Chapter Y: Mind-Numbing
The Renaissance Continues

The headlights reflected off the garage as I pulled the Nova into the driveway. It felt good to have a comfortable seat again. Not only that, but it felt good to have an actual home to go to after the day was done.

The day was over and the only thing left to do was smoke my joint, kill a cigarette, fuck my girl, and have a final smoke before I passed out. But that wasn't what I did, instead I sat behind the wheel with my cigarette, and my joint just thinking about how funny life is.

One month I'm sitting there pretending to be something I'm not, broke, and the next I'm playing the part of the real me, Larger than life and loving it. Perhaps Ryan was right, I am the enemy of coherent thought. Oh wait, I already established that I was, and I enjoyed it that way. In fact I had gone out of my way to prove it backstage a few weeks back when Aphrodisia Jordan had the uncommon sense to stick her nose places it didn't belong just because it involved me making her boy toy look like a dumbass for stating the obvious.

I turned the still idleing car off, and opened the door, but I still iddn't go in. I just continued to think as I took a long haul off the marijuana cigarette.

Aphrodisia Jordan, A woman who is proud to call herself a bitch, and is teaming with Ali Khadafi. Jungle Fever, they call themselves, but they're not even much of a team. Come to think of it I don't even think they can coexist. Hell I wouldn't place a bet on them to win a handicap match against Spaz, who was another thought completely. He asked me to interfere for him this week, but I told him I had my own problems to worry about. Then he told me his opponent was Draco, and I had no choice but to accept. After his cheap shots in the ring last week I was itching for an exscuse to wrap my hands around his pencil neck. Vampire or not.

The door opened and Ivy stood within it's frame, just staring at me. I couldn't help but forget the skinny nightstalker faggot, and think about what lay before me. A wonderful evening of sex, and another night of glorious ultraviolence. It didn't get any sweeter.



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The sun broke through the curtains and rested upon my eyes, tearing me from the sweet dreams of gore that marched through my sleeping mind. I opened my eyes slowly half expecting to find Ivy gone, but as I turned to my right she was still there, sleeping soundly with a smile.

I quietly rose and found my pants, however as I pulled them on I tripped. My face managed to find the corner of the nightstand awaking her.

"What was that?" She said sitting straight up in bed, and wrapping the sheet around her exposed breasts.

I lifted my hand above the bed, "that was me." I said sheepishly, as she began to giggle.

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"YO! Snapperhead... Over here." the camera moved from the shining gold UWC World title hanging on the wall of my kitchen and to me in all of my glory. My white robe, and leopard skin thong underwear at the head of my expensive and obnoxiously long dining table.

A Cigarette burned away in the ashtray, as I bit a piece of bacon. "Yea. That's right. Pay attention cuz all this shit's only gonna get said once. Jungle Fever and Chaotic. Two tag-teams with catchy names, and silly little gimmicks. Let me draw each of you a picture." I say and write two words on the pad of notebook paper next to my plate of bacon and eggs. I hold it up to reveal the words that are:

Seraph and Caine.

"See that right there. It's in black and white. We don't need a fancy name, or a stupid gimmick. We're legends in this sport whether ya like it or not. Yea I could give you the statistics on my win loss record, but that's not important. What is important is that we're two of the best damn wrestlers in the sport today. We've been there and done this. The only question that really needs to be asked is if we're that much better than everyone on our own, how much better are we together? The answer, we're the best. It's as black and white as the words on this paper. It's as cut and dry as this bacon. But Others might not see it that way, so let me, and my incoherent ramblings explain this logically so you all out there in TV land can put it together. It's like a jigsaw puzzle with six pieces. This monday at Addiction You've got Jungle Fever. Ali Khadafi, and Aphrodisia Jordan. Now Aphrodisia is a bitch. A Woman who proudly calls herself a female dog, while at the same time believes herself to be above men. I'm sorry, but dogs are man's servant, man's best friend... BENEATH US. So how can you be a dog, and above us? Bitch is an insult, not a compliment. But that has nothing to do with her wrestling ability. I was in the ring with her last monday. I wasn't impressed. It was like fighting Corbin Kaige, only with less variety. At least he had the innovation to throw a nail gun at me, I digress."

*Crunch, Crunch, Crunch*I pause my ranting to eat another piece of bacon.

"Then her partner Ali Khadafi who thinks just because he made it past round one in a tournament that our worst wrestler James 'I'm the next skinny fag' Dunn made it in, he's god's gift to the ring. Holy fuck, and they say I'm the stupid one in OWF. I mean hell, if James Dunn is good enough to get to round two that should give you some type of clue as to how good this guy is. BUT WAIT A MINUTE! Angel didn't even make it to round two... Hmm... That tells me that this tournament isn't even for real, because I've been in the ring with Angel quite a few times now. I know his entire repitoire of moves. I'm probably the only guy in OWF who could take him, right now, and bend him into a pretzel before he even realizes.... I'm not going into that... The tournament is a fluke, a load of bullshit. It doesn't mean dick, but it's a way for this guy to improve? NO, it's a way for this guy to stroke his ego because his two inch cock just doesn't make him feel big anymore. I'm tired of all this shit in OWF. The guys who keep winning every week aren't the guys who can actually wrestle like me and Seraph... Oh no... The one's who keep winning are the guys who seem to talk the most shit. So if everyone wants to hear shit talking, well then fuck it. I guess it;s time to let me out of the box."

*Pff, pff* I took a couple drags from the cigarette and brushed a hand through my hair.

'Scattered thoughts? No, Pissed off thoughts? A little, but really, I'm just eccentric and crazy. That's what I've been saying since day fucking one. Did anyone care to listen? No. Are they listening now? Probably not, but do I care? Nope, I just keep flapping away at the gums. Unfortunately for everyone who's not paying attention though, they're gonna have to listen because Seraph already said it. We're cashing in our shots at the next pay per view, whether team "I wish my face was as good looking as James Caine's ass" is ready or not. Yea, there's another worthless gimmick OWF doesn't need. You see that's why Seraph and I are without a doubt the best Team OWF has, because we're just that... a TEAM. We're not some cheap attempt at a gimmick to sell overpriced and worthless merchandise, we're not a couple of ex lovers with television problems...I'll get to that in a minute, and we're not just a cheap image altogether. We're here to wrestle and get gold, we banded together to earn our title shot, and we're not about to give up on that just because prez CJ throws us a couple of screwballs like Jungle Fever and Chaotic........................Moving on to that, let's take a look at those two. Anastasia Bnoche. A worthless wrech who still loves Colton, who... God damn, when did wrestling become a soap opera again? I mean it's always been a little about the drama, but I never truly gave a fuck about it. I was always about the violence. I always just enjoyed going out there and fucking up everyone in the ring for the entertainment of the fans. But since Shock and Terror I've had no love for the fans. They turned their back to me, so I turn my back to them."

*Crunch, Crunch, Crunch*I ate one final piece of bacon, hit my cigarette, and smiled at the camera as it moved to the left slightly.

"Basically, for those who didn't bother to listen to a damn word of that mind numbing rant. It's cut and dry. Seraph and Caine is the best tag-team on the OWF market today. Why? Because we're a no nonsense, no bullshit, non gimmick combination. We're two of the best professional wrestlers out there on the market today, no ifs... ands....or buts... And there's not a damn thing.... anyone can do about it.... Actually...there's two things everyone can do about it... Nothing... and like it."



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After I finished my shit talking promotion on the OWF and it's tag-team division I went out for a twelve mile jog, six out and six back. Following that I spent a good two to three hours in my brand new gym. It felt so good to have a mansion again. It felt so good to spend money, have weed, booze, and cigarettes. I had all but forgotten how wonderful the view was from the top of the world. Where you could look down on everyone, feel completely empty, and just not care. Pride some people called it, I just called it living life to the fullest.

"Stop...Drop...Shut em down, open up shop...."

"Hello? " I answered the phone dropping the free weight to the ground with a clang.

"What's up BUUUUUUUUUUUDDDDDDY?" Came the Pauly Shore mockery from my elder brother Star.

"What the fuck do you want?" I asked slightly irritated that he still had my number.

"I was just gonna be in your area this afternoon...and I was..."

"No." I cut him off.

"No?"

"No."

"Why not man? I was only gonna ask to stay for a week...one week man that's all I'm askin~*CLICK*

I hung up the phone and left it at that. As I closed the phone I notcied the time. It was getting late and Seraph was supposed to have called me already so that we could work on our strategy for this coming addiction. It was friday night, and I had no idea where he was. I decided that I should give him the call. I opened the phone back up and dialed the number.

"Hello?" Came the voice on the other end.

"Hey man, I thought you were gonna call..."

"I didn't know if you were back from Panama or not yet." he answered.

"Well I am, whaere you at? You wanna get together and go over some stuff? I got a couple ideas for Monday's match, not to mention Spaz could use an extra hand or two, and I'm sure you'd be more than happy to wrap yours around Draco's neck before we get to whatever Pay-per-view is comin next."

"Yea, I wouldn't mind socking that fucker any day of the week, him and his holier than thou mouth."

"Well that answers one of my questions....but where you at?" I asked again.

"Well... you're not gonna believe this....but...." he started and continued to fill me in.

"Dude... I don't trust you, but I like you. That's enough for me to say HEY. We can do this. Yu're a great wrestler, I'm a great wrestler. We work together, and there's no stopping us. I told you I don't trust you any farther than I can throw you, but if you need a place to stay. Well, you're my partner... I can't let you sleep on the curb, because that could put us at a disadvantage. I'll come get you man. Just find the nearest bar, and stay there. Call me with a name." I told him and hung up. I moved inside to tell Ivy where I was off to, and she said that she'd be waiting for my return. She didn't like Seraph at all for some reason, but there was a gut instinct that I hadn't had since the day I met Freddy Ryder some years back in AWA that I just couldn't help but feel deep inside me. There was just something about how he moved while he was in the ring. To tell the truth, it scared the piss out of me at times.

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