puzzled look.
“You alright?”
“Yeah. I just saw something I like on the computer screen.”
I give him a look as the doorbell rings, echoing throughout my house like it’s a cave. Malloy points at the computer screen. I can already tell he wants to look at whatever it is that drew his attention earlier.
“Can I get on the computer to look at this website while you go get the door?”
I shrug my shoulders.
“Sure, why not. What harm can come of this?”
At this point I get up from the rolling computer chair and leave the computer room to get the door as Malloy sits down in the computer chair as I head down the hallway. The doorbell rings again much to my annoyance.
“I’LL BE RIGHT THERE!”
Stupid idiot, whomever it is. Probably one of my numerous associates. Once at the door, I unlock it and open the door only to be greeted by my agent William Smith. He’s in his usual casual business attire and clearly has something on his mind in regards to me.
“Hello James,” he says with a toothy smile.
“Yo,” I reply with a nod of the head. “What‘s up?”
“Just coming by to chill, as always.”
“Well come on in. It’s just me and Rappin’ Rick here chillin’ like we normally do.”
“Malloy’s here?” he asks with a tinge of disgust in his voice. Whenever I mention Malloy, he acts like I’m talking about killing baby fetuses or something. However, when they start hanging out, they’re the best of friends. Go figure.
“Yeah, he’s been here for about five days straight. Now I know how Jerry
Seinfeld felt with Kramer always mooching off of him.”
Smith comes inside as I close and lock the door behind him. We then head into the living room only to hear a loud noise coming from inside the computer room. Smith looks at me and we exchange knowing looks. At this point I can only roll my eyes and hope for the best.
“If that cokehead broke my computer, I’m going to be pissed.”
“I didn’t hear any crashing or breaking noises,” Smith says, trying to keep me from blowing a gasket over something that probably didn’t happen as we head past the living room to the hallway. “Let’s just check it out first.”
Once back in the computer room, we find Rick Malloy staring at the computer screen before almost freaking out over something moments later. His
“Who’s this?! Who’s this?!” Malloy exclaims as he points to a picture of a woman that is currently on the computer monitor.
I turn and look at the computer screen to see a picture of Vivica J. Valentine.
“That’s Vivica J. Valentine from GCW,” I reply back as he starts looking around the computer desk for something. “She’s one of the top wrestlers in the world.”
Malloy frantically is trying to find whatever it is that he’s looking for. Maybe he forgot where he put his bag of white powder and the razor he uses to cut it. Most likely it was stolen by that drug addict Captain Justice from NFW.
“Do you have a pen and paper?” he asks in an excited voice. “I need to write these names down!”
“Why?”
“Because this is like a buffet!” Rick responds excitedly like a little kid on the Toys R Us website or Skylar Montgomery narrating his own story with a hand down his pants. “The next time I go on the PTC forums I’m going to try to pick one of them up!”
At this point I can only shake my head and try to talk him out of it even though I know it will do no good.
“I think that’s a bad idea, Rick,” I reply in a somewhat stern tone of voice. “You might get kicked off of there.”
He turns and gives me the most strange, goofy look I’ve ever seen in my life before turning back to the computer screen.
“How can I get kicked off of there when I don’t even have a forums user account?” he asks as he stops using the mouse and grabs a pen he sees laying on the desk to the left of the keyboard. At this point he starts looking around for paper to write on.
“He does have a point, James,” Smith tells me. “Besides, it won’t hurt you, only him.”
“True,” I respond. They have a good point. I’m already in the tournament, I have my own account which is separate from his, and if he screws up, it’s not my fault.
“I’m going to make an account after I look at all of these GTT babes,” Malloy says with a mischievous grin.
“You can do all that while I’m on my date,” I say to them. For some reason, they both stop what they are doing and give me the same strange look.
“You have a date?” he asks with a skeptical look. Smith never believes me whenever I tell him about dates. He always seems to think that I’ve got some sort of evil scheme going on that I don’t want him to know about.
“Yes.”
“When the hell did this happen?” he asks, a bit intrigued by this development. He for some reason views me as his entertainment for the week.
“A few days ago. Why?”
“How the hell did you get a date?” Malloy asks in a elevated and excited tone of voice. “You’re the ****ing Third Antichrist!”
At this point I can only roll my eyes at my coke snorting colleague. Comments like that make me almost want to kill him sometimes, but I never do. I have come close to having someone else kill him for me.
“Thanks for that bode of confidence,” I respond before looking at the time on the wall clock. Have to get ready soon otherwise we‘ll be late for the restaurant reservations I made. “But I have to go get ready now.”
“You do that while we look at the *****es,” Malloy replies as he goes back to drooling over the female competitors in the tournament. He then clicks onto Desade’s profile and he about spazzes out as Smith and I look on. However, Smith licks his lips and decides to join in on the hornball madness that is going on.
“The FINE *****es,” Smith says as he and Malloy high five, laughing and pointing at the picture on the monitor.
“Have fun crushing some ***** tonight with the Vargahammer,” Malloy says as they both start laughing once more and high five again. It’s like being in the middle of the sophomore class at a high school somewhere. Well, either that or surrounded by the characters in a teenage slasher flick. Neither option sounds too tempting to me.
They both hover over the monitor as I shake my head and walk out of the computer room. As I head down the hallway and walk into my bedroom, I hear one of them exclaim “write her name down” much to my disgust.
I head for the closet and start pulling out some nice formal wear for dinner. I have to look nice. Don’t want to screw it up again with her. This’ll probably my last chance with her if I do and she’s the one woman I’ve actually had feelings for. If I screw this up then I’ll never be able to live with myself.
Do I…
No, I can’t. It can’t be…
Am I actually in love with a woman?
…
Nah, I’m a heartless, despicable villain. I lie to everybody and am hated by most people. There’s no way I have actual human feelings inside my cold, soulless body.
“Laurie,” I whisper to myself as I grab a pair of pants. Maybe I do actually have feelings for her. This is like when the Grinch’s heart grew three sizes in the cartoon.
After I have my clothes, I walk across my dimly lit bedroom over to the dresser to get a pair of socks and a pair of boxers. Once I have everything, I go back to the closet and open it up so I can slip on a nice pair of dress shoes so I won’t drop all of my clothes all over the floor. After a close inspection, I find a suitable pair and slip them on so I don‘t have to carry them. At this point I head out into the hallway and walk into the bathroom, closing and locking the door behind me so I can take a shower in peace while my two crazy friends look up hot chicks online.
* * *
Forty-five minutes later…
After finishing my shower, getting dressed, and getting ready, I finally come out of the bathroom and walk back into my room to put my dirty clothes into the hamper.
Then I hear some yelling and laughing from the computer room. Go over to my night stand and get my house keys, car keys, wallet, cellphone, and sunglasses only to hear more loud noises from the computer room.
At first I’m puzzled but then I remember that Malloy and Smith are in the computer room. Walking down the hallway and then into the computer room, I find the two hollering and screaming about something on the computer screen. Upon closer inspection, there are some empty beers cans on the computer desk and a bottle of Jack Daniels is sitting by the monitor as well. This is going to be an interesting conversation to say the least.
“What the hell is going on in here?” I ask, throwing my arms up in disbelief as both of them casually look in my direction in a nonchalant manner before turning back to the computer screen.
“Hey James,” Malloy mutters out before turning back to the computer monitor as Smith also looks over with a big smile on his face.
“Hey James,” Smith responds excitedly. “We’re just on the PTC forums and it’s utterly ****ing hilarious dude!”
“What’s going on?” I ask, a bit amused and intrigued by what the other two members of my Bermuda Triangle are up to. “Is Rick trying to pick up chicks or something?”
“First I got booted off the forums by this guy named Pete,” Malloy says. “Because I decided to use a fake name to keep you from getting in trouble,”
“What was your fake name?”
“Rich Ammons.”
At this point I start laughing hysterically because I know exactly why this happened. That makes it even funnier to me to the point where even a soulless bastard like myself cracks a smile.
“Oh dear lord,” I ask him, knowing full well that Malloy was probably snorting coke off of a hooker‘s breast or something when he made that fake name up.
“How the hell did you come up with that name?”
“Just popped into my head,” he replies. “But then I rejoined under the name Benny Jenner and they booted me again but I was fine after I signed up under my real name since some of the wrestlers there know me from SCCW.”
Smith is laughing at the top of his lungs now.
“This is the best part!” Smith says as he’s doubled over with laughter.
“Then I got on there and tried to pick up Desade but it turns out it was some dude named Joe,” Malloy continues. “And the same thing with Vivica. It was some guy named Billy! I was pissed. None of these chicks are on the forums! There’s was this one chick named Aimz on there but when I asked her if she liked to snort cocaine and have animal sex but she reported me! This Argyle guy then gave me one warning before he would ban me.”
“…”
“It’s a joke,” Malloy says, shaking his head. He almost seems to be on the verge of tears. “I’ll never get to crush some ***** at this rate!”
I can only stare at him in disbelief as my eyes slowly wander to the clock at the end of the desk. It’s two forty five and I have to leave.
“Ok boys,” I say to them. “I’m out. Have to pick up Laurie soon. Don’t tear down the place why I’m out.”
“We won’t,” Malloy replies with a sly smile. I can immediately tell that he is lying.
“I’ll keep him out of trouble,” Smith replies with a laugh before grabbing the Jack Daniels bottle off of the computer desk and taking a chug from it.
I then head out of the computer room and walk down the hallway through the living room and out the door. I lock the door behind me and head to my car in the drive way but when I walk outside, someone walks from across the yard toward me.
“You’re time here is coming to an end,” he tells me as I stop walking to the car and turn in his direction. He is wearing a tan colored trench coat, jeans, a black T-shirt with an American flag on it, and an American flag colored mask.
“Is that so, Captain America?” I ask him with a chuckle over his little superhero mask.
“Yes,” he replies back, staring a hole through me from under his mask. “You’re a dead man.”
I shrug my shoulders. I could care less if some guy is telling me I’m going to get killed but I do care about this idiot making me late for my date.
“Yeah, whatever. I’m gonna die, everybody dies. I’m late for my date.”
Walking over to my car, I open up the driver’s side door and get inside before closing the door behind me as he yells out something about me “being sorry.”
Starting up the car, I simply back out of the drive-way and head to Laurie’s house to pick her up. I don’t need this “I’m gonna kill you” crap right now. I have more important matters at hand.
* * *
Two hours later…
After arriving back to my house after eating dinner at PF Chang‘s China Bistro, I notice a lot more cars than usual parked on the street by my house. After parking in the driveway and shutting off the ignition, I then notice that all of the loud noise on the street is coming from my place.
“Oh great,” I mutter out.
“What’s wrong?” Laurie asks me.
“I don’t know for sure, but I’ve got a pretty good idea who’s behind it.”
We get out of the car, closing the door behind us as we walk up to my front door.
I hear yelling inside followed by a crash. I’m about at the point where I want to kill Malloy and Smith. If those two ruin this for me, then they’d better arm themselves fast because not matter how much I like them, they will feel the pain. Pulling my keys out of my pocket, I quickly open up the door and find a wild scene inside of my living room.
The place is packed with all of my friends, associates, and a few others that I honestly do not know. A bunch of guys are on the couch watching college football, there’s some drunk wrestlers I know getting beers out of the refrigerator, and everyone else is dancing around or acting crazy except for the four guys I don‘t recognize in the back of the room who are glaring at me. Maybe I owe them money. I’m about to blow my gasket at this point.
“What is going on here?!” I exclaim in a loud, booming voice as everyone looks over in my direction. Malloy and Smith come running over, bottles of beer in hand, to greet me. I wish I had a knife. I’d channel Jason Voorhees and stab them both.
“We decided to throw a party!” Smith says, holding up his glass for a cheer.
“Yeah!” Malloy exclaims, his breath wreaking of weed and alcohol. “HAIL TIONEB BABY!”
I then look around at the party and remember why I’m pissed off.
“What the **** are you guys doing?” I ask, motioning around at all the chaos around me. “I bring my date home and we find this.”
“Don’t be mad at us,” Smith replies. “Glass told us we should do this.”
“Glass? You mean Mr. Glass from PPW?”
“No, Matt Glass.”
Shaking my head, it all comes together at this point. Glass has been trying to get back at me ever since his investment in the Church of the Unholy fell apart and this is his payback. Perfect timing, too. If he cockblocks me, I’m going to be like Mike Tyson against Evander Holyfield and go on a homicide spree.
“That idiot. I bet he’s on the computer listening to death metal while watching Youtube videos like he normally does.”
“How did you know what he was doing?”
“Lucky guess.”
“Oh, and Falter called. He was wondering about this UTI error code he keeps getting on his computer and wants you to call him back.”
“Why? Who does he think I am? Bill Gates at Microsoft?”
“No, he thinks you are Varga.”
I sigh and look around at the chaos that my two brethren and the rest of my various associates have caused, motioning around again before throwing my arms up in disgust over what is going on and about my date situation, which obviously is spiraling out of control.
“Now what am I going to do about my date? We obviously can’t be here with it looking like the Delta Tau Chi House from the movie Animal House.”
“True,” he responds. “What are you going to do now?”
“Well it looks like we’re going to her place then.”
“Lovely,” he replies, looking at my date with lusty eyes before calling me closer to whisper something. “James, let me ask you something. Is she shaved down there?”
“EWWWW! NO! Like I would tell you that!”
Just then two of my former associates, Phillip Sanders (aka the Masked Halloween Psycho Killer) and Dan Browning (aka Unholy Druid #12), walking over to me. Sanders has a full bottle of Bud Light in one hand and a half empty bottle of Fosters in the other hand while Browning is
“Have a beer, Varga,” Sanders says as he passes me the Bud Light before walking away as he chugs down the rest of the Fosters. Browning is completely out of control and dancing around.
“Hey Varga!” Browning exclaims in a loud, high pitched voice. “WHOOOOO! PARTY TIME!”
Browning and Sanders then run off somewhere leaving me and the rest of the Bermuda Triangle. Malloy then reaches into his pocket and pulls out a condom before discretely handing it to me.
“Have fun, bro,” Malloy says with a devious grin, putting his fist out there. Smiling now as I quickly put the condom in my pocket, I bump fists with him. “Use the Vargahammer on that *****.”
“I will,” I respond with a smile before walking back over to the door where Laurie is waiting for me. Smiling, I walk over to her and try to come up with something to say that won’t mess things up.
“Honey, looks like we’re going to your place,” I tell her trying to sound as calm as possible even though I’m about to go nuts.
“Good call,” she says as I quickly walk her back out through the front door and out of the house.
Once outside, we head back for my car and get inside. This plan didn’t work out as good as I had hoped but it still worked out nonetheless. The darkness that has covered my entire existence is slowly being replaced by the light I’ve been seeking. I just hope my life doesn’t spiral into oblivion like it always does. At least this is a good start in the right direction. Too bad people are trying to kill me right when I finally get my life on track.