here we go again

By: Brandon Moore

Writing Prompt: Yes

Date: 27th Dec 2021

 

“AIN’T Y’ALL BITCH ASS NERDS HEARD THE WORD!?”

 

“Heard what word grandmaster Papa Moore?”

 

“DUB FUGGIN DUB BAY BAY!”

 

“OH NO!”

 

“THE GREATEST TAG TEAM THERE EVER WAS HAS RETURNED ONCE AGAIN TO SHOW EM ALL HOW THE FUCK IT’S DONE AGAIN.. AGAIN!”

 

“No! You can’t call yourself a team or the stank pussies in NSQ will take your blood money Lord Moore!”

 

Well shit fella, this faceless voice has a point. I pull out a fifty dollar blood bill for the whole entire world to see. Do you know what is going to happen next? I reach down the back of my ass with that bill and dig it in all nice and deep ‘n shit, literally and pull it back out before tossing it out into a sail through the air.

 

“THERE YA GO DICKIE! NOW SIT YOUR BITCH ASS BACK DOWN WITH THE REST OF YA CLOWNS.”

 

DUB DUB

we will show you how to be the one and only true tag team champions of the world. we will show you how to be

 

THEM ISLAND BOYS

 

the prelude

“what does this shit even mean?” a question asked only by those without imagination. it is the question asked by those who can only do an imitation of what has come before. but this following message is for the NSQ. it is okay fellas, it’s time to let real champions take over so the belts will actually matter and be seen by the world. y’all just hide em. see where I am going here? do you see the difference? don’t you see how your weak crew isn’t worthy of such shiny things that they don’t know what to properly do with? oops, my bad. what a fuckin’ long description.

 

They asked me if I could change one thing from this past year, what would I change? Before I could even begin to form a rational thought, my skeleton was contorted by wind that shaped me into a ghastly sight never before seen in a world of make believe. This skin has been hardened by the bitter kiss of winter that turns my lips blue and my heart frozen all across the game board they stuck us on. A gracious light shines through the bare bones of yesterday, promising to repair the damage of another broken heart worn on another tattered sleeve. It feels helpless and worthless trying to hold it all together, but as the seasons do, the pain will all wash away, and I know there’s hope for tomorrow, but what could there possibly be that had to even be needed and changed?

 

The overhead lights are on, and I am relieved to be given the cold caress of a new day in my lungs. Old worn trees still stand like bones across the blue sky with nobody left to ask or question why that.. why all that was good was destined to die. This is all I ever wanted, as it turns out this is all I’ll ever need. I ache, pins and needles to retrace the miserable longing of my overconfidence shown as bruised tracks you can follow to figure out my shame. The pain clings to me in dreams that just won’t stop in their quest of haunting me, letting remembrance of better days slip by and become my one final hindrance of finding some better way. But the promise of tomorrow keeps me breathless and wanting more. And they want to know what I would change?

 

Hollow thoughts now reeled off trudging through my clouded mind. My followers and loved one’s are only worthless to the thoughts in my head. The dancing macabre of glorified death with ice filled lashes, batting and hiding behind the ignorance of innocence and romantic trysts. All attention had to be given to their cold, burned faces and the embarrassing blemishes resting wrapped around their pale wrists. They try to hide the scars that hold them all stitched together, all the while never realizing they and we are all failing miserably. Acceptance is hard but I know there is a little beauty in this. Beauty in all of you. Somewhere out there I’m sure. Go find it while you cry out to be heard, to be seen, by a world that moved at a breakneck pace and are stunned to find such a moribund look painted all across my shunned face. But I can’t see it in the dark and these nights are too long to hold on for another opportunity to see it all the way through. Everything falls into a lull of silence, only to be broken when the dry skin breaks as I clench my fists and beat the shit out of the two of you and take back what is and will always rightfully be ours. Our evidence is the proof behind our scars that we wear proudly, even if we are fucking ugly. And all these people care about is what would any of us change if we were able to change any damn thing. 

 

Hilarious. 

 

The trees we planted to leave behind our roots have all grown tired and barren, just like the ill begotten days that don’t waste any time by going to waste. The New Status Quo specialty. You know their recipe, right? No? Why, let me spoil it for you. Be silver plattered the football so you can show the rest of us how to run with it,  but trip over your own feet and blow it because you and your whole weak ass crew are too lackluster to drop any type of blockbuster anybody gives a shit for or can’t hold back the raves about.

 

“Yo, you see that new NSQ joint? Shit was so damn originaI and unique dawg! I ain’t never seen anything like that before!”

 

SAID NO ONE EVER

 

“Just the first example of why DUB FUCKING DUB do it BETTER than YOU and you’re gonna cry because it’s true. And then you’ll cry harder when you find out it’s my fault, that I am the reason it was even possible for y’all to even come in and fucking matter. Cuz Paulie Python and Felony King B Dub can’t be beat when we are together like the dream team Jesus Christ himself had a hand in making the dream a reality. He said to God, “Daddy, make me the world’s greatest tag team, and make sure they are as pure and clean as true world champions should always be. Oh, and daddy, make sure one of them is the most gorgeous man to ever live. With a dick the size of a python. Do whatever with the other one, we can just have him put a mask on.” And then Paulie and I both just fell straight out of our momma’s cunts. And the rest is history. And history is about to be made one more time. Maybe a few more after too. Every word I spit is hailed and sold as the truth. And had I not broken my best friend’s heart and ripped our perfect fucked up Wrecked and Worthless family apart, that gang match goes a little differently. Shhh, quit crying, can’t hide the truth. But that’s okay, because guess what?”

 

DUB DUB SAVES THE DAY.

 

OR NOT.

 

WHATEVER.

 

WE DON’T HAVE TO WIN TO BE BETTER.

 

ALL I KNOW IS EVERYONE WILL HANG FROM EVERY SINGLE ONE OF MY LETTERS AS THEY JUST PROGRESSIVELY TURN OUT BETTER.

 

The shadows of hatred from a diseased culture shrink as the light grows stronger while shining solely on me, casting its warmth with rays of hope and self preservation. I was able to stand alone upon a battlefield with the whole of the world’s enemies bearing down on me, and these cretins were salivating at their easy treat. Or so they thought. But because of those lonely nights staring into the abyss, I am the epitome of the wrong one to ever try and fuck with and not being easily amused so I won’t tolerate any of the potential abuse headed my way. They don’t understand how there can be something that keeps me from slipping, astonished to learn it’s nothing more than three words in my head…

 

Open your eyes.

 

I was lost in the wilderness, surrounded by the surreal wild life that was going about its usual business like I wasn’t even there. Deers and bunnies, foxes and squirrels, all living in perfect harmony in the circle of their lives. This is in stark contrast to the lives and actions of the beasts known as we human beings, who are hellbent on supremacy and cheating the natural order. One need look no further than Fight NYC to see what I am proclaiming here. Perhaps even the entire industry is irrefutable proof that we as a species are nothing more than a virus. But what would I change you ask? 

 

The wildlife was lost deep into their raw instinctual habits, and there I was just lost adrift in the calm of mother nature, feeling her crust beneath my bare feet and in between my toes. The events that led me to here were growing more and more distant as a faded memory, but the gist is that a few days ago now, I believe anyway, that I had fallen under the influence of methamphetamine. I fought hard to come down from that cloud, but the purity of the drug was far stronger than I had led myself to believe. I had only needed me a pick up, something to help with the long hours I have been putting in between House of M, wife and son, the construction around Eulogeo and the war over at Fight.

 

A war that was being fought on different fronts yet I couldn’t help but feel like the battles were all entirely pointless except for the one which I was involved in. The enemy was powerful and united, while we were all scrambled and subjects of our own discontent. Diluted versions of our best selves that they were able to easily pick off one by one in a single fell swoop.

 

“So they serve us the goat and Aiden somebody, whoever the fuck these people may be. Sorry if my ignorance offends you, but y’all still haven’t hit my radar cuz I am so far away. I won’t just dismiss you gentlemen though, by all means, please come out and play. We can then take each other up in arms and tango with our bodies banging from canvas to mat, Brandon is addicted to the sound of limp bodies that go splat. This is the moment where all the build up, or lack thereof, comes to a head and if you ask me, somebody has to end up dead. Or leave on a stretcher with matter leaking out of their head. I’ll volunteer if I have to, because fuck it, what else is a washed up junkie gonna do? It’s not like we have any chance in hell of beating the New Status Quo, oh hell no. Paulie and Brandon B will probably fall in three to the one, two, three. Or maybe it is you guys, this isn’t a prediction. This is just me writing the gospel for the masses to follow along to, so they can try to understand the importance of the situation your bodies are going through. The aim is much higher than simply taking your belts away. You guys are the unfortunate ones stuck hanging around when the bill comes due for all the talking your crew’s mouths do. Always depreciating the ones around you like you’re all untouchable, all infallible, leaving yourselves open for my dirty hand to reach down your throats or shoved up your asses, whatever it takes to make you come around to your senses. Easily beating the DUB DUB and you like your chances I hear, and that is why James brought the weak link. This dummy didn’t even bother to stop and think, not knowing that the two bad boys he’s come up against are about it, and we just love to shout it. Wait, that doesn’t make sense so let me wind this back and tell you a little about me. I am Brandon Moore, homicidal, suicidal, pathological maniac let loose from the chains I allowed myself to be put in to. They told me to play nice and watch my mouth, and I went along with it. Went right on along not realizing that I was handicapping myself and betraying myself. Well, fuck that and fuck your feelings. I hope you’re prepared for the physical abuse that follows my psychological round two. If you would open your hearts and shut your eyes, it could be possible for you to hear the sounds of a silent circus ready to stampede over the top of you. Welcome to my parade of chaos, and we are celebrating the looming darkness that offers a tender whisper. Open your heart. Close your eyes. Accept the Everblack, and let your neck snap. Accept the Everblack, and there is no coming back to any previous fact. Whether your facts are based on a biased opinion or smothered in the truth is entirely up to you. It doesn’t matter either way, because once your fragile little throats are choked from the effects of the sudden impact where your chin connects and pushes your head back. That’s the snap. That’s the sound you unknowingly have been waiting for the entirety of your lives and the moment is finally upon us. Will it be James or will it be Aiden? How about you both just take the leap and accept the Everblack so you can see those bright lights above one last time through the eyes of a champion. And you’re welcome for that, don’t ever say Brandon doesn’t give any of the love back.”

 

I arrived from across seven oceans, seven sins and was so disappointed and disgusted by what I had returned home to that I decided it was nigh time that I drowned the seven billion souls that swim back to the bottom where they fucking belong. Like fiends to the flames, we sink to Sodom because our parallel rivers shall not entwine. Just pay the concrete that encased their feet no mind, and tell Vhodka Black to stay the fuck outta Dawson’s Creek. I would but I became lost in a loop of hope and hell, oil and wine. Tell the others that it is time for their solo run forth to the sea in disharmony. But what about us? The ones who actually ride for the other, are willing to kill the other? We arrive and die together because we are the same flock of feathers. 

 

AND WE ALL BURN TOGETHER

 

NSQ is just a super team of enemies ready to burst at the seams and fail so damn miserably. But at least they have all that blood money you know. That way they can always be important, even if someone poorer is more worth it. More deserving of the chance to reach for their dreams. Me? Well, I cling to my napalm dreams where we breathe in the ether of misery from an Eden that is a garden of pure fire. I closed my eyes and wouldn’t you know it? Eden is a funeral pyre, and I’ve gone a little higher where the sky rips apart with it’s thunderous ego that doesn’t reveal the whole show. Yet, here we are as we live through centuries of storms while in awe at the terrors of the earth. Don’t worry though, we give nothing in return because we always squander all that it was worth. And why do my sins circle like locusts around me searching for a way back in? What in the hell is even under my dry scaley skin but the marrow and meat of self-defeat that eats into this skeleton? Everyone loves you when you’re dead or dying but the earth owes you nothing, just a hole to go die in. The truth might smack into your face.

 

WATCH OUT

THE TRUTH FUCKIN SUCKS

 

And the fears set in that tear a hole right through my chest and send my clutched beating heart through my back, all within an instant and too much of myself gets exposed and it makes me hesitant. This is and has always been the moment where I go at my weakest disposed. When I don’t have to be scared to tell the truth, because what the fuck is truth anyway? If you knew the truth, would YOU change it?

 

“Let me chain you little ones to the weight of a harsh truth so you aren’t afraid when reality crashes against your membranes and sets you free. As free as I’ll ever allow you peasant maggots to be. Don’t worry fellas, you haven’t gone insane and everything has proceeded exactly as He and She have foretold unto me. The Moth and Butterfly opened my eyes to the vision of a perfect future, and everything has followed the beat page after page while your days have only bled together. The cryptic currency that rings my voice makes you question if I am insane, and that is a very real possibility but I must insist on reassuring you that I had no other choice. What was about to transpire was the only path forward that could be a benefit to the entire picture as a whole. Whereas you NSQ pests have sought to become tyrants based solely off boring egos that squash a natural order to the scene’s ebb and flow, the House let’s the tables turn and allow, even encourage, the organic growth of every single last detail that begs for a proper depiction. This is where it all begins, with the return of the Dubya Dubya as we come and take back the belts we never truly lost to begin with. The previous incarnation from which Fight was born had paid us hefty sums of cash to take the dive so they could placate the roster and give them a chance to play fairly. Boys.. there is no pay off here, and we no longer give a fuck about everybody’s feelings. Those belts are coming home where they belong and no amount of money, no levels of discontent, will be able to pry them away ever again. We will provide the opportunities for others to try their luck but the end result from here on out will always be the same. You all will be given a free lesson and allowed to watch how proper champions carry themselves and those belts.”

 

I have always tended to do my best when everything goes wrong. Don’t you know? That’s why sad songs make me happy. I am happy because I finally don’t have to feel alone. Bruised backs of black and blue don’t mean what they used to, these days it’s never about what you’ve done. No, no.. It’s what you’ve done lately. Because honestly.. who the fuck even cares what you’re saying? Especially if no one’s listening. And I get it, this twisted individual laid bare before you may be too much, a little too real. It’s okay to dislike me or even hate me. Fuck, you don’t even have to like me, but you’re gonna fuggin respect me. I, Brandon Moore, that came from nothing, and left to survive on the enemy soil, leave hope in my wake because I have the power to take control and ruin all of your fun in an instance. I wouldn’t change that. No.

 

I got no regrets, but have my days with doubt, and that is what the House of M is all about. The House is open to those left in sadness by the cruel nature of an unfair system which was rigged to be exploited by less talented parasites. The type that are the superior species in other worlds, but came to a new found land. Just like the Pilgrims landing on Plymouth Rock, and coming upon an indigenous people already decimated, lost in numbers and scattered far apart, these parasites invaded the new host. Welcome to the party, cancers. I’ll be the one to lead you out to the pasture.

 

CLICK

 

CLICK

 

BOOM

 

“There is a running theme among you NSQ folks who have gold on their waists and it is that you have no idea what a champion is or how a champion should be. Your crew carries them like props without any respect for the blood and sweat that put any type of prestige any of them may have once had. The belts deserve better than the likes of you, who don’t even wear them proudly. Especially these Island straps. Hidden away as if they were just forgotten about. But now they are being liberated by their proper champions so they can be showcased and worn with honor. These belts are just as important as the Empire, which will hopefully be rescued in the same respect, as they are the symbol of being recognized as the best tag team in the world. There was a time and place when tag team wrestling was at the top of the cards throughout the territories and being the champions meant something. You boys and your crew have done nothing but continue the trend of more of the same and leaving a proud tradition dead. That is where Brandon Moore and Paul Montuori come in. And how pathetic is that? Serioisly.. This is how two pieces of crap like us can shine so brightly and have the world struck by jealousy and wonderment. We are going to do what only the best are able to do and return a stagnant and stale style of professional wrestling back to the top where it belongs. We are going to be the ones that carry the weight of expectation to greater heights never before seen in Fight NYC. And as the world watches, seeing such amazing shit for the first time in a long time, or for the first time ever if they have never seen this be done the way it is supposed to be done, the world will begin to look at the lot of you a little differently. They will see two degenerate low life looking mother fuckers who probably shouldn’t be allowed near your schools and children, excelling and prospering where you all have been floundering and be like, ‘What the fuck?’ because it doesn’t make any damn sense. Why couldn’t this supposed elite crew do what these Wrecked looking Worthless guys make look so fucking easy? And they will demand answers from which you have no response and force you to hang your heads in shame. As you all measly maggots should and be grateful for it all in the same vein. You can apply the wisdom from this lesson in any future endeavors you boys may find yourselves a part of, and look back on this moment with fondness. You’re welcome kings. You’re welcome.”

 

Wave goodbye to the wives and husbands, this bastard regrets the bloodshed. God, if you’re even still there, please only help those who help themselves find a way out of the never ending cycle of repeating yesterday, every day, and forget about everyone else. To my tribe, I plead, when did it become apparent that you all lost your nerve? You missed the point so let’s just move on because you want to know what I would change over the past year? Two years? What about the rest? What would I change if I could change anything at all?

 

Everything.

 

With a can of gas and a handful of matches.

 

Eight hours after Paul Montuori comes to the house.

 

My eyes slowly open but my vision is blurry and there is a ringing in my ear rendering me deaf. I don’t know what my face is laying in, but there’s like some large ass fat bodied mag light or something.

 

“What the fuck..” I quietly whimper as I try pushing myself up to a seated position.

 

“Them old broads sure fucked us up Papi.” Paulie said as my vision cleared and I realized I had been laying face down in the crotch of Paul Montuori.

 

“Paul? What the fuck? Where am I?” I push myself skittish to have my back against the wall. “I didn’t just suck your dick did I? Oh God, Paul, the python wasn’t in my mouth!? OH GOD! WHY!?”

 

“Settle down papi boy, let me look.” Of course this fuck wouldn’t sweat it, it wasn’t my dick in his mouth. He’s checking himself out, looking down the front of the inside of his pants, and grabs his dick. “Oh shit.. B.. it’s sticky..”

 

Oh fuck no. No, no, no.

 

“What the fuck Paulie?” And I lose my shit. I just sucked a homie dick or somethin, how would you react?

 

“What the fuck me? I’m the one that was just victimized by Brandon Moore!” And now he freaks out. Just now. Come on man.

 

“Fuck man! Do I got herpes on my lip now? Is my face going to fall off!?” Fuck, fuck, fuck, fuck, fuck, fuck. Quick, somebody get a scalpel and cut this shit off, stat!

 

“B! B! Calm the fuck down, let’s figure this shit out. Where are we?” Where are we? I stop frantically pacing and look around.

 

Paul reaches up and grabs hold of some chains hanging from the wall. He pulls himself up and starts to walk away before doing a double take. “Yo, what the fuck B? I thought you cold turkeyed this murder shit?” 

 

“Those are for Michelle. We’re in my fucking basement man.” I bolt by him and go for the door at the end of a staircase. “WHY IS THIS FUCKING DOOR LOCKED!?” And I beat on the big wooden bitch. 

 

“B.. why do you have chains in the basement for your wife?” Um.. I just look at him like, come on dude, I might have just sucked your dick and this is what you’re hung up on?

 

“Yano Paul.. My life has been peaceful without you in it. And you’re back half a damn day and I’ve lost time and sucked a dick. Not that there is anything wrong with a man sucking another man’s dick, EXCEPT I DON’T LIKE SUCKING DICK!” Was that too harsh to place the blame solely on him? I didn’t give a shit.

 

“I didn’t even come back for you!” And he cuts me back. He cuts me back deep.

 

“Look, you didn’t suck my dick. I just thought it would be funny. Michelle made me bring you down here when your momma accidently drugged you trying to drug me and she locked us in here to keep me safe. Momma wanted the python papi, she wanted it bad.” Paul finds a chair and sits down, pulling out his phone. “So how are we gonna get outta here?”

 

Sigh.

 

Here we go again.