I Can’t Change My Story, but I’ll do the best I can.

By: Brandon Moore

Writing Prompt: No

Date: 13th Oct 2021

“Dear Shawn,


I write to you in sorrow, as I will not be able to stand mono e mono with you under full strength. Something inside of me is wrong, mentally, physically, who knows. But what I do know is that I will be back, and I will be at full strength. It is painful to say, but I do apologize.


I apologize that I am still going to be beating your head off every surface and canvas. I am oh so sorry that, yes, you will bleed. And hopefully I will bleed too. All I want is to feel anything outside of the love of my two hearts, but outside of that little slot of warmth is this Never Ending pit of hopelessness and despair.


Nothing I do has ever or will ever change that. It demands that my flesh beget more flesh, blood to tarnish my fingertips as if I were Picasso painting some throwaway piece. But Shawn, you are more than a throw away rummage painting. no my friend, you are an agonizing thorn that pests and festers beneath the surface of a scabbed wound that never heals.


You are a plague that needs to be cleansed from this circle and from this profession. Not even that great, but just great enough to hang around at the top where you have mastered pretending where you belong. I snuff out fakes like it is going out of style. If you look into my eyes you will see that I am one of a few who are worthwhile. Worth wasting that money to watch men and women throw each other around an arena. I am worth the establishment being torn the fuck down and rearranged.


And tearing down this fucking tower is exactly what the two of us are going to do. From the first ring of the bell until the very last, we will do this dance until the other just can’t quite hit that two step. And as your body becomes weak, and your knees heavy, MOMS SPAGHETTI!, you will be raised to the heavens in a glorious occasion. And delivered to your fate adrift in the Everblack. The shining lights above your head are a constant reminder of just exactly where you belong, right where you belong.


And my future will come at me at a pace that I just can not contend with. You see Shawn, for all of my talk and actions of supremacy, I am really just a man trying to get by. That is it. Just a simple man trying to get by in this shit hole we call life. But life always has this plan to just beat and beat and fucking beat on me until I am just a broken puddle of mud upon the floor. And I lift my head up just long enough for another boot to come on and shove my damn face back into my mud.


The pressure is building so deep inside that I can barely contain it. Its eating me alive and I just have to get my damn hands on you. Grip you ever so tight and put you to the floor, all galore. If I could change myself, I would Shawn. But I don’t even know where to begin.


My grave is mine to dig.


You will not be the one who puts me there. You will not be the one to knock me off from my high horse. Because I belong here. I have earned it. Earned the right to spit all this bullshit that spews from my filthy mouth. Have you? Have you really? I came from a place of abandonment and scratched and clawed my way all the way to the damn top. Everybody, everywhere, doubted me.


Well doubt me now you piece of shit. Doubt me as I stand above your mangled body. Doubt me as I take your blood money and make my way further towards the prize that is rightfully mine. You can cast your stones, and pass your judgment. But you don’t make me who I am.


The bloody path that lay behind me is what makes Brandon Moore one of the biggest legends to grace this sport. I held no prisoner and gave no quarter. I took and took and never gave back, except for my blood, sweat, and tears. I have given this business my body, and all its ever given me is fame. What the fuck can I do with fame? I don’t want it. All I want is that Empire belt, and you can have all the rest.


If there even is anything left.


Sincerely yours, Brandon.”


So did I ever mention how all of my glory was immediate during my first year in this business? that was 2007. I only wrestled for two years after, before returning three years ago. The decade in between was spent in a constant internal struggle that literally fragmented my mind into two separate entities. A dual personality.


It was during this time that Michelle had followed me, found me after her brother forced me out, and truly ended up falling in love with the one part of me that was a man. The loving, goofy, and charismatic human being that made sure every day was the best day of her life. She noticed the other half, the monster, but by then it was too late. She was hooked. And after she realized where all of our fortune was coming from, she just never again looked at that side of me. She just let it be and enjoyed the man that only she knew. The man that only she got. Everybody else was given the other.


We were together for eight years, strong, and then something happened. To be honest, I don’t really remember what happened, friends. i was so fucked up on heroin and alcohol, and not in the way that you’ll see these losers around here try to be. to pretend to be so people will take them as edgy and dangerous. no, i was in the thick of it. four, five grams of heroin were shot into my veins daily. “no way, you’re lying, you would die!” you may say. and guess what idiots? i have died more times than I can count. and I will prolly die a few more just for good measure you miserable cunts.


I held both my loves in my arms as I sat back on our couch in our home on Eulogeo Island. This is what being at the top means to someone like me. Everything I ever wanted. Everything I ever needed. Right here, in my arms. And my past is lingering in the depths of my mind. I look over to Michelle who is sound asleep. So beautiful, a truly amazing woman, no matter what she may portray to you maggots. She is everything every other woman is just simply not.


I look over to my boy, Ezra, and he too is sound asleep. This boy is the future of everything. The world is in his hands, and I am going to do everything in my power to make it so. I don’t care who I have to hurt, bury or burn to ensure my place is secure at the top. Because the top is where the money is. The money is what will make all of Ezra’s dreams come true. And he will be able to look at his daddy and know that daddy gave it his all, and then some. And he did it all for him. All for little Ezra. And mommy too.


Mommy has done it all too. And she will continue by my side as we continue our quest to take over that top spot of the mountain. It is simply our fate. Manifest destiny. That is the name of my game, and I have become quite adept at being the head of the table. The master of the game. People like Warstein try and play their little games of trick or treat. Slick or thief. But the poor boy doesn’t realize that I am the creator of the very definition of by hook or crook. I am the one who laid the ground work for people like him to trample all over and fuck up.


My past is what made me, and the past is what has given me and mine our future. And I won’t stop until we have it all. I am greedy like that. Because through all of the bullshit, the pain. betrayal and grief, here we are standing tall as a unified front. And we welcome all challengers. And if they want to play some games, then they better be ready to get their asses beat the fuck down. Or worse. It can always get worse folks. None of you know what it truly takes to become self made. To do whatever it takes to take that brass ring and swing around with your dick just flapping in that wind.


I lay my head back, as a fond memory overcomes me.


Details are reportedly scarce, but with an overbearing weight of shame and a regret I feel quite deeply, very fucking deeply in fact, I hereby inform you that Brandon Moore is alright. But it’s not like that matters to any of you particular losers any damn way does it? I laid up in my bed with a cold sweat, a bit of nausea, and an all around feeling of just not feeling good. Or rather, feeling well. It was the fucking opiates. Had to be. Fucking heroin man, it really sucks you down into this ever stretching portal of some sort of shit realm eternal. It is in this realm from which I personally dwell. If you have a moment, quite possibly a few, maybe even more, then grab that chair and take a seat friend.



maybe I got a story to tell?


I was like 9 years old when my mother went blind. That fuckin’ bitch man, really ruined my shit. I mean what nerve man? Going and getting blind to leave your child to wonder the streets of fuggin South City St. Louis alone because you were wrapped up in your own crippling disability? Nah momma you know ya boy is just joshin ya. My mother did the best she could with her particular circumstances, and she never gave up after a lifetime of hell. I guess you could say I am kind of envious of the strength she always exhibited as a human being. Just kidding, her and Uncle Vlad dumped me in this shit hole city, but hooked your boy up with all he would need.. Brandon was just the dumb ass who started injecting methamphetamine at the ripe and tender age of thirteen.



I blasted Oxy 80’s in between


From there I was out skateboarding nightly around the old Bevo Mill area off Gravois in South City, high as all fucking giraffe pussy and overnight guests at the Cosby house, smashing out every which windshield or window in automobile after automobile I came across looking for them valuables. This was called car hoppin’. If you’re gonna follow along then you might as well go and get familiar because I won’t be able to force myself to continue the ever pestilent exposition. This here story ain’t for you anyway. I am just trying to get the hard facts out of the way before that parachute I swallowed opens up and allows that dirty and rotten, no good MIRACLE of a drug play its dastardly sweet notes on my nervous system. Which then proceeds to drive me head strong into an ever cascading sequence of tongue riffs where I spit only that delirious.











I had to load up another rig.


So.. anyway, I eventually learned how to use a flat head screw driver and a brick to pop most any older model vehicle’s door lock and ignition and use that screw driver to start the mother fugga. I didn’t start boosting them just yet. That came a little later. But this was my true beginning, the decision I made in life that set me on the path which ended where you see me standing right the fug now.




ain’t you proud?


At the age of fifteen is when everything fell in line for a paradigm shift. Up became down, left was still left but right would never be considered right ever again. What is right anyway? What is wrong? Subjective opinions that only hold any merit when you allow them to be some type of weight you force yourself to be crushed underneath of. It was a fairly decent night considering it was December, possibly mid December, my memory keeps moving ever further away from me. I mean, drugs, am I right? I had just gotten into this fuggin beautiful and unlocked Ford Mustang but it wasn’t one of those like, regular ass Mustangs, it was a special one. I couldn’t tell you the model or year because I am not a gear head. I remember Damon used to get so pissed when trying to teach me about cars and all that shit. Oh right, for those of you who don’t know, I come from the house of Damon Riggs. You don’t know who Damon Riggs is? Then get the fug outta here, get familiar, then bring your ass back.


Go ahead, I’ll wait..










You good?


Your ass probably didn’t even go do shit.


Shaking my damn head


You ain’t gotta lie to kick it bruh


Just sayin’.


Aright, so I was once a decorated and highly touted protégé of his, much like Dane Preston. But I was excommunicated, I guess you can call it that, but it was more like an exile. “Oh that no good junkie Brandon Moore tarnishing the Damon Riggs brand” blah, blah, blah. 




did ya’ll miss me at least? damn..


But that is another story for another time, that I will officially tell some time.. officially. maybe. unless I already did?


Fuck it.


So.. anyway, I am in this bad ass mustang right? Just scrounging around, seeing what type of valuables ‘n shit that got left out in this mother fugga when I pull down the visor and I shit you not, the fuggin keys fall into my lap. I was like, “OH SHIT SON!”, popped them bitches right on in to the ignition and I went cruising boy. I was hammering that go button all the way down to the floor, just straight getting the damn thang with it. Doing 130 or 140 down I-44 highway, no fucks given what so ever. None. After I had my fun with it, I took it down to my boy’s older brothers house down Texas St. right off of Jefferson Ave. here in South City St. Louey. He was in some gang or another and I knew he had the connections to make this fuggin car disappear and make my pocket a little fatter. Cash, drugs, whatever, I didn’t care. I was fifteen man. I didn’t really know shit about all this crap yet at this point, all I knew was I was going to have me one killer ass night dude. So, yeah, this dude gives me a god damn kilo of methamphetamine. I had never seen that much dope in my entire fuggin life bubba. And you know what I did? Shit.. you know what I did.




go figure, right?


That was when I discovered like, hey yo, fuck just breaking into these vehicles for the crap inside when I can just take the whole damn thing and make a killing with it. So that was what began with me “allegedly” becoming a drug dealer. Wink, wink. But enough of that part. You’ll hear the full story of my rise to prominence in the criminal underworld when I am damn well ready to share. Besides, ya’ll stuck with me now because I am just getting started in this company. Moving along. When I was sixteen was when I witnessed my first murder. Technically it was a double homicide but you get the gist. This was also the first time I had ever seen a dead fuggin body. Dude, that shit was intense, I cannot even begin to describe to you what that first time was like. It was just freaking nuts. This dude owed my guy Dominic like $2300 bucks or some shit, so Dominic, me, and D’s homie Lil James grabbed a couple pumps, jumped in his ’68 white fatty Caddy and went to this dudes house.




house call fugga, we comin’ in


Three of us bust in through this dude’s moms front door man, shotguns in hand, masks on face and this dude sitting in his tightey whiteys on the couch eating fuggin cereal watching some bullshit on the television. His momma was sitting over in a recliner, and had been passed out until that door came flying off the damn frame. Dominic rushed in and drove the stock of the shotgun into this dudes fucking face man. Ah, blood everywhere from his weak ass nose. This old bitch over here was all like, “AHHHHH! MY BABY! DON’T HURT MY BABY!” and Dominic was like, “AY YO B, GET THE WHORE.” So I went over and man, judge me if you want, but I just straight back handed this old broad and put the pump right up to her face telling her to shut the fuck up. Dominic yelled “WHERE MY FUGGIN MONEY AT BITCH!?” as this dude was all quivering n’ shit, like come on bro you’re a man, have some fuckin’ dignity. And this dude through his tears and heavy stuttering breathing was all like, “I ain’t got it.” Dominic didn’t even hesitate, he just straight gave him the business by pumping his chest right on through his back. The dudes mom broke into like the biggest emotional waaahh party. Lil James was like, “Fuck this shit.” and blew the bitches head straight from her neck man. I was covered in blood, brain and skull fragments painted this living room. Oh man, is it sick that I thought it was beautiful? So damn beautiful. For real. But yeah, it was my first time witnessing a murder and seeing a dead body. What do you mean, “What did you do?” What the fuck do you think I did? I fuggin poked at that shit man.




hey Shawn, come clean this off with them lips




That’s just a little taste of what it takes to be at the top.


Can you dig it?