Destruction of a Statue, the Redux of Duece

By: Brandon Moore

Writing Prompt: No

Date: 4th Mar 2022

Stitch the lips closed, so that the promises are not in vain. Beautiful lies, broken dreams, false hope and hidden secrets. That is what can be found in the outside world.. But I won’t let it drag me down. All doors are nailed up and locked, the windows are closed. The glass reflects the brightest blue of my walls so that the sky is always smiling when I look out.




So everybody listen up.. I think my voice is bleeding. By every second breath I take, the picture starts to grow. I am not afraid to fall asleep, I am not afraid to die. As long as we stand aside.. we can make it through.



Against all demons if we..



All the wrongness in this world..

So everybody listen up, I think my voice is bleeding. By every second breath I take, the picture starts to grow.. And as I am walking, I hear the other voices talking through my ears into my head. 

Torture is everything we had..

So that the sky is always smiling.

Chapter 3

              Destruction of a Statue

To Whom it May Concern,

Let me take the microphone and spit the knowledge like a single mother holding down two jobs and working her way through college does when the dope man finally nut. In this situation you’ve created, now you’re the slut in distress and I’m the smack you procure by spreading your ass crack. No, no, thank you for the fake love that burrowed into the back of my skull.

Make my brain explode!



I hope you like what I’ve done to the place. With the squeeze of an itchy finger, the verbal laceration rips off each of your two faces. Because you’ve joined all of my enemies trying to suck me on the low. Like all of them, you’ll try and give me the business, but we all know that like them, it’s all for show. That is why in the future of your life, everyday will be spent looking for the next star to blow. Then maybe your life, possibly your career, can have some further purpose beyond the shitty mat in front of the doorstep as I add a little more to your plate.

Such a damn waste. Now it’s time for..

Little Joey’s Taste

Your mouth leaves behind the tang of a dirty Montuori wang. Your “legendary” last name turned into nothing more than garbage slang tossed out as an insult. Let us take it from the beginning, when you “shocked” the world and were revealed as the mysterious and elusive “The Producer” over in that literal Outlaw promotion we were all left to toil away in because the wool of this bigger world had been pulled over our heads by another “shock” return soon to grace our front page. 

You immediately did what you always do and surrounded yourself with as much top talent as possible to reform your pathetic joke of a crew named “FoCuS” like it was still 2002. But in the year 2020 the ship had sailed and you were revealed to be the anchor wrapped around our throats that held us down until we did our shit without you. Strat took and never released the Immortal strap, and I was force feeding a brand new era of ultra brutality that the world had never seen, and everybody else was just basically worthless. That includes you, your brother, cousin, fuck buddy, whatever the fuck Paulie is to you, Michelle and the other guy who was so ineffective that I never bothered to remember his name.

This is the story of your life Joe. One leech job after another to give yourself some form of credibility that you lack all by your lonesome. It is even more punctuated now that you are pretty much all on your own. Well.. besides the fact that you’re now somebody else’s BITCH and “talent” which really means that you’re just a doofus front line soldier sent in to get slaughtered while your master sneaks around to do the deed or whatever the fuck it is you phoney marks have all been collected for. Don’t even try and think that any of them will be able to prevent what is going to happen to you, boy. Nobody is going to be able to stop the coming bloodshed as I pound your face into mush while you’re crying. Here, I will let you mooch off of me one last time and give you the title of your Worst Seller book that will only be useful when you are eventually a broke cunt that can’t keep the heat on so you turn to your accomplishment with even more tears in your eyes; And you have to toss them all in the barrel in the middle of your studio apartment in the ghetto of Harlem so you can prolong your meaningless life. “Always Crying and Always Lying, a Joe Montuori Story.”

I’ll take my ten percent in blood at Venom, save you a couple dollars. You’re gonna need ’em.

Oops, now I’ve completely exposed you Little Joey, and I ain’t sorry. And I feel bad for anyone stupid enough to believe your fanatical fictional stories. I am neither judged nor judging, just speaking the truth of you. I’m free like you wish you could be. You will try to find holes in my story and I’ll just point to holes in my body. Holes that tell the tales of knifes wounds and shotguns ringing. The struggle and suffering and murder and robbery. You don’t know anything about it, no matter how many thugs you have to pay cash to hang out with you that you’re around. There’s no scars on that body, and there’s no cuts. There’s no story worth telling all of us, is there Little Joey? There’s no soul in that body for you to be good or evil, just a figment of some dweebs imagination. and you just can’t trust a truly empty husk of crap. There’s only one thing inside you worth having.

Only blood..

I need your blood and guts, Little One.

Give Me

Your Blood


Nah, don’t you dare give it away for free. Make me earn it Joe, because I fucking yearn for it Joe. Fuxk it, get your ass a snack, and Dru, you take your succulent thicccc ass on over there and roll us a blunt. Lemme tell ’em somethin. Let me tell you a quick story little guy.


The shell I had become of a man formerly known as Brandon Moore has been a prison I put my own damn self into trying to please a vindictive ole lady that never really gave two fucks about me. And from this prison, you could hear the growling hunger of this Beast just dying to be on the loose once again. Oh for the love of extreme menace and malice won’t somebody please come along and show me how to believe again. And then, after too long, We had our close to dying wish granted just as Our spark was almost squashed, and you would have been stuck with that joke I was portraying before. He wasn’t Little Joey bad..


Our wish was granted, as along came this wonderful creature who’s aura and energy were radiating in the most beautiful neon crimson I had ever saw. And the wounded out there know only one of the many of Our wounded can see the scars we’re burdened to carry. And she saw mine. With no intentions beyond just purity of a familiar blackened heart, Druscilla White came into my life a while ago now. She became my one and only true friend in this world who reached out a hand to offer help as I was drowning into the dark abyss of complacency. I was rejecting the notion of being true to myself so I could do right by them. But my fears would soon all manifest as I had begun to believe that there was a chance that Paul could be Ezra’s father. All that toxic weight I was forced to carry on my shoulders? I’m surprised all I did was crack. Most people would have blown up and never been the same again.

Luckily I was already riding that crazy train.

Oh how fate was kind for once but why will I never be able to understand why she has a dirty hand shoved up and in my business, I will never understand. And since then, my Black Willow has blossomed from my best friend to the person that I’ll never allow to leave my life ever again. She understands, all she wanted to know was from which wrist I had wanted the blood. And that is why she had been watching over me through some astral projection type shit when I had come to learn that I already had a son named Preston, with my first Willow I had ever found, Tina. And the night I had found out, I had gotten to go and meet him and finally be there for my son while he had a major revelation coming his way. I only hoped he didn’t hate me too much, yano? But this kid, he’s a damn rockstar. He understood and everybody was cool. We had a good night. But without my Black Willow.. I never would have made it there. But that, Little One, is a story for another time.

Back to the way this is normally done.

Is that even how it’s done?

Fuck, We better hope it boss, We need the fuggin points. 

You put on quite the show though, Joe. I must admit. You have a true skill at being a fake two faced bitch. Dqmn, how the fuck can a “man” make Michelle seem like a nice ole lady  But it just goes to show why you were unable to properly pull your own weight. Why ya think your master plan was to mooch off the backs of your collection of Boogeymen to gain some form of relevancy? Too stupid to see the true picture being painted before you as Strat manipulated your manipulation into his very own personal gain. I’d have seen it, if it weren’t for the heroin I am constantly falling back on because I was the idiot that surrounded himself with nothing but fake ass puppets with their own agendas. None of which were able to match the master plan by Strat to completely bury your joke ass. Don’t worry, I was buried too. As I am buried now.



That consists of having you as my first defense of this title that I didn’t believe to be but  I guess truly is the low card belt. Or at least it was until I took over. Now you’re going to see this championship mean something and have a little value. It isn’t the belt that makes the champion. Unless your last name is Montuori, then you will have to rely on the strap to give you your place in this business.. A real badass top dog takes the belt he possesses and forges his own path and legacy. Now I get the chance to pick up where I had left off in that mud show as the XKore Champion, and return us all to the glory of Ultra Brutality. Brandon Moore in hand to hand Bare Knuckle combat? SHIT.. There isn’t another I’d want in that role than yours truly and you who are unfortunately fated to grace my circle of blood, especially you Little Joey, should be fucking terrified. Make sure they have the EMT’s on standby Joe.. I ain’t trying to catch a case over some washed up has been such as your bitch ass. Brandon Moore is the Bare Knuckle Champion, and the belt will remain attached to my dick until I wish otherwise. But..  I mean.. If you want it Joey, come and take it from the ground by my feet. Let me move Dru’s big ole sexy ass off me first so I can take this up off of me and lay it down there. While I finish off my sexy, slutty for daddy, Harry Potter ass spell casting biker broad. Mmmm, comeer, Brandon just wants another lickity sliticky. Oh.. Right.. My “opponent.” You’ll be allowed to crawl in here on your hands and knees like a doggie blessing me, but there won’t be any satisfying treat to be had. Just the world watching as Little Joey waves his crusty tighty whitey’s as the white flag while screaming at the top of his lungs..



You will still be crying as I rip out your heart and add it to my blender. Pathetic puny man, there is no surrender. When I saw this week’s booking, I was so relieved because it meant I didn’t have to pause my ongoing bender. It must sting to know that the moment you saw our names across-the-board from each other that your heart sank and you became a prophet foretold of the future. It is the same as every Little Joey’s future.. where you will never matter. 

Look at it!




Everywhere the eye can see… every surface… Fingertips trace the lines of desecration to remember the betrayal that always lay in your wake. Deception lies in my heart and the heartbeat of distillation rages on to the fire of the image forever imprinted upon my destroyed psyche. Lost in the fire of a burning wilderness, led by your cold and unforgiving hand. Your soul sucking touch. Like a leech.

A virus.

My very cancer.

Uncle Vladdy tries to wave his hands in my face to catch my attention, but this evil bastard must wait.. my internal reflection isn’t quite through with telling everyone the total truth of everything they perceive to be you. The heartless lying harlot of an apple that claims to be of a different tree, but nothing more than the same feather she swore to abhorrence. My heart was inexcusably shattered into a million tiny fragments, resembling closely the deep scans of my blackened brain and soul.

How could this become of a love so grand? Did the stars have this plan of sole survival plotted the course from the very beginning? Or were there devious mechanisms at work behind the scenes, dancing poetically to whispers of ache and death. Oh sweet whispers, just grace my ears once more. Embrace me ever cold so my determination and will can continue to grow bold as you’re just washed up and old, sold on down the line because it was you holding me behind all along. Dragging you and you both along like a game of carpool, except momma Moore didn’t raise no damn fool.

She didn’t raise me at all.

Sucks for All of You

I return to prominence as Uncle Vladdy is sitting next to me as we are across from a stranger. The person I did not know, only that I was here to hear the offer of a lifetime. A fortune waiting for me at the end of a familiar line of work, the tip of a familiar blade. The remorseless steel is always around the corner to remind me of how easy the way out of all of this would be. Just two cupped mouths and a couple snicky snacks of the necks. Everybody would ask whatever happened to Paulie Montuori after that. Sorry bubba.

Those are just the facts.

You forgot Brandon Moore was sicker than a diseased rat, and your slobby fat snatched ass.

But I was getting ahead of myself, per usual. The sloppy man sitting across from my uncle and I was the walking definition of every complaint you’ve heard from my mouth so far. His gross neglect towards his hubris and gluttony was almost fallacy, if not for the fact that it was sitting right in smack dab in front of my face laughing as if he had just sat on an infant and squashed it’s goo all over your mother’s brand new rug.

That’s gonna leave a stain.

And of course, bitches gonna bitch.

I couldn’t tell you what these two devilish men were negotiating about, except that it involved me, a boatload of cash and a buncha other shit I’m too doped up to even give a fuck about. Such is my life, and boy jolly ain’t it a fuggin life you wish you had? Do drugs kid, and fuck up your life worse than daddy did mommy’s when you were but a little snot nosed puke kid. Maybe.. just maybe.. a single pathetic maggot could have an ounce of the respect it commands to even approach my presence. The man across from us speaks to me like I am not a beast that will rip across this table and snatch his throat. Crush the pipe.

What a life.

If all the effort that was spent into the betrayal of the supposed Queen was spent on the foundation of my new monarchy, then we would already be at the top of the world. Now I gotta go and do it on my own, my own way. And boy, is it about to get real nasty around here. Bloody and decapitated body parts during secret Santa. Fight is just going to love being reintroduced, again, yet again, to me. The epitome of broken dreams and dead end streets. Why is it that your eyes always paralyzed me anyway? I just remember your face imprinted on angels, carried by the sounds of waves crashing against my heart. Oh yeah, this devil was about to say something.

“Welcome to the Games, Number One.”

You’re Goddamn right I am number one motha fugga. Ain’t this dude met me yet? But wait, something funny is going down. All of a sudden two larger men than myself have me held down to the chair I had been sitting in. My eyes immediately shoot to Uncle Vladdy, who is leaning back as if nothing major was happening.


I try to wrestle free, but these gorillas are pretty beastly themselves. Another approaches me with some sort of collar, and facens it around my neck, a lock sequenced by a numerical lock.

“Since your uncle here is so forthcoming with helping fund this operation, you are to be our only monster allowed to walk free, in good faith that you will be at the address given when it is given.”

Me? A monster? I had given that all up for my family, to be given a fair chance at being a good man. My eyes scan my surroundings as the sinking realization of what I have ended up getting myself into began to creep up from the bottom of my bawl sack and drip, drop from the tip of my erect penis, with thanks to Uncle Vladdy of course, insufferable prick. Wait, your dick is hard? Shit, mine too. Maybe some good shit about to go down then.

Thank God for you Brandon Moore..

Thank God for you..

The whole conversation that had just transpired while I was lost in my endless cascading images which always illuminate the back of my sweet narcotic bliss eyelids began to play out in my recollection; my soul giving in to the situation rather than fighting against it. Why fight against the system in a losing battle? I was already bought and paid for, my junkie ass was just too stupid while signing on the dotted line to realize it. But as the muscles of my body begin to loosen, the stress and tension leaving like expelled negative energy from my wolf’s ritualistic cleansing spells she so gracefully showers me with, I realize am completely fucked in the head. But she still chose me in my shed.


The new beautiful presence in my life..

Maybe this was just the way my life was always meant to turn out anyway? The loss of my love has led to the reunion of my brother, my sister, and the whole damn commune we call a family that I allowed her manipulative nature to slowly pull me away from, luring me into a trip that held me stuck in it’s crimson daggers of claws that held tightly on my throat every time I had the nerve to even attempt to try and speak. The toxicity of her duplicity was astounding, and intoxicating all the same. She was a living and breathing contradiction that parades around as the truth and candy. But it doesn’t matter anymore.

It hasn’t mattered for a very long time, for my heart had begun to wander at the random sightings of the wolf in my travels. Always just around the bend, waiting to come put her lovely snout up against mine. Couldn’t she see already that I was drowning in the vast sea of my own loneliness? Is that why she’s come? But if you think I am complaining, then you are mistaken. I know the cause of my mess..

And his name is Brandon Moore.

Fourth wall break and I am in your face.

Have you ever heard of the Tragedy of Brandon Moore the DECEIVER? You’re already on part three.

Next time, you’ll get to see a Beast in his first ever war. Brandon and his son bonding in the way he had feared, but was far too eager to embrace it. Also, the ever evolving influence of Druscilla White and the beginning spark of a passionate collision of two disasterpieces who are finally getting their last first chance at feeling whole again.

Yep.. I really wrote that cheesy ass shit.

That and I will bury my next opponent under a flurry of words that even I can’t understand. But damn, why do I have so many fans?

See you next week for Chapter 4, Two and A Half Men With A Dead Whore Riding Shotgun.

So much fun, you’ll feel like you’re spun and have your blinds cracked back cuz you know the neighbors cat is the police. Seriously, it’s the fuckin’ 5-0 Uncle Vladdy.

“Sigh..” Uncle Vladdy looks y’all’s way.

“Turn that shit off, we gotta go turn this small “abandoned” town into Ukraine.”