XWF∞

You know when you wake up in the middle of the night randomly for no reason? It's kind of aggravating right? It's like having someone stab you in the dick and them telling you that it'll feel better in a day. I wake up randomly in the middle of the night sometimes but this wasn't one of those nights, it was intentional. So imagine having your dick stabbed and then your ass relentlessly pounded by a horny black bear. At around 2:00 AM I got a phone call which I blew off because why would I do that at 2:00 AM?

Shortly after, a text message popped up , from my unpaid manager Sebastian Duke. Well, I say unpaid but I give him a non-monetary payment which you'll learn about later...

Now this guy annoys me to no end with his conspiracy theories and latest “projects” but still, even this was not characteristic of him. 2 AM? Dickhead knows better.

I wasn't sure if I wanted to look. Surely he had to be in jail or he got drunk and hit another mailbox.

Fuck it, I pick up the phone and sure enough it's Duke scream texting me in all caps.

DO NOT OPEN YOUR EMAIL.

Well that did nothing but pique my interest and trigger MY CRIPPLING ANXIETY. Who the fuck is Duke to tell me how I handle my emailing business? Like, suddenly I'm just going to abandon the Hotmail account I created 20 years ago? No sir, you have no business telling me how to live my online life. And that's exactly what I texted him.

All good. Now, I'm on the verge of a good sleep when suddenly I hear:

BZZZZZ 

God damn it, Duke. Now I'm pissed off and close to driving down to Salem or wherever the fuck his trailer's parked and ripping his head off. The text message reads:

IM BEING BLACKMALED

Christ even his typos are creepy. Okay whatever, let's see what kind of trouble this idiot has gotten into and why my personal e-mail is involved. I swipe a few screens over to find my mailbox and sure enough, it's sitting at 400 unread messages. Ok, so what the hell is going on and how did I manage to sleep through 400 notifications?

I open the mailbox and mortified to find my innocent inbox has been MUTILIATED by this son of a bitch manager that I hired. It's just flooded with pictures of him in one of his gay photoshoots fondling “twinks” in a pediatrician's office. This motherfucker has crossed the line. My Hotmail account is done for. Who knows what other perverted shit is now attached to my online identity?

I reach under my bed for ol' Glocky and take a quick sip of my Johnny Walker White Walker. I can feel the smoke shooting out of my ears, nose, eyeballs, asshole, etc. I am pissed.

I go for my car keys when all of a sudden I get a Facetime request from Duke. Fuck that, he gets voice only, I don't need to see anymore of his sick acts. I answer the phone and hear some shitty rap country playing in the background.

Maddy: “WHAT DO YOU WANT? I'm on my way over to burn down that shit hole you're living in. You know how much my Hotmail account means to me!”

Duke: “Hey man I'm sorry, I meant to send it over to my boy Thaddeus.”

Maddy: “Duke... that just makes it worse. Why are you sending your son pictures of... you...with... young looking dudes... and is that an actual doctor's office? I swear to God, I'm gonna hold you at gun point until you delete all of this shit off of my phone.”

Duke: “Ok ok man! Bring it on over and I'll fix everything!”

His offer was tempting but God knows what kind of twisted hillbilly shit I would be walking into.

Maddy: “No it's fine. I'd rather not walk into some weird, perverted act you have going on over there.”

Duke: “Yeah, you probably don't want to come over here right now. I've got a few junior members of the Duke Nation suspended from the ceiling by their ankles.”

Maddy: “Christ.”

Click. At least I made the right call by not entertaining a video session. I don't know why I keep this motherfucker around. Oh right, I pay him in foot pictures to handle my bookings and contract signings. Let's see how well that played out because I heard through the rumor mill that XWF00's kick off show was announced.

Of course as soon as I open my internet, I'm the victim of a bunch of perverted targeting ads thanks to Duke. Swear to God I'm gonna shoot this asshole's thumbs off and piss in his ear holes.

Well, after seeing the card it looks like I got the privilege of multiple ass fuckings this weekend.

Oliver Last and Morbid Angel in a fucking walk-in freezer match. Why the fuck is Taffer punishing me with his disdain for dirty walk-in freezers with mold on the walls? The steam coming out of my body, I must look like a train that's gone fucking retarded by now. Now I have no choice but to go pay this asshole conglomerate fuck a visit. Anyway, I take another swig of Walker and pack the Glock in the Mustang. Yes, it's come to that point.

1 hour goes by before I arrive at Duke's weird compound. I pop a single round into the broken down Bronco, that he never fixes, like I always do during my visits. That's my way of ringing the door bell I suppose. He runs out of the front door dressed like a middle school child rapist.

(Sebastian Duke)

Duke: “DUDE, I'M SO SORRY!”

I crack him in the temple with the butt of my pistol. He knew it was coming, we've had our fair share of pistol whip sessions in the past. I take a page out of GM Taffer's book and lay into him verbally.

Maddy: “YOU KNOW HOW LONG I'VE HAD THAT FUCKING HOTMAIL ACCOUNT?!”

Duke: “Look I thought that I sent it to Thaddeus.”

Maddy: "YOU SICK FUCK."

I crack him again, this time just swiping his cheek with the barrel and caving in his chest with my foot. Can't stand weirdos. 

Maddy: “Why are you off posting pictures of... weird shit, compromising my precious email, and getting me booked in three way fuck fests in Antarctica?”

Duke: “Dude, I thought you would like that match for your rockin' debut. The fans are going to be so excited to see you again. Especially with those new tattoos.”

Maddy: “Don't talk about my tattoos. And I told your ass that I needed something simple that would pay well. Did you at least get my booking fee covered?”

Duke: “Yeah uh about that...”

Maddy: “NO. DON'T START WITH THIS SHIT DUKE. DON'T TELL ME YOU DIDN'T GET THE PAY THAT I ASKED FOR. I LOADED THIS GLOCK BEFORE COMING HERE YOU KNOW.”

I grab Duke my his stupid fro and slam him against the trailer.

Duke: “Jon Taffer is difficult to negotiate with, Maddy. The guy doesn't mess around. And I mean, well, your feet pics were a few days late last time. I couldn't get you the 50 big ones but I got you $49,000 per match and he's going to release a whiskey named after you, man!”

Maddy: “49?! YOU MOTHER FUCKER!”

I slam my fist inches from his head because at this point I'd rather lay into his shitty trailer with my fist than rearrange his fat head and rip all the pubes out of his neck. I then empty my clip into the front door of his trailer. There's a dog yelp from inside so I'm pretty sure the last round took care of that infestation.

Duke: “Dude you shot my dog!”

Maddy: “Wait a minute... did you say he's gonna brand a whiskey based off of my likeness?”

Ok maybe this asshole didn't fuck up completely. The whiskey deal caught me off guard.

Duke: “Yeah man.”

Maddy: “Well shit, you could have opened up with that. Here stand up, why are you so flustered? Did your fucking pet die or something?”

I help Duke up to his feet and dust him off. The whiskey deal has my interest despite Taffer being a cock sucker with the financials.

Maddy: “I'll get that door fixed for you and umm replace your dog. So when is that whiskey coming out?”

Duke: “He's got his team working fast and furiously on it, but he made it sound like it would be within the next few months. You know, cause of the fake China virus slowing things down.”

Maddy: “You know what, Duke? Let's set up a meeting with this Jon Taffer guy.”

Duke: “I don't know if that's such a good idea. You don't want to get on this guy's bad side, Maddy. He does not embrace excuses.”

Maddy: “WHAT THE FUCK DID I JUST SAY? Set up the damn meeting, Duke!”

Duke: “Ok ok, I'm on it! I'm just sayin'”

Maddy: “And here clean my gun that you dirtied up with your disgusting boy porn bullshit.”

Duke: “Ok man. What about Morbid Angel and Oliver Last?”

Maddy: “I guess tell them that I might be there on Friday with my ass cheeks spread so all three of us can fuck each other. Actually, we're getting that shit fixed when we meet with Taffer. This is YOUR fuck up. I am not working under those conditions for less money than I'm worth until the whiskey deal is finalized.”

Duke: “Dude, he doesn't embrace exc-”

Maddy: “SHUT THE FUCK UP. IF HE DOESN'T EMBRACE MY EXCUSES THEN HIS ASSHOLE IS GOING TO EMBRACE MY GLOCK! I'll make any fucking excuse I want!”

The next morning I wake up to a phone call from Duke and...

Duke: “Dude he just backed out of the whiskey deal. Fuck I'm sorry.”

Maddy: “Wait, WHAT? Start over.”

Duke: “The whiskey deal is dead.”

Maddy: “WHAT?! Start over again mother fucker!”

Duke: “Whiskey deal is off...”

Maddy: “We didn't even fucking meet. How does he just change his mind on the dime like that? What the fuck did you do? Did you send him those disgusting pictures? I swear to fucking God, Duke...”

Duke: “... Yeah I kinda did... and he's docking your pay by 10% on account of me flooding his email account with... well you know. And because you threatened to back out of the freezer match.”

Maddy: “YOU MOTHER FUCKER. 10%? I don't even know what that fucking leaves me with. Can I even buy groceries or cigarettes making less than $50,000 a match?”

Duke: “Well, yeah. Just cut expenses. Taffer can help with that.”

Maddy: “Cut expenses. That's your solution?”

Duke: “Well, Jon Taffer says it's a good idea to stress test your finances and come up with a healthy business plan.”

Maddy: “That's what he said in response to my suffering?”

Duke: “Kinda...”

Maddy: “We need to meet up with this asshole. He's paying me peanuts, dropping my whiskey brand, and booking me in frozen horse shit matches against the epitome of evil and some other prick with a dumbass name.”

Duke: “Yeah I set up the meeting for you guys. He said to make sure you show up prepared.”

Maddy: “Wait, what the fuck did he say?"

Duke: “Like I said yesterday, you don't want to mess with this guy. He's pretty aggressive when it comes to business. And bars...”

Maddy: “I see. Did you clean my Glock?”

Duke: “Yessir, but I'm not gonna be able to give it to you.”

Maddy: “You're what? Oh motherfucker. I suppose I should hack your dick off with a KFC spork then. Why the fuck wouldn't you return my Glock to me in pristine condition?”

Duke: “Jon has it...”

Maddy: “What?”

Duke: “Taffer...”

Maddy: “Why the fuck does Jon Taffer have my precious Glock? Is everyone just in on fucking Maddy this weekend or something?!”

Duke: “He yelled at me, confiscated it, and said if you want to see it then you have to take it from him.”

Maddy: “Duke. I want you to listen to me very closely. I'm grabbing my keys and heading to that shit hole compound you're in. I'm going to throw you in my trunk and slam the fucking lid on your cock. Then we're gonna take a little trip and pay Taffer a visit. I'm gonna take a whiskey bottle, write my name across the front of it and shove it up his ass. Then I'm taking back my Glock AND SHOOTING YOUR FUCKING DICK OFF WITH IT!

Duke: “Maddy please, this isn't the correct approach...”

Maddy: “SHUT THE FUCK UP! I'M GONNA DRILL HOLES IN YOUR FUCKING LIPS AND ZIP TIE THEM SHUT ALONG WITH YOUR ASSHOLE! I'M DONE WITH YOUR BULLSHIT, DUKE.”

Duke: “Maddy-”

Click.

Hours later I show up at XWF/Bar Rescue headquarters with Duke locked up in my trunk. I make sure to give him one final knuckle shit sandwich before I march up to Taffer's office with a balled up fist. I undress the receptionist with my eyeballs before she escorts me to see the XWF GM and reality TV star. I walk into his office and notice that he's in the middle of a phone call. You bet your ass I slammed my dick on the hang up button and parked my dirty asshole on his desk.

Taffer: “You must be Maddy.”

Maddy: “You must be Taffy.”

Taffer: “Let's talk. How much have you had to drink tonight?”

Wait, what? I start to feel uncomfortable as Jon Taffer slowly rises from his throne. Who is he to ask how much I've consumed?

Maddy: “What do you mean?”

Taffer: “I said, 'how much have you had to drink tonight?'”

Maddy: “Um. N-n-nothing. What the fuck are you talking about... ass ... hole? And where is my... uhm spork – I mean, where is my Glock?”

Taffer: “I don't believe a word that is coming out of your mouth. AND DID YOU JUST CALL ME AN ASSHOLE?!”

Maddy: “NO I DIDN'T CALL YOU AN ASSHOLE?”

Taffer: “OH REALLY? BECAUSE IT SURE SOUNDS LIKE YOU DID!”

Maddy: “MAYBE I'M THE ASSHOLE. AND THIS ASSHOLE WANTS HIS FUCKING SPORK-- GOD DAMNIT NO-- I MEANT I WANT MY FUCKING GLOCK BACK!”

Taffer: “You're gonna have to kill me for it. BECAUSE I'M NOT HERE TO BE YOUR BUDDY!”

Maddy: “WHY THE FUCK NOT?! No-- I mean, GIVE ME MY GUN BACK! PLEASE!”

Taffer: “You're gonna have to prove to me that you deserve to own a gun. Do you want to own a gun or do you want to be a pathetic sack of shit who doesn't follow through with his obligations? You know something? You're beginning to remind me of the pirate bar owners that I tried to rescue. Nothing but excuse after excuse, after excuse. And do you know where those bar owners are now? THEY'RE FUCKING OUT OF BUSINESS AND BURIED BECAUSE THEY WOULDN'T LISTEN TO ME, JUST LIKE YOUR CAREER IS ABOUT TO BE IF YOU DON'T STRAIGHTEN YOUR SHIT OUT, SOBER UP, AND START HAVING SOME SELF FUCKING RESPECT!”

Taffer throws his phone across the office. I'm starting to distance myself from this guy now. I'm inches from the door and my freedom. This guy is too loud and I need to punch Duke.

Maddy: “Well... it hurt me that you backed out of the whiskey deal. Yeah, how about that, Jon? You wanna sit there on your high horse and talk about backing out of deals. I guess it only matters if it's beneficial to Jon Taffer. You promised me a whiskey brand and YOU backed out. Yeah!”

Taffer: “I SHUT DOWN the whiskey deal because you backed out of your contract, Maddy. You threatened to no-show the biggest night in the history of professional wrestling. Why would I put my name on a whiskey brand for someone who doesn't respect me or the XWF?”

Maddy: “Ok well...uh I didn't back out!”

Taffer: “Oh, so you'll be there in two weeks?”

Maddy: “Yeah...you bet your sweet ass I will!”

Taffer: “Ok. I'll tell you what, Maddy. You show me what you're capable of in two weeks and I'll let you have your gun back and I'll reinstate the whiskey deal. We'll call it a 'stress test'”

Maddy: “God damn it... thought I'd get my gun back today and take you out with it...”

Taffer: “Good one. What's it gonna be? Because I'll have security throw your ass out that door right now.”

Maddy: “Come on man... like what the fuck is a refrigerator match anyway? Can you just put me in the Gilmour and Scully match? I love those guys...”

I learn quickly that it's not worth it in the end to get difficult with GM Taffer.

Taffer: “I'm not gonna do that, Maddy. YOU EITHER SHOW UP TO THE GIANT COOLER MATCH SOBER OR I FIRE YOUR ASS AND YOU FUCK OFF TO THE ALL INCLUSIVE PEDO FEDERATION. WHAT'S IT GONNA BE, MADDY?”

Maddy: “FINE I'LL FUCKING BE THERE!”

Taffer: “OH YOU'LL BE THERE ALRIGHT! BECAUSE I BELIEVE IN YOU!”

Maddy: “DAMN FUCKING STRAIGHT I'LL BE THERE TAFFER, AND IF YOU DON'T GIVE ME BACK MY GLOCK AS PROMISED...”

Taffer: “Then what Maddy?”

Maddy: “Then... FUCK I DON'T KNOW. I've fucking had it with this weekend! GOD FUCKING DAMN IT DUKE!”

-- Edited by maddy on Sunday 24th of January 2021 06:09:22 AM

-- Edited by maddy on Sunday 24th of January 2021 06:10:11 AM