Where do we begin? Or, I guess the more accurate pronoun would be ‘I’...where do I begin.

The idea is/was working as a team. And it worked to perfection – until, it didn’t. Super Relentless came along...we were second from the top...arguably the penultimate match of the stellar, three day event. We were facing quite possibly the biggest name in XWF history for one of the promotion’s most coveted titles.

And then…



It all went awry. Not only did we lose...we barely put up a fight. Distractions. Uncertainty. Bottom line, we weren’t who we thought we were. Ill prepared for such a monstrous moment.

And now...now one half of the equation. The most important half remains locked in his bedroom, curled in the fetal position, shedding tears of regret. A broken man. Battered physically, molested emotionally. His psyche reduced to dust. Cracked wider than he was before conquering his original nemesis – Mastermind.

He won’t come out. He won’t play. He won’t show his face. He’s hiding.

I’m left to do all the work.

And work there is to do...just because The Wizard is wallowing in a river of tears doesn’t mean the world waits. It keeps turning. XWF keeps producing shows. Wrestlers keep rising and falling. That’s life. Get up and keep moving or get left behind to die.

I won’t let him give up.

He can hide in the darkness. He can wallow. But I will carry the torch in the hope that sanity will once again reclaim his consciousness.

So, where do I begin? Wherever the fuck I want to.

With nothing new to report in regards to the Wizard’s day-to-day...unless you’d like to stare at his locked bedroom door for the next few hours...I’ll take us back into the past. A bit of time travel, if you will.

We’ll go over what should have already been told. A story left unfinished. The mission that was laid in place to usurp Robert Main.

As the waves take over the screen, close your eyes and come on a journey with me…

---

TRANSMISSION INTERRUPTED

IMPORTANT MESSAGE FOR THE WIZARD

JOIN BOB

JOIN BOB

JOIN BOB

THAT IS ALL

TRANSMISSION RESUMES

---

“There he is…” The Wizard remarked, his head feeling medicinally better. Through his gray beard, an index finger emerged, pointing in the direction of a happy LARPer, carrying his plastic girlfriend home after a frolic in the local park.

My eyes darted toward the Slam Buss.



Parked nefariously near the afternoon lovers. It was like watching an antelope gallop toward a patch of tall grass containing a camouflaged lion.

“Do we…”

The Wizard pulled his finger back through his beard and reached around, grabbing my bicep. His stoic, graceful hat shook left and right. “No. We wait. Need to make sure a crime is indeed being committed.”

I didn’t know he had such morals and regulations when it came to what we were doing...but he did. That’s what I’ve always liked about the guy – stand up, honest. A preacher of transparency.

“AHHHH!!!” a female cried out. Was it the doll? Had to be. No other woman was in sight.

It was the shrill of the LARPer. A shady man had emerged from the Slam Buss and snared the effeminate LARPer’s lover from his flimsy, affectionate embrace.

“Now!” The Wizard sharply enforced.

We sprang from the bushes, sprinting forward. The Wizard shoved the LARPer several feet through the air...he was in our way. A small price for the greater good. The back doors of the Slam Buss were open. The vandal was hidden behind them. With a big boot, The Wizard kicked the door. Unable to shut, it smashed into an obstruction.

“Ugh!” A pain riddled grunt followed by the sound of flesh crashing onto concrete. We rushed around the impacted door to find the assailant on the ground, head split open. Two glazed eyes staring up at the sun.

I surveyed the interior rather quickly. The man had acted alone. We retrieved the doll and handed her back to the terrified and slightly pained LARPer.

“There you go, pal,” The Wizard offered.

“Are you...him?”

The Wizard nodded with his fists atop his hips.

“I’m, like...your biggest fan…” The LARPer’s arms went limp with an embarrassing amount of adoration. Nearly forgetting his significant other, he rushed to keep her from falling to the ground.

“Well, I appreciate that,” The Wizard responded, reaching out and patting the LARPer on the head, “you just make sure you root for me against Robert Main at Relentless.”

Speechless, the LARPer nodded in accordance.

“C’mon, Eddie, let’s commandeer this vehicle and finish this job once and for all.”

We restrained the assailant and threw him into the back of the Slam Buss before firing up the engine and driving away.

---

TRANSMISSION INTERRUPTED

IMPORTANT MESSAGE FOR THE WIZARD

JOIN BOB

JOIN BOB

JOIN BOB

THAT IS ALL

TRANSMISSION RESUMES

---

What the hell was that? WHO IS BOB? I’m trying to tell a story here!

Geezus.

Really hope he isn’t seeking a new agent. It wasn’t my fault. None of this was.

Anyway, back to the story…

---

“Look!” I shouted, trying to show The Wizard the assailant’s cellphone. An act I instantly regretted as we nearly flew off the road, into a telephone pole.

“Get that thing out of my face, Eddie! I’m trying to drive the Slam Buss!”

A few drivers traveling the opposite way took a long gander at a giant wizard driving a creepy white van with the phrase ‘Slam Buss’ on the side.

I’d made a mistake, so I apologized, “Sorry. It’s a list of locations.”

I scrolled through the locations. All appeared to be home addresses. Most of the apartments as evidenced by the hash tag and number following each standard address.

“Those must be the rest of today’s victims,” The Wizard discerned, while stroking his majestic beard. I nodded. It sounded on point.

“Hold up,” I cautioned. The Wizard slammed the brakes. “Whoa, not literally, keep driving. I found something down below all these addresses...instructions.”

The Wizard slapped the dash, “Well be more clear next time! I’m driving the Slam Buss, this thing isn’t exactly the smoothest ride.”

My eyes viewed instructions concerning delivery of the daily pick ups to...The Island.

“What is The Island?” he asked. I shrugged.

Information we were without. Information we would obtain.

---

TRANSMISSION INTERRUPTED

IMPORTANT MESSAGE FOR THE WIZARD

JOIN BOB

JOIN BOB

JOIN BOB

THAT IS ALL

TRANSMISSION RESUMES

---

FOR THE LOVE OF JEHOVAH

ENOUGH WITH THIS BOB STUFF.

That’s it. I’m gonna spout back. Fuck these guys, trying to annoy my client when he’s in a state of disrepair. Mentally weakened. Trying to take advantage of the (temporarily) emotionally . Fuck them.

Wait.

What’s this?

An XWF update? Ah shit, did they fire us? They probably fired us. I mean, we did kind of shit the bed in the penultimate match at Super Relentless. I wouldn’t blame them if they fired us.

That’s okay. We’ll find a new promotion and work our way back up. I’ll just need to figure out a sensitive way to broach the spikey subject. After all, can’t…

HOLD UP

A title shot? At Warfare? Seriously?

Fuck yea.

BACK
IN
THE
GAME

---

“WHAT IS THE ISLAND!” The Wizard screamed at our captive in the back of the Slam Buss while I anxiously awaited in line at the nearest Taco Bell.

Why Taco Bell? Well, you’re about to find out.

His lips were pursed. Sealed. Tighter than the legs of a preacher’s daughter. He lacked motivation to speak.

“Look man,” The Wizard tried reasoning, “there are a lot of lonely, sad little men out there who want their loved ones back. You can’t just go around stealing people’s lovers, even if they aren’t technically ‘real’, okay? They paid good money for these ‘chicks.’ Plus, I mean, you really want sloppy seconds from a sex doll?” He pitched a solid argument.

Still, the captive wouldn’t budge. It was clear we were embarking upon dangerous territory. To speak might lead this man into the realm of the dead. A one way ticket six feet under. An express pass to greet his deceased ancestors.

I pulled up, “Order for Edward Mof?”

“Yep!”

“Lucky man, this is the last one in our store. It might be the last one in the country.” He handed the precious bag over. I swear to you, as I sit here, hammering this out, that an ethereal light shone from that bag, into the heavens. It was the greasy holy grail.

“Thanks. By the way, here’s my card, I’m a dating coach, should you ever need a push in the right direction.” I extended my business information.

“Nah fam, I’m good. I got all the hunnies up in here riding this cock, ya know what I’m saying?”

I drove away. Anybody who uses the word fam doesn’t deserve any additional amount of my precious time. Reaching back, I handed the holy grail to The Wizard.

“Alright, maybe now we’ll get you to talk.”

The captive’s eyes widened as soon as his olfactory senses were delighted by the aroma of Taco Bell. The Wizard smiled, “Ha, yea, I knew this would work.”

---

Who is Robbie Bourbon? Easy Answer: The Hart Champion.

Does that mean he HAS Hart? What exactly IS the Hart Championship, since we’re on the subject. Who did he WIN the Hart Championship from? So many questions.

Questions we’d get to in time. The important fact remained ahead in line – The Wizard had been given a shot at redemption. A chance to rebound his missed free throw and hit a three pointer for the win. Surely this would pick his head up, entice him to step out of his bedroom and into the light and, well, hopefully the gym. I’m sure some atrophy had lessened his greatly improved physique.

But...Robbie Bourbon. Before smartening up my client, I needed to do some research. Information had to be gathered about this Bourbon fellow. And, then, information regarding the Hart Championship.

I smiled.

For the first time in what felt like ages I had a use. My managerial skills were being put to work. I felt active. I...we, were back in the game.

---

He shook his head left to right, violently. The act resembled a child refusing to open his mouth for some necessary medication. A barricade between COVID and Death, perhaps. Only this was no kid...it was a man, our captive. And he was blocking us from freeing a bunch of enslaved sex dolls on some place called ‘the island’.

“Alright, that’s it. It’s time to get medieval,” The Wizard’s ominous voice bellowed. I was okay with his nomenclature. He removed something glorious from the bag of truth, the holy grail of grease and spice. He removed...the final Taco Bell MEXICAN PIZZA. Or, at least, the final one known to exist within our area.

The captive’s eyes widened.

The Wizard smiled, stroking his magical beard, “Oh yea, you like that, don’t you? You want this, don’t you?’

Sweat formed and poured down the captive’s face.

“Only way you’re getting this is if you tell me everything I need to know about...The Island.”

His muscles tightened. His eyes widened. The Captive did his best to hold out but everyone within the Slam Buss knew he was truly fucked.

---

Great news. Great news. Not fake news. GREAT NEWS. Pacing within The Wizard’s one bedroom apartment, I tried to keep my anxiety under wraps. A hard thing to do in such a shoddily built apparatus. Before presenting this exciting development to The Wizard, I had to obtain info.

So, Robbie Bourbon.

A last name that portends alcoholism. I’m sure that was no accident. He either thought it was a funny and, or cool last name to roll with OR he comes from a stricken lineage drowned in alcoholism.

Robbie...a slack-jawed, informal version of the more regal, more serious ROBERT. Say, we faced a Robert back at Super Relentless and, well, it didn’t go so great. So perhaps we should have, in hindsight, started off with a Robbie or Rob or Bobby. Whatever the case...we’ve got our Robbie. Another sign that this guy doesn’t take things too seriously. OR he doesn’t have the confidence in his abilities that a Robert Main might.

I’m grasping, I know. But I need straws if I’m gonna drink up any information on this guy.

---

Hand extended outside one of the back windows, The Wizard dangled the goods haphazardly close to disaster. I watched, via the side mirror as that delicious Mexican pizza hung in the balance. It gave my appetite a kick in the ass. We would be snaring Mexican food on the way to The Island. Oh yes. We would.

“I’m telling ya, I’m going to drop this Mexican Pizza on the fucking ground if you don’t give me the answers I seek.” The captive nearly puked at the thought of the final Taco Bell Mexican Pizza going to waste. It was more than his bowels could bear. “Seriously! Just tell me...not only will you get the Mexican Pizza but you’ll also be saving a bunch of sex dolls from a life of involuntary sex labor.”

His eyes teared up. Images of past abductions played across them like a 35mm film inside a seedy dollar movie house. The looks on the victim’s faces as they were ripped from their lovers arms. The idea of these plastic women being forced, against their will, to perform unwanted fellatio and reckless bare-backing. It was all too much.

The man broke.

“Alright, I will speak about The Island.”

His guts, along with those words, were instantly spilled.

---

The Hart Championship. It’s found its way around Robbie Bourbon’s waist. I’m guessing this took place at Relentless. The archives don’t say much. Some guy named Dynamic Dynamite held it a few times and then the history just sort of falls off a cliff.

Since the authority for XWF information (being the website) still lists some weirdo by the name of Nathaniel, I’m going to guess this is probably your first title defense, Bourbon. The first one is always the hardest, they say. You don’t want to be a one and done champion.

…

This all feels so uninspired. What can I say? That Robbie Bourbon has a baby dick and spends his time jacking off to anime? I’m not a trash talker. That’s The Wizard’s job. A job he’s treated with the kind of dereliction only a jobber would find acceptable. It’s MY job to make sure he’s on par. It’s my job to ensure he’s ready to go. I think it’s about time I start doing THAT job.

Imma knock on his door. Pray for me, peeps.

---

I wrote with fury. My hands maneuvered that pen with precision, equanimity, and grace. Like a Black Swan. Oh yes, Black Swan...especially that lesbo scene between Portman and Kunis. But I digress. I feverishly penned all the sordid details to a very seedy sounding isle. My eyes flirted with the side mirror every so often, catching a glimpse of the Mexican Pizza hanging outside.

“Yum.” My vocal cords instinctively pushed through my moistened lips. I was growing hungrier by the glance. It was nearing lunch time. The eating hour. That aroma, wafting through the air might draw attention.

“Is that?” I asked, leaning forward upon noticing an incoming pedestrian peddling a shaky bike. “He’s heading our way…”

Wedged between silence and interruption, I staked my claim upon the former. The Island was what was important, not some drifter gliding by on a bike.

He peddled closer and closer and closer. Surely he wouldn’t make a move on that Mexican Pizza. Surely he would scoot right on by, en route to his point of destination. Reaching the rear end of the Slam Buss, I noticed how close to the side of the vehicle he was.

“Uh…” I started to speak. But, it was too late. He reached up, snared the Mexican Pizza and sped off, peddling like Lance Armstrong after an additional boost of adrenaline into his competitive veins. The Wizard’s interrogation came to a hefty halt. He looked up, my eyes met his in the rear view mirror. His pupils were full of ‘what the fuck just happened’.

I shrugged. Stick to the plan. We were so close.

“What...what’s going on?” the captive asked.

“NOTHING!” The Wizard yelled back, shaking the man violently. His magical beard tickling the man under the nose. “ACHEW!” the captive sneezed. The Wizard continued shaking him. The man kept sneezing. “Please, ACHEW! Stop! I have sensitive sinuses!”

“Then give me the final details!!” The Wizard shook with violent passion, his beard tickling the captive rougher than ever.

“ACHEW!!!” Blood shot from the man’s nose, all over the floor of the van. The Wizard’s shaking ceased.

“Eww…” The Wizard commented, looking down.

“I told you!”

Bringing his hand back in, The Wizard inspected his majestic robe to make sure it wasn’t stained with criminal blood. He sighed with relief upon discovering it was not.

“Hey...where’s my pizza?”

“Uhh,” The magical beard of The Wizard seemed to twist and turn in a mythical breeze. “It’s...outside?”

“You dropped it on the ground? YOU HEATHEN!” The criminal rushed for the back doors. “What is this, a no contact delivery? Man, people will KILL for that thing! Let me out!”

I unlocked the Slam Buss. He shoved on the back doors, opening them.

“Hit it!” The Wizard ordered. I stomped on the gas. We sped off. The sudden change in momentum sent the criminal tumbling onto the ground.

Several hundred yards away, I watched as the criminal stumbled around, looking for his Mexican Pizza. Once the true horror embedded within a terrible moment traumatized his consciousness, he let out a blood curdling scream. “NOOOOOO!!!”

Not only had he betrayed his employer, put his family in danger, and left enough DNA in the back of this van for us to frame him for several crimes...but he’d been deprived of the greatest lunch imaginable. He was not having a good day.

Crawling into the passenger’s seat, The Wizard cast a wizardly gaze my way, “You get all that?”

“Yep.”

With a legendary point of his mighty finger, The Wizard declared, “To The Island!”

---

KNOCK KNOCK

“Hey, you in there?” Yes, it was a stupid question. Of course he was in there. He’d been locked up since Super Relentless.

“go away”

Well, that wasn’t the WORST response. “Listen, I’ve got some news for you…”

“unless this is about Yvonne Strahovski being announced as returning for the final, special season of Dexter...THEN I DON’T WANT TO HEAR IT.”

“Well, I mean the odds are in her favor. That was a prime storyline.”

There was an awkward pause as we both considered pleasuring ourselves to the mental image of Yvonne Strahovski.



I shook the temptation from my consciousness, “But that’s not why I’m here. It’s about your wrestling career. It’s about XWF.”

“GO AWAY!”

“But”

“I SAID GO AWAY!!”

Defeated, my back met the cheaply built apartment wall. Sliding down, which felt kinda good because there was this infuriating itch back there, my ass soon hit the ground in defeat. Was it all over? Was The Wizard’s career terminally ill?

“is…”

What was that?! Was that his voice? Was he continuing the line of conversation?

“is...is it for a title?”

“Yes.”

I heard the giant body belonging to a man of The Wizard’s size moving around atop a mattress.

“is…is it the main event?”

“Yes.”

More movements, followed by plodding foot steps. They approached. Closer and closer. I scrambled to my feet. The door knob unlocked and turned...the door slowly pulled open and...THERE HE WAS! A shell of his former self, sure. In dire need of a shave, bath, and mental examination...but it was him! Alive and fairly well!

“I guess we can talk…”

“GREAT!”

A few minutes later.

“How’s that instant coffee?”

The Wizard took a less than satisfied sip, “Tastes like instant coffee.”

“That’s okay. We just need you alert while we go over the details.”

He nodded. I slid over a notepad. His eyes read what was on the notepad – very quickly. Because, well, there wasn’t much on there. “This...is all you have on my opponent?”

“Sorry, but I couldn’t really gather much information. He looks like a cartoon character and is the Hart Champion.” The Wizard took a thoughtful sip of his instant coffee before frowning and uttering something that sounded like ‘disgusting sludge.’ The break in conversation allowed my mind to wrap itself around the name BOB and its continuous interruptions. So, I leaned in, curious if the name would ring a bell with my client. Curious if he were working behind my back with a new organization, “Are you familiar with BOB?”

“Only Bob I’d call a friend is Saget.”

That was acceptable and, well, somewhat admirable. Bob Saget is a hell of a guy.



“Well, that’s good to know. Because I’ve been getting these interruptions from a group called BOB and, it’s kinda been freakin me out.”

The Wizard slammed the bottom of his coffee cup against the table stop, spilling some mildly caffeinated moisture on the floor, “Ed! I’m tired about hearing messages you’re receiving from guys named Bob who aren’t Saget. I need to know about my match. What title is it for? The Universal Title? Did Lacklan finally grow a pair of ovaries and accept a challenge from someone who isn’t main eventing special needs events?”

“Uh, no. Actually, I think Lacklan got canned. Or, well, maybe that was an angle. Here, let’s check the site…”

Leaning closer, I took control of the laptop in front of The Wizard. He cast a suspicious eye my way, “Seriously, BOB is a group. It isn’t some homosexual rendezvous.”

“I’ve got my eye on you, Ed.”

“Great,” tapping a few buttons and the site came up, “Okay, there...see, VACANT.”

“Oh wow, so they really did fire the weak ass bitch.”

“Apparently.”

“What’s the Hart Title?”

Eureka! Talk about a coincidence! “Well, since you brought it up, that’s the title you’ll be competing for at Warfare. Don’t mind the archive...it says Nathaniel something or other, your actual opponent is…”

“It says Robbie Bourbon.”

“Oh?” I looked, “Huh, look at that. They must have updated it. Good for them. But, yea, that’s your opponent.”

The Wizard leaned back. I continued to opine, “We’ll have to dig into this guy’s past. Figure out how his mind works. He gets to pick the stipulation of the match...I mean, it could be any match. Falls Count Anywhere, Cage, Hell in a Cell, Something on a Pole, Hair vs Hair, Iron Man, Texas Death Match, Clown Caper Match, Violent Rose Petal Match, Death Becomes Her Match, Flying Facsimile Match, Taipei Whiplash Match…”

“Dude, stop,” The Wizard put my mental meanderings to a halt. “Half of those aren’t even legit.”

“Oh, they are. Just very much in the underground world of professional wrestling.”

“Well, whatever...I don’t care about the stip. I’m sure whatever he names I can handle.”

There it was. That confidence. My man!

“But...here’s something you failed to notice,” he scrolled down Boubon’s profile. “It looks like HE’S IN BOB.”

“You mean his penis is inside Bob Saget?”

“NO! He’s in the group BOB...the group that’s probably harassing you.”

“Aye caramba! I should have known. He’s trying to throw us off our game. Nefarious jerk.”

A chair too small for such a large man moaned as The Wizard leaned back, stroking his bare chin, apparently forgetting his beard was unattached. “I think I have an idea…”

“Great. But listen...even if we don’t know much about this guy, we can build this whole thing around your comeback. Your revival. You bouncing back from your first, legit defeat. This is a redemption story, man. This is your chance to get back on course. To return to your ascension up the XWF ranks. This is your shot to regain your aura!”

He leaned in, eyeing me with tenacity, “OR...I could conjure up a fable for my LARPers.”

I was kinda dumbfounded, “Well, I mean, sure. If you want.”

“They haven’t heard the good news, have they?”

“No, you’ve been hiding ever since solving the case.”

“Great. Find out the next big LARPing event. I shall announce the amazing news while also unveiling a fable that will echo generations.”

Gotta be honest. I was lost. No idea what he was talking about. But, he had that fire. The flame was burning once again. There was no way my confusion would smother it out. With pep in my step, I moved to honor his request.

---

Get ready, XWF.

Prepare yourselves for a fable.

A fable so rich that it WILL echo generations.

And, Robbie Bourbon.

Get ready.

To.

Bask.

IN HIS AURA.