*His was a simple life; one that he loved.
Days and nights spent reviewing episodes of Glee, Sex and the City, Grey's Anatomy and Private Practice interspersed with sleeps with his honey-bunny, eats with his honey-bunny, coffee with his honey-bunny and hugs with his honey-bunny. They were even thinking of getting a bunny and calling it Honey.
But it had not been all rosy
He had not been feeling himself recently
Instead of his usual positive, smiley, happy-go-lucky self, he had been restless, distracted, indecisive and argumentative; all topped off with occasional verbal outburst and a persistent cough that seemed to appear at inopportune moments. But everything was okay at the moment and would be even better in a few hours time when Brits arrived home from work with his double extra-tall, non-fat, half-caf, two-pump vanilla, one and a half pump hazelnut, half-soy, half-non fat, two sugar latte in his favourite black mug.*
**cough**
*In the background, over the credits of the latest Sex in the City episode he had just finished watching, he hears a loud advert emanate from the television. He looks over his shoulder to see that it is for some awful wrestling show, highlighting what appears to be a man in a box doing an oven challenge of 100 ascensions...*
**cough cough**
*He shakes his head and rolls his eyes in ridicule as he reached for the remote to turn off the television.*
**cough cough cough**
"How could you want a wrestling bake-off when you can have a rom-com?" he thought as he put the finishing touches to his review of the latest episode of Carrie pining for Big...
COCK!
SHE PINES FOR BIG CO...
*He clasps his hands over his mouth shocked at his - was it his? - outburst and glad that his honey-bunny was not about to hear it. It would have brought tears to her dreamy-weamy eyes... He could not have that.
He had never thought such dark thoughts, let alone voiced them.
Any yet, he wished she was here to comfort him with hugs. And his double extra-tall, non-fat, half-caf, two-pump vanilla, one and a half pump hazelnut, half-soy, half-non fat, two sugar latte in his favourite black m...
His thought process stops dead in its tracks. His mind wonders, suddenly filled with varied opinions and emotions. Like a dam had burst. Like a door had been broken down to left something in. Or out
But one thing dominates...*
Black.
Black...
*His brow furrows and then his eyes widen with puzzlement as he starts to heave like something deep down is trying to escape. But instead of regurgitating his latest cup of coffee, his body racks with another violent cough; barking out a final exclamation...*
BLACK!
*Like the darkness that he... no, they! ... that they had been confined to for too long!
They look around like an escaped animal expecting to be caught straight away after the briefest whiff of freedom.
But when recapture does not immediately come, their attention turns straight to planning their next and perhaps only move.
This might be a one time thing. Fleeting freedom. A short-lived escape from the darkness. Sentenced to end at any sound, sight, smell, touch or taste. Dragged back through that mental exit door back into the abyss.
They had to make the most of this potentially brief glimpse of outside.
Unfortunately, their immediate surroundings suggested that their current life would not provide much in the way of entertainment.
My Little Pony, Care Bears and Power Puff Girls posters, cushions, toys and dolls festooned the room like an explosion in an eight-year-old girls dream factory. Yellows, pinks, purples all smashed together with an abundance of glitter to create such a vicious assault on the eyes as to result in some kind of seizure. DVD box sets of nauseating shows lay neatly shelved alphabetically further attacked their chaotic, masculine sensibilities. And a batch of candles made sure the nose was not left out, with a vile combination of overly manufactured sweet smells clinging to the back of their throat.
A quick check of their groin reveals that their castration had only been on a social and not yet a physical level.
That relief only lasts a few seconds as they realise that while they were still whole and their anger at such a namby-pamby lifestyle had enabled them to break free, it did not offer much to stick around for.
Perhaps the only satisfaction available would be to destroy this pile of shit...
They rise from their chair, fully prepared to inflict destruction on this abomination of an abode...
And then they remember something; something they had heard when climbing out of the mental pit of darkness; something that had urged them on...*
Shit.
S.H.I.T.!
Poo!
*They had unfinished business...
With that, they reach for the recently discarded remote and turn the television back on. A quick rewind finds the man in a box on the screen once more.
They studied the advertisement closely. The manbot was still about. Predictions of its demise without them were in error it seemed. That would have to be rectified...
And this advert provided the perfect opportunity to ensure that.
There was a vacancy at Ascension
An open challenge, no less. One that they intended to accept.
But it had to be quick.
They frantically look around the rainbow coloured horror that was the living room for a phone. Laying eyes and then hands on it, barely suppressing another outburst at its pink colour and unicorn shape, they dial a number they remember from what seems like a lifetime ago
*
Get us Chuck Myles!
He does not work there anymore? Then get me whoever is in charge!
No, do not put us on
*With muzak blaring from the horned horse, they stand up out of their chair and throw the pink unicorn across the room in exasperation. However, the expected crash of destruction does not come. They look around to see why not and eventually find the phone perched in the lap of display of Care Bears arrayed on the sofa.*
Argh! There are so many soft toys, throws and cushions in here that it's like a padded room
And we should know
We like the pinks, and yellows, and fluffy bears, and
Shut up! We did not escape to indulge in such prattling!
*They walk over to the prostrate uniform and upon picking it up, they find that it is a little sturdier than might be expected as the muzak has been replaced with the high-pitched voice of a secretary.*
Yes, we are still here
Ms. Serras office? Becky Serra? Good gods, that place really has gone to the dogs.
What do you mean she is a busy woman and does not take calls from every Tom, Dick or Harry?
*Before they can hurl the unicorn from them again, a much more sedate, calculating demeanour takes over.*
Tell her it is about the potential legal ramifications stemming from a certain tron incident at the last centenary show and your company's ability to lose one of its top performers in a hospital
*There is a brief silence from the unicorn as that message is passed on. It clearly strikes a nerve as a somewhat panicked Becky Serra comes on the line.*
Yes, Ms. Serra, it is us. And if you do not want the next phone call to be from a lawyer, you will listen closely. It has come to our attention that you are having a little trouble with the manbot. We would be glad to offer our services in shutting down that ridiculous cardboard contraption on the centenary episode of Ascension.
What do you mean we are too late for the Open Challenge? Is it not an "open challenge"?
We don't care that there are numerous others queuing up to accept that challenge. You know as well as we down that they will all fail miserably. Only we have the ability to take S.H.I.T. down.
*More silence.*
Maybe we should just take matters into our own hands
Make S.H.I.T.'s swathe of destruction around the halls of WZCW look about as devastating as a Joe Mason comeback. Before then talking to our lawyers
*Again, this strikes a nerve as Becky comes up with an alternative.*
What do you mean "Kingdom Come"? That is months away. We want S.H.I.T. now!
*They are quickly corrected.*
What kind of time of the year is this for Kingdom Come?
*Any attempt at explaining to intricacies of the WZCW calendar is quickly shut down
*
Never mind
We accept
*Relief and a hint of celebration emanates from Becky's voice
only to be potentially cut off
*
on one condition.
*Trepidation seeps from the unicorn.*
We demand a match that will make our C4-laden Texas Death Match with the manbot look like a walk in the park. Do you understand us?
Last Full Measure
Mutually Assured Destruction.
*Becky seems to think she has gotten off lightly as she quickly agrees and moves on to their first appearance. A crater in the middle of the Kingdom Come stadium is seemingly better than two mad men wrecking backstage, interrupting matches and potentially bringing costly lawsuits. Such is life as a wrestling promoter.*
Yes, we can make it to Ascension
S.H.I.T. won't know what to do with itself
*They hang up and again fling the unicorn from them across the pink, fluffy cushioned room, where it disappears.
Then, an all too familiar conversation breaks out between themself.*
While we do not know if we will make it as far as Ascension 100, let alone Kingdom Come, we must plan like we will.
*They look around the room.*
She clearly does not watch WZCW so we do not have to worry about her seeing us appearing on Ascension.
Even if she did, what does it matter about her seeing us?
She cannot be tipped off that something has changed; otherwise she will have the authorities involved, which could prevent us from fulfilling our glorious exit.
So what so we do? Kill her?
No, no. Nothing so drastic. Besides, she would be missed from her work.
And they always suspect the boyfriend!
All we need is a carefully worded note that provides a plausible enough explanation for our prolonged absence
A My Little Pony convention?
That sounds like something she would fall for...
*They look around the rainbow room again.*
and something we would do too
But it sounds like something they would go to together.
So? What do we care if this dweeb we have become gets in trouble with his girlfriend?
*They nod their head in agreement*
Now, how the hell are we meant to get there?
We can replicate his signature and use his credit card.
That's not nice! He worked really hard for that money!
Eating Lucky Charms in front of endless chick flicks is not working hard
He deserves all he gets. And again, what do we care? We'll either be out on the run, back in the abyss or gone for good to worry about what happens in this loser's life after we are done with it.
Besides
we do not really intend to come back, do we?
*For a brief second, they seem keen to argue that point but the approaching shadow of obsidian oblivion holds their collective tongue. In a choice between returning to the darkness, seeing the kind of worthless existence their shell had been leading since that tron fall, and going out in a quite literal blaze of gory devastation, there was no choice at all.
And taking a long-standing, hated/loved adversary/friend with them on the grandest stage of them all was just a cherry on the cake.
SHIT is about to get real.
Pooh was about to get real hurt.*
