Bingo

There’s this odd thing about being a submission expert. Sure, you can be a knockout artist, you can hit the big power moves, you can try and render your opponent groggy until you hear that sweet count of three. I get it, I’ve been there many times myself and the feeling is pure ambrosia, the nectar of the gods. My heart has gone so sky high in the past when I’ve heard that third rewarding slap from whatever zebra was assigned to make sure I didn’t get myself too on the too crazy side of things.

Yet, as much as the reward comes, it just doesn’t feel like you’re in control.

Submissions, that’s what you can control.

In the world of submission wrestling you don’t sit and wait and hope and dream that you’ve finally done enough damage to avoid the rogue roll of the shoulder, nay, you intensify the force and feeling until the opponent that is now bound to your will realises that there is no other option than to submit to you.

Pinfall victories are a blunt object, submissions demonstrate finesse.

So it makes me wonder, Daytona, how did it feel with your big time balloon boy body when you stood on the outside and suddenly realised that I held the fate of Anna Daniels wrestling future in my very hands? How did it feel when you heard her scream in pain, in agony, when there was nowhere left to go? See, that’s the weight of the crowd when you become the leader of others. Their pain is your pain, their losses are their losses, their agony is their agony.

And I was making sure that Anna Daniels experienced a lot of agony.

You may wonder why…

Actually I know how the Whoresmen work, you probably weren’t wondering at all.

Perfectly frictionless brain.

Yet, when you were outside of the ring, with Anna in my hands, I just thought about how different it could all have been. I looked at the very hand I now had wrapped tightly around my arms and all I could picture was that same hand giving me a custom knit scarf. A proof of dedicated human endeavour. Something I never forgot.

Perhaps, perchance, permaybe if I didn’t have that wonderful memory, you would be walking the long journey to the ring with a crown of thorns, the burden of resurrection and vengeance on your mind. You could want to destroy me for what I did to one of your number.

One of your Whoresmen.

But that scarf.

That scarf kept her safe.

And that memory reminded me of why I was chasing after this match in the first place.

Surely, Daytona, you didn’t think this battle was purely about jacuzzi access.

Tell me you didn’t believe that.

You didn’t.

Right?

—

The weight of being a leader is a weary weight. You can never predict when you’ll be needed. Karaoke nights, Jolf tournaments, dumpster excavations… you could miss them. You could ignore them, you don’t need to be there, there’s other people who will do the heavy lifting for you.

Yet, with Phil not having hope of seeing a ring again, Glue is yours.

I’ve seen so many of PRIME try to bear the same weight that I do, so many who have tried to lead their forces to victory, to become the dominant force in the company. 

It’s really quaint, that burden, because they all believe they can carry it.

They have no idea of what has been going on.

It has been in front of all their faces, but I guess it wasn’t obvious enough to see.

Maybe it’s time Daytona, maybe it’s time I was clean with you about this match. The WHY of this match, how it could come to be. The question you didn’t dare ask yourself.

It’s not about Anna, it’s not about corrupting a good Glue recruit into the world of the absurd and nihilistic. If it was only that, you would have heard that sweet and delicious snap of a Cecilworth hold at ReVival 74.

No, something much bigger is going on.

And you’re the final piece.

—

I closed my eyes, and the next thing, I felt fully awake but in a situation that could not possibly be. I was floating in space, the inky blackness cut through by the bright stars across the galaxy. Perhaps I’d finally reached the void, the darkest pit of humanity imaginable. I didn’t know how I’d got to where I was, but I did know that my surroundings were damp. There was a lot of moisture going across my body and I was uncertain how I’d managed to even absorb the sweet sweet wetness that I currently found myself in.

The curious thing was the wetness was bubbling too.

Like perhaps I’d found myself in some form of Space Jacuzzi.

Space Jacuzzi? That’s patently absurd. No one on Earth could know or unlock the secrets of the Space Jacuzzi.

Yet in the here and now, I was certain of it. I was floating in a Space Jacuzzi across the galaxy.

What had brought me where, the why of what brought me here, those were the questions I had racing across my mind.

Questions that I did not have much time to answer, as I bobbed and flowed in space, I suddenly heard this banging jam. I believe it had been in some video game before, with the name of “Hell March”. I think the people of Japan heard it too, to little interest because they loved me very much more.

This pounding music, it really ruined the immaculate vibes of space and my jacuzzi could sense it. It’s a “Thinkin’ Jacuzzi” after all, it is going to pair with your brain mind or you’ll get your money back, guaranteed.

That’s when I looked to the horizon, and I saw it. Out there, in the darkness of space, a pain of suspenders were floating, bopping around in the galaxy with a menacing aura. I found the whole situation amusing until the suspenders fired a rocket right towards my beautiful spacuzzi.

Evasive manoeuvres were right, and no matter how much wet I lost, I knew I had made the right decision.

It was then I looked down to the flashing red button below me, just begging to be pressed, as if promising me that it could keep me safe. I slammed that thing as hard as I could, as I continued to bop in the wet of the galaxy tub, and what came out surprised me.

A bombardment of jolf clubs.

Surprising and yet expected, the clubs launched themselves towards the floating space suspenders. If anthropomorphic suspenders, if suspenders were animals and could talk, they’d likely have been screaming as the bombardment of jolf clubs slammed against the suspenders, over and over again. They began to flash red. The suspenders moved back and forth, furiously trying to fire more missiles at my sweet tub, but my rad evasion moves were just too much for it.

That and the rad jolf clubs that kept slamming into the Spacesenders and got it flashing more and more red.

After a few more seconds of dodging, I saw a bright eruption to know that the Wonderful World of Jolf had done their job and the attacking suspenders were finally erased from the universe.

That’s when I looked down at my sweet tub and saw a quarter of it flashing. No longer a bright white, this corner of the tub had turned red. As the bubble jets turned out, tiny hammers and sickles were irritated into the broth of humanity I was now absorbed in.

The corner felt solid, like I’d just slotted in the first piece of the puzzle.

—

Do you see what is happening Daytona, can you see what’s happening?

Did you for a single second wonder why I plunked myself in your “thinkin’ tub” and dared you to do something about it?

Did you think for a single second and ask yourself why I did that?

Why you?

Why Daytona?

Why Anna?

—

This Spacuzzi is something else, it has a mind of its own, it knows the battles that I want to fight before even I do. It is somehow me, and I am somehow the spacuzzi.

The Suspenders fell, I was rewarded with great riches. These richies though, they could only continue to roll in if I was smart enough to honour what the spacuzzi needed of me, it ensured that I would fight the battles it wanted me to fight. It wanted to be alone in this universe, the conqueror of all.

That’s when this bright green mask erupted. If space had ground, you’d have seen this mask rupture out of the magma of the earth.

The rocking and rolling and Barbara Ann shuddered the sweet space moist spot, as I slowly came closer and closer to the face, or faceless of what stood before me.

The mask, the big green space mask, for a while, it rambled about a Taco Bell Meal deal that I wasn’t all that interested in. It was something about how all the big stars like Coral Avalon would eat this meal deal, but it was not the deal for me if I’m honest with you, universe.

Then the mask said something about wanting to defend a title and my spacuzzi took that personally and started to vibrate furiously, which is a problem you often run into when you are the sole owner of a space tub.

It was clear that the big wet of space did not gel with the floating mask and that’s when I saw this new button on the control panel. It was shaped like a giant nuke.

Now, I’m the curious sort, so I slammed that button so hard that I almost fell into the empty void of space, but it’s okay, I stayed in the big wet.

The nukes slammed into the giant mask.

The last gasp I heard was “SUBSCRIBE TO MY NEWSLETTER”

Which was weird because I don’t think a single human has subscribed to a newsletter in the last ten years.

As the mask felt apart, material by material, a new flashing quarter of the tub lit up.

This time, white bread and hot dogs were cooking under the jets, looking to be fired up by someone.

—

Surely by now, you see what is happening, I feel like I’m making it obvious. Hell, I’m embarrassed because I think I’m being a little too obvious. 

I mean, to be honest, I wasn’t that cool soaking in a tub that had hot dogs floating in one foreigner and hammers in another, but that’s just the sort of life you have to live as champion of the Universe, as well as the defender of the aforementioned.

Yes, Daytona, you heard me. 

Defender.

This has gotta make sense now, right? It has to.

—

There was one part of the universe I always wanted to avoid. It didn’t matter if I had the power and heart of the spacuzzi, there were just some parts of town you didn’t want to roam in. Places where there was a mutual agreement that I’d stay out of their business.

A self policing part of the universe. A place where they’d make sure any law breaking citizens of their pocket were sent to the gallows.

I had been to this universe before and was bonked in the head by the force of an auctioneer's mallet. It was a dangerous place for me, some place that I didn’t dare to face. The spacuzzi wanted the fight, I didn’t.

I feared the fight. I didn’t feel ready for the fight. I wasn’t ready, my heart was broken once. It was time for a ceasefire, to ensure that cold relationships could be thawed.

Yet those angry bubbles, the bubbles, as if yelling at me in a Scottish accent assured me that this was the sector of the galaxy we required to be next. That the location was right for fighting.

They told me that I needed to brush myself off and ready myself for the next monster of the galaxy.

A virtual Spaceship Titanic stood before me, and I was terrified that I would have to battle the whole thing. Yet, there was a slight piece of relief when a giant pair of sunglasses (perhaps t-shades) stood before me. There was something about looking at those shades that filled me with regret, with disappointment, with hoping of a different universe.

Yet, there I floated, the giant t-shades in one half of the galaxy, me and the spacuzzi in the other.

My memory was a bit fuzzy of this battle, it threw me off. There was a bit of self-suffering in the mix.

All I knew that the spacuzzi hungered for another quarter, another part of the mix.

I was starting to question the spacuzzi’s desires, considering I was now trying to chill in the deep space, with vibrating hot dogs in one quarter of my wet think space, and rotating hammers in the other. It was becoming less of a chill space in all honesty. Yet, I wasn’t one to question the wisdom of the interdimensional guide that had brought me to where I was today.

As I admired myself in the reflection of the giant spaces that stood afore me, I noticed a moonlight strike across the edge of the glasses, creating a brilliant white light. It was then when I saw what was causing the giant darkness of the shades.

Roaches.

Millions and millions of roaches.

Writhing together in the shapes of t-shapes. Enough to make any human vomit if they dared to imagine the very thought, I’d guess.

Not me though, I’m made of the harder stuff.

No, not liquor.

British repression, which insists we be big brave boys no matter the universal horror that stands before you.

The spacuzzi shifted constantly left and right, pure evasive manoeuvres, dodging every single space roach that crawled in our direction from the hive of the t-shades.  I knew the old girl was doing her best to protect me, but over and over again I had to smash the roaches crawling upon my skin, trying to create wounds that would not heal. I didn’t let them though, I didn’t let them drag me down.

That’s when I looked down at the third button on the console, one I’d never noticed before. One that said simply “spray”.

The next thing I knew, the spacuzzi was firing a white gas, and the t-shades grew smaller.

And smaller.

And smaller.

And smaller.

Until none remained.

That’s when I looked down and saw the third corner of the spacuzzi light up in a brilliant, yolky yellow. Bundt cakes floated in the section, breaking apart and meeting with the dogs, in a version of corn dogs that I would definitely not recommend.

—

So fell the third representation.

Another Head of Family brought down by my hand. Another score settled.

All was becoming Glue, was it not. If not, it was becoming glue-adjacent.

Yet there was just one force that didn’t want to compromise or submit. They didn’t want to bend to the will of the greater good. The necessary. The required.

It was hard to engage with this force though, as I’m not the sort of guy who spends his time in the public bathrooms of the arenas of PRIMEs show.

I have little interest in Sketti Buckets but I do wish Ms. Buckets the best in her constant battles.

No, there was some way I knew to get the attention to the final scalp I needed. 

The scalp that would allow me to shout a key word from the rooftops. 

It was time to take the ultimate soak.

—

The spacuzzi had one more fight in her… him… them. You know that was very disrespectful of me to not even ask.

But I could sense the spacuzzi was feeling the weight of the battles. The suspenders, the mask, the glasses, it would be too much for one innocent tub.

I believed in spacuzzi, and spacuzzi believed in me. That’s all I knew. I knew deep down that we had this final battle in us. We’d come so far. We’d absorbed the hammers, the dogs, the omelettes. This tub was cooking up an inedible storm.

I had taken my place in the final quadrant, hoping not to become a human cake or have my toesy woesys hit by hammers.

This piece of mana would complete the PRIME quadforce, the signifier of the defeat of all the evils of PRIMEs.

Yes, weirdly the spacuzziverse considered Nobody’s Heroes as an evil.

As the spacuzzi cruised the skettiverse, it dodged manyabucket, it was locked, ready and loaded to face what awaited it.

I was there with it, ready to press whatever wonderful red flashing button it presented to me. I love pressing big red buttons, so it’s a true joy.

After surviving the witches hair, me and the precious ‘cuzi arrived

I knew we were in the right place when I saw two giant arms, one with an anchor tattooed on it.

Some real Popeye bullshit.

And I was all out of spinach.

—

Sometimes you gotta make your own luck.

Sometimes you have to create your own battles.

When you walked into that Whoresmen Clubhouse and saw me floating in your tub, that shouldn’t have present questions, that should have presented terror.

You should have started to ask yourself when the Grim Reaper was finally knocking on your door, with a giant smile on his face. 

You’re not that kinda guy though, are you Daytona. Too busy injectin’, too busy rootin’ tootin’ your way to another misremembered name.

Why would the Universal Champion be happy to fight you over access to your jacuzzi?

I can’t believe you thought this match was about access to a bubbly wet wonderland. Daytona, you’re not that gullible, surely, I just can’t believe it.

Cecilworth Farthington has been lobbing off the dense skulls of every stable figurehead in PRIME. That’s been my entire Universal Title run, that has been my Universal Mission. To eradicate PRIME of the cults, the scams, the leaders of the wayward.

Ivan.

TAL.

Jiles.

I guess you were gone when the Whoresmen and the Red Army comforted each other in their failures. So it’s not really your fault that you're the last snake I have to lop the head off of. Maybe if you’d stayed away, maybe if your “hot tub” had stayed attached to whatever trailer you stayed at while you roided up, I’d have been coming from Fred Dick. That didn’t feel right though, it never feels right while you know the true figurehead. 

Daytona, you’re the final Gym Leader.

I’ve been collecting the scalps of stables, I have been ushering in a brilliant new era of Glue. An era where we control the Universal Title, an era where we control the Almasy, an era that truly sees out Phil Atken’s vision and makes everything truly Glue.

Vae Victis already see it like us, they understand, they get us. Me and Clay proved that at ReVival 74.

I want a better world for people like Anna Daniels, someone who was walking on the right path until she saw the nihilistic world of the Whoresmen, who assured her that her erroneous world view was correct. 

I could have been that guiding hand, I could have been that voice of an angel. I let PRIME become infested instead because I was too worried about Max Kael trying to kill me. 

The minute that Universal Title was strapped around my waist though, something changed, something snapped in me, Mr. Diamonds. 

I have the weight of the universe upon me, Daytona. A weight I can carry, a weight I do not believe you could ever comprehend. 

Mr. Atken tried to usher in a glorious new era of PRIME when he cut short four years ago. 

FLAMBERGE tried to carry the flag, but he crumbled upon the pressure. Still, he’s making good now, bless him. 

I’m one win away from enabling his vision.

And getting a jacuzzi. 

I think people have started to delude themselves with the name of our next show. They see “Ascension” and think it’s time for the new flesh to rise to top. People like Daytona convince themselves that the name is there for the Whoresmen to rise to the throne. For Daytona to rise. For Daytona to rule. 

Ascension is actually the end. 

Two nights in a row, Glue victorious.

Two nights in a row, Glue rises in stature.

Two nights in a row, Glue crushes what stand before them.

We ascend together and from the top of the mountain, we observe our fallen foes, with only one word in mind.

Bingo.