DIRTY AMERICAN HERO
"In Soviet Russia, Photographs develop themselves."

I’ve never been to Russia and never plan to go—I hear they party it up over there but still—no. Eastern bloc especially—where every city is a ghetto sprawling over the top of urban blight. Yeah, you’ve seen the movies. They’re broke as fuck over there. They’re starving. It’s shit. Being the brave American I am I can only assume that means the same for all of Russia. It’s gotta be terrible—look at all the mail order brides come out of Russia like soldiers fleeing in helicopters during the fall of Saigon. Yeah. Ghetto assed Russians.

Yeah they use to be big. Back when the Russians called themselves Soviets and brought death to anyone who got in the way. They were hot shit back then. The entire world was afraid of the United Stats not because of its missiles but because of its fetish with destroying communism. When the two biggest brats on the block come together for a hair pulling contest, nobody wins.

Nuclear annihilation.

It’s what I want right now. You can be damn sure of that. This fucking nonsense just keeps getting thicker and there’s not a damn thing I can do to ebb the tide.

I’m talking about Russia sucking and the Soviet Union being flawed because I was visited by Annika Reizeger today. She had some presents for me—presents like blankets to Indians. Yeah. She brought me something I’d never thought I’d see.

I shouldn’t have answered the door. I should have stayed on the couch and kept on watching Kung Fu. But nooo, I just had to pop up and answer the door.

“Bronwen isn’t here.” I stated as my eyes fell upon Annika.

I went to close the door but Annika held it open.

“I wish to speak with you.” She said.

Me? Moi? Really…

“Listen, the USA beat the USSR, they made it into a movie with Kurt Russell. Get over it.”

“This is certainly no laughing matter. Nor does it have any relation to a Hockey game of any kind.”

“…alright.” I stepped to the side and opened the door. Annika walked right in and started eyeballing the place, I nodded towards her, “So what’s this all about?”

“Do you love Bronwen?” She asked.

“What?” I raised an eyebrow, “What business is it of yours?”

“Answer the question.” She continued.

“Get the fuck outta here…” I rolled my eyes.

“You wish for me to leave?” She asked.

“No. I mean. Kinda. But that’s a phrase.” I sighed.

“Explain.”

Gah! I make fists, “I mean that it’s ridiculous that you should ask me that.”

“I see.” She ponders before tossing a folder onto the coffee table in front of me, “Those pictures say you do not feel anything for Bronwen other than lust.”

“What?” I grabbed up the pictures.

The pictures are of Dominique and I. I was worried about this… The reality of it all struck me like a freight train. I needed to find a door but there weren’t any to run through. No “exit stage left” for me. I had to face the music. I had to figure out how you put an acceptable spin on pictures of me plowing the gal that’s trying to kill both Bron and I?

I really need an agent. I could hit the panic button and lay back with an ice pack on my forehead. Yeah, I could pull an Infamous and play like I’m some kind of victim.

Sure enough there I was, lovin Dominique on the hood of my car. Fuck. They even got the license plate in the shot. That and my bare white ass. Fucksakes.

“Listen, this is all a bunch of hullaballoo. There’s an explanation for this…” I flipped through the pictures.

Some of the pictures—there are no excuses for.

“Fine. Explain.”

“Ok so there’s absolutely no other reasonable explanation other than she forced me.” I stammered

“I believe when you get to the pictures of you killing her, your story will change.” She said, flatly.

Sure enough, strangled the bitch.

“Ha! See, bullshit, this bitch can’t die. No way I killed her.” I let my eyes roll.

“Of course. The Dirt Dog has intercourse with immortals. Then he pretends to kill them.” Annika rolled her eyes right back at me.

“It’s Dirty Dog with a Y.” I gather up all the pictures.

“What?” She snapped.

“Do you have any more of these pictures?” I asked.

“Of course. If anything happens to me the pictures go directly to the authorities. However, if you do not tell Bronwen what you have done yourself, I will be forced to do it for you.” Annika’s words were nails, one right after the other, into my coffin.

“Wait a second. This isn’t about the supposed murder at all is it? No. This is about Bronwen.” I growled.

“Preposterous.” Annika looked away from me quicky.

“No… If you had intended on having me jailed for the murder of this woman I would be in handcuffs right now. No this is about me telling Bronwen and ultimately pushing her away.” I closed my eyes; I wished to harness nuclear annihilation…

“You are insane. Do you realize that?” Annika stated, coldly.

“So it looks like I’m going to just have to take my chances.” I stepped up to Annika but she quickly produced a tazer and nailed me right in the throat.

I hit the ground like a ton of bricks. Fuck… Bad idea…

Aside from the sounds of my spasms, I could hear Annika clearly.

“I had you pegged right all along, Clemmens, Bronwen will have to be informed of your infidelity.”

With that she stepped over my and walked out the door.

 

GODLY MANIFESTO
"You Are Diseased."

Now Seth Dryden has fallen into stage two of "Operation Fucktard" and he's done what he considers as "the ultimate attack" in claiming that he's going to magically bring down the No Cash Value.  As if by some act of god he's got the power to do so.  This same guy who just got done shooting just about all the remaining people on the planet that even gave a shit about him.  He's going to what--do the same to No Cash Value?  Is he going to pull out his little gun in the ring and take a shot at us?  Is that how Seth Dryden prefers to end his little battles?

No, Seth Dryden wants to tell me the same shit he's been telling me for years--rehashed.  I see the writing on the wall now that Seth never really thought to keep track of the things we've done and the places we've been.  He just makes that shit up.  Yeah.  Why remember, why remember when you can just make up some other shit all in one huge attempt to make yourself a victim.

No matter what two bit catch phrases and insults you whip out, it's not going to change the fact that you're a big fat girl with sand all up in her vag.  I think if Retcon were still around he'd nickname you "Megna" and imagine you destroying Tokyo with you sand shovel and vage full of fine grit.  Yeah.  Hell, I'd kinda like to imagine that one myself.

Seth, I want you to imagine something for me.  I want you to imagine yourself as Fight One Universal Champion.  I want you to see the day after.  I want you to tell me what you see.  You know what I see?  I see the No Cash Value.  After all the towels fall at the Pay Per View, I see you and the rest of Infamous facing off still with No Cash Value.  I know you dream of somehow magically taking down No Cash Value but you forget the fact that you're a little boxer bitch who makes up phoney crime scenes and kills off old relics from SFT past.  That's all you are man, a fuckin' Cold Case File waiting to be cracked.

Don't even get me started on this little identity crisis you suffer from.  No, not the one where you think you're the leader of Infamous.  And no, not the one where you think you have the capability to end my career...  The one...  You know, with the fucking mask?  Yeah.  Has James come out the play in a while?  Oh how we miss him and his fancy little mask.  See. I told you that you should have picked someone else.  You should have picked someone you could fucking compete with you big fucking bozo.

Yeah, you ask for me by name.  You were so eager to fuck me over.  Stupid shit.  If you want to destroy No Cash Value so bad why didn't you stay quiet about it?  You know, destroy it from the inside.  Kinda like the way you're destroying Infamous from the inside because you're a control freak.  Just remember.  You don't run it.  Johnny doesn't run it.  Brett sure as shit doesn't run it.  The vagina amongst the swinging dicks takes command of that shit and don't you think you have anyone fooled into believing otherwise.  You're all a bunch of Drag Queens and she's Julie fuckin' Newmar.  Welcome to your worst nightmare.

Seth Dryden destroys No Cash Value?

You can kill the revolutionary but you can't kill the revolution bitch--I already told you that. 

Now shut the fuck up!

 

 

 

DIRTY MIND FUCK
"Offer limited to Gods and God-like Deities"

I'm locked in a cage and Till is pacing back and forth outside it.  He's smiling--he has the Universal Title over his shoulder.  He's pacing faster and faster and keeps sneaking glares my way.

"Isn't it exciting?"  Till cackles, "The big match."  He chuckles, "Seth is all in already.  Did you see the way his testicles swelled up when he finally killed Cyril?"  He glares again, "I bet you wish you could do the same to me...  Don't you?"

"I think about it."  I admit.

"Well.  If only Till Rammstein were Cyril Acheston."  He laughs.

"If only."  I grab the bars in front of me wondering if they're even real or not.  Feel real...

"Well I'll have you know that I sir am much more prepared to bring you grief beyond that of any Seth Dryden or Cyril Acheston.  Bring on the entirety of Infamous and they could top what I have planned for you."

"You're going to job the title away?"  I laugh, "Give Seth Dryden a big ole chubby doin' that."

"That's all he wants, all he's ever wanted.  He wants tangible proof that he's better than you and no matter how ridiculous the outcome, he'll claim it."  Till laughs and shrugs, "He's lost it you know.  One day James Gemini, one day Betty Grable--you know how it is."

"No Till, I don't know how it is."  I sigh.  "When are you going to get the fuck out of my life?!"

"Oh it's too late for that.  I'm gaining more and more power as we go.  I don't think I could get out of your life now if I tried."  He laughs.

"Man fuck you."

"No...  Fuck Bronwen.  That's what I'm going to do."

Words twist.  He's sounding just like me now.

"Shane, maybe if you had decided to take a murderous path.  Perhaps if you had gone the route of Seth Dryden and magically became a hitman you could have killed all of the people that were bothering you one by one and ended it all by killing the man that breathed life into you...  Maybe you too could be a pulp novel subplot.  No.  You chose to be bigger than that.  That is why you deal with Till Rammstein as apposed to Cyril Acheston."

"You are sooo fucking gone man.  Looney mother fuckin toons."

Till kicks the cage.

"Silence Dog."

I want to grab the guy and rip his throat out.  I imagine a gun into my hand, a bomb, a knife.  I wish a seven forty seven would crash through the wall and smash his fucking face in but none of this shit happens.  No.  I'm still in the cage.  I'm still completely fucked.

"No...  You're not Seth Dryden or Johnny Lukas.  You're mine.  Always have been.  You don't belong to No Cash Value, the Fans, or Aidan Morag.  You belong to me.  It's about time you recognize everything I've done for you."  He laughs.

"Yeah?  What the fuck have you done for me?"

"I gave you Bronwen.  I let you have EWR, I pushed you into RWA...  I've been helping you all along the way.  What, did you think you could do this all yourself?"

"What?"  I shake my head, "You didn't help me do shit!"

"Oh I beg to differ.  I've done everything for you.  You started getting out of line so here I am to make sure that things are done correctly and not fucked up because of the impurity of your blood or membership in this fucktard of a country--America."

"Eat my dick."  I snarl.

"Silly Shane."  Till smirks, "I'll even have to get Bronwen back for you."

"What?"

"That's right, you didn't see it did you?  The note she left for you before she moved out and left with Annika Reizeger..." 

Till laughs hard and pulls out the letter.  "Dear Shane, I don't know what to say to you right now but all I do know for sure is that our marriage was a sham and I want out of it.  You can keep everything, I'm just taking my bike.  Give me a call when you're ready to man up and explain to me why you decided to go fuck that bitch."

"What?!"  My heart pounds.

"Yes.  Dominique and I had a little fun at your expense..."  Till smiles...  "Looks like the love of your life just left you Shane...  How does that feel?"

"Fuck YOU!"

"Feels great doesn't it."

"You mother fu--"

"No Shane.  Don't worry.  She'll come back around begging for oyu, I know this, you know this.  You'd better hope I'm not the only one home when she does come knocking because you know exactly what I'm going to do to her."  Till says, dry humping the cage and letting out a nasty cackle.

"God you sick, stupid, UGLY, son of a--"

"Silence Dog.  Don't make me angry and end up doing something silly like--giving the F1X Universal Title to Seth Dryden."

"You wouldn't."

"Oh I would, and that same night I'd sniff out Annika and Bronwen and have myself a little sex sandwich, what do you think about that huh?!"  Till laughs and heads for the door, "Well it's time for me to go...  I'll see you soon Dog."

He opens the door to the roar of a crowd and vanishes through it...  Everything goes black...

 

GODLY MANIFESTO
"Johnny The Hero."

Johnny's quick to defend his pals while simultaneously putting Dryden out in the cold.  I have to say I do enjoy seeing all the bickering between the Infamous.  Proof that these idiots will never learn.  Johnny wants to live a dream existence with his cousin--fucking shit up--partying it up.  Yeah.  He's got Serenity in his corner right?  Or...  Does he really?  Maybe there is something to what ole Dryden has been saying about his up close and personal relationship with Serenity.  What if they're the ones in cahoots here looking to put the Lukas cousins out to pasture?

I mean, how many more matches does Johnny have in him?  He's barely old enough to vote and the guy looks old and hitched up in the ring.  Nah.  I think Johnny's run here is coming to a sad little end and it's being aided by the fact that Johnny Lukas never learned how to keep good company.  He's never truly seen eye to eye with Brett and teaming up with Seth Dryden came directly out of left field.  Poor fella.  Sometimes I wonder if i'm too hard on the guy simply because I don't want him ending up as another jaded Dryden with nothing going on his life cept for random acts of violence and bad poker playing with worse voice overs.

"Vegas" Johnny Lukas.  Is that what we're going to get to see from you Johnny?  Is that going to be your twilight years style when everything is said and done?  Are you going to be on the mic one day--old and fat--talking about how Seth Dryden helped you get to the top of your game "way back when?"

No.  You can never say that Johnny.  Your stable mate--Seth Dryden wants only for himself.  As far as you're concerned, you're just in the way.  He wants Serenity for himself and plans on doing the same thing to High Society that he did to Havoc.  Watch your back, grow eyes in the back of your head.  And while you're at it how about you consider just how well you really know Serenity...  Hell, I've known her longer than you have and I have a damn sight of a better idea than you.  You don't know what you've gotten yourself into Johnny.

I understand you'll never be able to communicate with me in a grown up fashion and lets just say I've given up hope.  I gave up hope for you ever being a part of No Cash Value so this shouldn't be that much more of a deal.  Not my fault you're still a child who, when in a pinch, can only grasp for catch phrases and insults he saw in his precious Cartoons.  That's where you're at right now Johnny.  In your cartoonish little world of make believe with your barbie doll and your little buddy Brett.

You're better of just with Brett.  At least he's actually looking out for you.  Seth Dryden?  Nah, he just wants to punk you out and feel his balls swell at the realization that he's the first SFT joke-boxer turned wrestler to ruin the Fight One Universal title.  That's what he wants.  Another notch in his belt.

The title isn't prestigious to either of you--it's a trinket and both of you make me sick for treating it as such.

This Universal Title, just like No Cash Value, is greater than The Infamous can ever be.

I'll see you at the show pussy, get ready to get fucked.