YOUR BODY IS A WONDERLAND (I'LL USE MY HANDS)

NOW My Father who art in wrestling, He slowly winds the white athletic tape out from its coil. Reed be thy Name. Wrapping it around the scars on his wrists. Thy kingdom come. He snaps the roll apart with his teeth. I will get done, Tossing what remains to the side. In PRIME just like Coral Avalon. He closes his eyes. Give me this day my daily reign, Continues to recite. And forgive me my cheating, While his fists tighten and arms shake. As I forgive those who cheated against me. He can’t help but think of what’s brought him here. And lead me not into COOLYMPUS, How he’s going to end it. But deliver me from narcissism. He screams in torture. Amen. — THEN July 26, 2022 Folsom, Louisiana. Population: 793. A couple hours drive from New Orleans is where this small recreation center sits. Counselling isn’t a common practice down south. There’s a non-profit, therapeutic riding center three blocks away. (Ride a horse, save a cowboy.) Regardless, inside this gymnasium, a handful of locals from neighboring communities gather on a weekly basis.

Jonathan-Christopher takes a step back, breathing in the recreation center’s air conditioning through a crack in the back door. He glances inside from across the old dirt road, although he considers not going any further.

Things aren’t so bad. Love is all around. After all, he’s the problem.

But before he returns to his car, his ears pick up a nearby conversation.

A slender man with unkempt brown hair, a goatee and a peculiar overall demeanor converses with a short, younger woman, who currently rubs the dark circles under her eyes. The man’s name is Craig. A Texan, he’s been addicted to meth for over ten years. He seeks validation through substance use because he does not have enough validation in himself to overcome the challenges of life.

However, he is trying.

Jonathan-Christopher moves forward. Hands in his pockets, Hall bears witness to the honest, careful smile of the tiny girl named Dora. She certainly looks the part of a meth addict and yet in other ways he can see past her imperfections. By sheer interpretation of body language, Jonathan-Christopher understands she emerges from a world of regret. He hears, to her delight, she’s been sober for six weeks now and recently found employment at Target. Hall can see hope glisten in her eyes, amidst the dark bags.

He feels for her. He feels for Craig. He thinks he’ll feel for everyone inside.

He isn’t addicted to what they are but he is desperate.

Jonathan-Christopher rubs his wrists. Sometimes he feels them throb. The scars never go away. They are his dark circles, proof of challenges within his own narrative. Marks left by the handcuffs during his residency in the inpatient unit. How often was he restrained?

The harmless looking young man closes his eyes, taking in another whiff of relaxing air conditioning. He sees the group collectively organizing chairs. It’s almost the top of the hour.

‘This is going to help him,’ he thought. ‘It’s going to have to.’

So he marches forward. His ridiculous, comic-book-like unsteady hands waiver over the door handle. But he stares at the scars on his wrists. Furthermore, he feels the scars inside his mind. The years of poor partnership, the absolute nightmare of his youth.

Here goes nothing.

He slips through the open door, as the blistering heat hammers down on the empty, desolate road behind him.

…Except the road isn’t completely empty. There’s a dainty little figure way off in the distance, remaining motionless, as if not to give away its location.

The figure’s icy cold glare shoots metaphorical bullets through the complex. Unwavering. Uncompromising. Unrelenting.

Time passes; the session begins.

“My name is Craig and I am addicted to meth…”

“Hi, Craig.”

However, the eerie silhouette is too far away to hear. Then again, this entity already has the required information, it’s only until mid-way through the session when the figure slithers into thin air.

But not before adjusting her pretty pink dress. — — — — — YOUR BODY IS A WONDERLAND (Part 1) A true love story An honest friendship ♫ Da-da-da, da da da-da ♫ — — — — — Present Day Jonathan-Christopher quietly reflects on the edge of his hotel bed. A bed used to signify the most precious location in the world. It’s where he and his Amazing Life Partner would do everything to cement their relationship. Talk, cuddle, map out their days. Plus the obvious physical aspects. Now, however, Jonathan-Christopher rests on the edge, trying to make sense of years past.

On this very morning, JCH hears sobbing from the bathroom, so he refocuses his energy elsewhere - to his roommate, his traveling partner, shacked up inside the same space. Yes, they’ve been sharing a bed to save money. No, they don’t frequently cuddle.

The Universal Champion rises and slowly walks towards the entrance. The door is wide open, as Hall pokes his head through. Reed Young lays in the tub, sporting a pair of twenty-year-old “Action! Wrestling” boxers, while the rest of his naked body is covered in the Universal Title.

“Dad?” Jonathan-Christopher cautiously asks, not wanting to startle his father-in-law. “Is everything alright?”

The truth is JCH knows everything is not. Reed has been reeling since Coral Avalon declined stepping back from the title shot. It wasn’t even like Reed told “The Crownless King” he couldn’t compete for the gold after Jonathan-Christopher’s reign. All Young advocated for was a little bit of respect - don’t wrestle for the strap right now. Let Young have those 15 minutes.

Reed merely itches his neck, only to have his free hand immediately go back to grasping the belt, as if another person was hovering right over top of him, ready, willing and able to snatch it from his clutches.

“I’m sorry Coral said no,” the fresh-faced boy encourages, “but he called himself a narcissist.”

The former wrestling promoter nods ever-so-slightly. Young is typically full of such energy and gusto. Never has a sentence left Reed’s mouth where it didn’t sound like a thousand exclamation marks were behind it. But since the contract signing… Reed has presented differently.

Breakable.

“Son,” Young finally begins, inviting Jonathan-Christopher into the room as he tiptoes over and sits on the tile floor. “Initially, Cor’ was always so selfless. When he wrestled for me, he was a kind, go-with-the-flow kid. The old Avalon reminds me of… you.”

Young stares into the ceiling as he huffs and puffs in sadness.

“This wrestling world is consuming. Listening to Cor’ speak, to justify his actions because ‘time is running out’. Time is only running out because he is a liar. Brandon Youngblood is living proof time doesn’t have to expire. Dusk. Phil Atkins. Our man, Ivan Stanislav. Time is a construct and we are prisoners to its smoke and mirrors.”

Reed hugs the Universal Title.

“Cor’ uses time as an excuse to be narcissistic,” Reed’s eyes wander aimlessly around the ceiling. “Thank god you haven’t let this industry consume you, yet.”

Jonathan-Christopher doesn’t see tears fall from Young’s eyes, despite the fact Reed is making weeping sounds. Nevertheless, JCH grabs Young’s right shoulder.

“But dad, what if…”

Seeing the man who’s been supportive, who helped pick JCH up and molded him into THE champion of the wrestling industry, well… Jonathan-Christopher grits his teeth and squeeze Young’s shoulder tight.

“...What if I want to be consumed by this industry, too?”

The sobbing noises subside. Young lowers his gaze down into the soul of his most precious son-in-law.

“My child,” Reed conveys a more controlled tone than before. “You would do that? You may not resemble your former self. Take any veteran member of this roster and look at them during their youthful years. None of them are the same-”

“Coral wronged you,” Hall interjects, as Jonathan-Christopher’s body starts to shake with an off-kilter sense of injustice. “I need to channel things differently as the champion. If we’re going to keep this belt, I should evolve.”

Hall releases his left hand from Reed’s shoulder. Without trying, the champ’s nails dug into the surface of his father’s skin, limiting the bloodstream and leaving a significant purple bruise.

Young actually lets go of the belt, as he tries to regain feeling. Meanwhile, JCH makes an exit.

“We’ll get started soon, my boy! I might take the old Action! Bantam Title out of retirement and crown you the new champion so Cor’ can’t have the longest reign anymore! Who knows what ideas I’ll think of! Yes, the sky’s the limit; wrestling is life, indeed!” Young bellows out of the bathroom with newfound excitement, only to mumble the rest to himself. “She is going to be so very, very pleased.”

And for the first time in four weeks, Reed smiles. — — — — — Can you hear me, Coral? It’s me, Jonathan-Christopher.

I tried giving you the benefit of the doubt. During our contract signing, you were disrespectful to me but most importantly, you were disrespectful to my father.

A week ago dad told me I received a patented Coral Avalon protagonist speech. Do you really believe in this Crownless King dribble? I’m sure there are men and women out there who think they don’t need marriage or a relationship to be complete but the reality is that’s the story they have to tell themselves.

The story you tell yourself is also based on lies. No crown to be king?

Brother, that’s not how this works.

You are no hero; you deserve no following. My father is the reason you have a kingdom of fans who bathe in your lies to begin with.

And you stabbed him in the back.

HE GAVE YOU LIFE.

It’s amazing how we try to hurt the people who love us. Why piss off strangers when they have no significant ties to our story. Come after family.

You know you’re not better than the belts we are fighting for, or else you wouldn’t have accepted the boss’ offer to begin with. Funny how the story changes after you’re handed the opportunity. Now it’s The Crownless King Who’s Apparently Running Out of Time.

Those narratives don’t sync, it’s got to be one or the other. Admit your alias is a bullshit act for sympathy or accept you’re a pathetic, self-righteous prick.

Better than a world title?

And they boo me out of the building.

My dad says you always find out who people really are when they don’t get what they want. It’s easy to say you’re above the world title when you haven’t earned the opportunities.

On June 29th, I’m going to obliterate your story. You will have to seek your own forms of therapy because every single wrestling fan will look at you and say “there’s a reason he was never world champion.”

It is you, not me.

Things I used to tell myself: I am not good enough. I don’t deserve this. I will never be successful.

I am better than nobody.

Look where that’s got me. I accomplished a world championship two years into my existence. My latest feather is watching Mr. Fuck Around, Find Out eat his own moniker.

And due to my marital disposition, I have so much novel anger and resentment percolating. My father says these are the foundational building blocks for success inside the squared circle.

My hands. My damaged hands are going to pound away at your arrogant flesh until there’s nothing left to resemble. You are the first to feel the wrath of a merciless Jonathan-Christopher Hall, the prophet of Reed Young.

Say your prayers, Coral; your story is finished. You are nothing more or less than the achievements you have accumulated. After our match, I’ll have beaten the narcissism right out of you, leaving you the veracious version of yourself.

A worthless, false prophet.

Nothing more than an insecure, self-proclaimed martyr. — — — — — “Tehe.”

Real Results. Population: 6. The local gym outside the Vegas Strip opens its doors every morning at 5am. The early crowd is small but they are typically hungry and this morning lives up to its billing. Jonathan-Christopher and his workout partner are at it again. Dan Celetti is a good man and a “bro” kind of dude. Always in Hall’s corner, he provides the type of energy a guy going through a marital rough patch would greatly appreciate. Hall is quiet - Celetti is loud. Jonathan-Christopher battles pessimism, Dan wouldn’t know the definition.

During today’s session, JC doesn’t require Dan’s motivation. They’ve been here for an hour and Hall is on fire. He’s hardly taken breaks, lifted two/three weight classes higher than normal and crushed it without a tear or negative comment in sight.

“Confidence, bro,” Celetti exclaims as he witnesses JCH finishing his reps -ten more than they agreed to- on the bench press. “Holy shit!”

Hall places the barbell on the stand before sitting up.

“Your dad sure has you inspired!” Celetti slaps him on the back.

“He’s hurting,” Jonathan-Christopher replies with intensity. Celetti dabbles in PRIME programming, so he’s familiar with the characters at play. “He’s helped me a lot. I need to do the same.”

Can’t argue with the results, Celetti reassures.

“Tehe.”

“I just-” Jonathan-Christopher starts, as he hops off the bench and adds more weights to the barbell. “It’s nice to know what love and support feels like.”

Dan nods as he leans down and digs into his ugly purple backpack, searching for his water bottle.

“Tehe.”

Hall stretches his arms forward. Dan can see there are a number of positive emotions radiating off him. Strength, confidence, testosterone.

“Tehe.”

“I’ve always felt like my father chose me for a reason and now I understand,” Hall continues. “He saw potential and nourished it.”

“Tehe.”

Celetti zips his bag but raises a skeptical eyebrow.

“Tehe.”

There it is again. JCH hears it, too.

Both men shrug. Hall repositions himself on the bench for another set.

“I’ve always told you, Johnny-boy,” Dan walks behind the barbell. “If you were a shit wrestler, you’d be pinned in the opening stages of every match-”

“Tehe.”

Hall doesn’t start lifting because his spotter is preoccupied.

“Tehe.”

The location of the noise is coming from the nearby elliptical.

“Tehe.”

Dan sees a tiny face poke out from behind it, only to vanish milliseconds after.

“Ummm, better get those sets in, bro. I’m ready,” Dan confirms, attempting to change course.

But as Celetti looks down, he sees his workout partner’s attention diverted.

“Tehe.”

This time, the figure pops out from behind the Stairmaster.

“Tehe.” Not to be confused with “he̵̛͋h”, yet perhaps just as terrifying.

Celetti sees Hall’s complexion morph to a ghostly white, as if a metaphoric vacuum digs into Jonathan-Christopher’s insides and immediately sucks up every last good emotion.

It took forever to get here.

“Tehe.”

She emerges, announcing herself completely.

“Hey you.”

JCH shakes as she skips blissfully towards them.

“Tehe.”

And all Dan Celetti does is mumble under his breath.

“Oh hell no.” — — — — — Rather Long Epilogue Nothing major ever happens during this part of the story, it’s a neat little PRETTY PINK© bow. Tonight, Jonathan-Christopher rests inside the Hall’s Vegas penthouse, much more collected than he originally thought. Sure, their unit was previously torn apart in a furious rage over five weeks ago. Jonathan-Christopher’s father-in-law watched as Hall smashed his wedding pictures, ripped Vickie’s cosplay outfits and unleashed unspeakable damage.

The current scene? The bedroom is still a mess. Shattered glass everywhere, black spots of dried up blood throughout the carpet. After the breakdown, the two of them didn’t have time to clean. Reed slowly walked Jonathan-Christopher out of their suite, onto an overnight flight and straight into France.

So she went back home with him, Vickie that is. Upon interjecting herself into Jonathan-Christopher’s workout session, Vickie and her Amazing Life Partner took a trip to their penthouse only to converse further. Hall was ready to puke as he told her she won’t believe the state of their address. When she entered…

She didn’t seem to care?

Exactly.

She… understood Jonathan-Christopher had anger. He needed to let it out.

It was therapeutic.

Vickie and Jonathan-Christopher communicated. They sat on opposite ends of the ripped apart mattress, Vickie literally sitting in a pool of her husband’s dried up blood. No fucks given if it got on her amazing little number, she had plenty of PRETTY PINK© skirts in the closet-

Oh wait, those were destroyed, as well.

Meh.

They talked for hours. She even allowed him to speak. She sat there and listened to the mental torment he put himself through. How everything he tried to do, he did for her. He won the Universal Championship. He reached the peak of the mountain. He achieved her Little Girl Dream and she was…

Gone.

She cried, Vickie did. They poured their hearts out. Vickie says there will always be a connection between the two of them - they have a trauma bond. They laughed. They cried some more. It was a tell-all discovery.

Jonathan-Christopher sits alone at the edge of the bed, his favorite spot to ponder. Vickie said she didn’t want to push things. Yes, she’s hopeful their marriage will get back on track and yes, she loves her ALP very much. But out of respect to everything that’s happened, she’s staying overnight at the MGM Grand.

Hall peers into the armageddon. He sees the remaining ESPN cameras at the far end of their bedroom and the one camera in particular JCH smashed before finally calling it quits on his meltdown.

Jonathan-Christopher walks towards it, carefully kneeling down but never allowing his knees to completely touch the floor. Placing his right hand on the camera, he lifts the property of ESPN up through the chaos. He examines the camera as he returns to the foot of his bed. He smashed it alright, he smashed it up, good.

Thankfully, the Entertainment and Sports Programming Network has their documentary already in post-production.

Not on purpose, but by simply looking, the viewfinder pops open and reveals itself as the only part of the camera that didn’t take damage. Out of curiosity, Hall presses the power button, never expecting it to go anywhere.

…But there’s a sliver of juice left inside.

JC hits play on the viewfinder.

It works!

The display opens to a scene Hall recognizes right off the bat.

December 1st, 2023, ReVival 40, Memphis.

Almasy Tournament, fourth round, vs. Jared Sykes.

It feels like yesterday.

Promo. Friends and family. Darin Zion, Tristan-Crispin, the love of his life and the ESPN crew all nestled in close.

“You wish you could have this, Jared. But you can’t,” Jonathan-Christopher remarks with such confidence.

Vickie mouths the word “narcissist” as the JCH in real time sheds a tiny, happy tear, watching them work in unison.

“And now I am going to do it,” ReVival 40 Hall cries. “I am going to FINISH THE STOR-”

Vickie cuts him off with a, “honey, we should get to the ring, okay?”

She whispers in his ear and he nods profusely. Watching from the mattress, Hall trembles in joy. The sheer love they had for each other, knowing he was successful that night.

How could he be so foolish? Vickie has only wanted what’s best. She’s pushed? Yes, of course. Sometimes, maybe too far. But she loves him very much.

And they do have that trauma bond!

“ROT IN HELL, JARED!” JCH screams at the end of the interview.

He grins.

She grins.

All is good.

In real time, Jonathan-Christopher stands, a course of strong emotions flowing throughout his body. No longer driven by rage, he finally pieces it together. Mistakes have happened on both ends. If Vickie is truly willing to work on rebuilding what they once had, nothing can stop them! Jonathan-Christopher won the Universal Championship a broken man. Think what they can do when-

When-

When-

“And see you-you-you- ooOOouUuTtTTTtttttt ThErEEEEE EEEeeeeeEEEeeeeEEeEEEEEEE--” The footage is disjointed and scrambled. A wash of greens and blacks and reds and whites, the end of Jonathan-Christopher’s interview has been damaged.

Wait a second.

…

New footage.

It’s blurry. It’s pretty dark but there’s a fight going on.

A fight, in this very bedroom? Why is there fighting in their bedroom!? Vickie and Jonathan-Christopher never got violent with each other-

“Ahhh!” Vickie’s voice is certain.

“Ohhh yes!” But this other male voice… it’s not Jonathan-Christopher’s.

There’s no fighting.

“Ahhahahah!” Vickie giggles with a delightful cry.

“Ohhh, Vickie!” The voice isn’t clear, the audio is severely muffled.

“Ahhhh!”

“Ohhhh!!”

Jonathan-Christopher’s eyes shoot open. His world is spinning, he’s feeling faint.

“Yes!”

Heavy movement from the bedsheets as Vickie screams.

“YES!”

Arms and legs dangling everywhere.

“YES!”

The footage is still scrambly but it looks like the human body isn’t meant to bend that way.

“YESSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSS!”

Hold on a second. Blonde hair. Is that him!?