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JimCaedus · (02-19-2017)

::Both Shawn Bankston and Dusty Evanson had been close friends to my face but had hated me behind my back since I'd bulked up the last half of my junior year, after joining my first promotion, then swollen to super sexy over the summer. Later it became apparent that in their opinions I was already detestable as a child actor who pulled high school pussy since late sophomore year. In their eyes it wasn't fair I was, for four years, first chair and soloist alto sax in both the Marching and Jazz bands (even worse, just a band member to begin with) who was not only accepted by every clique on campus but got invited to the varsity football team parties after each game. For Shawn and Dusty, it was bullshit I excelled in my classes, maintaining a 3.6 gpa average while tackling AP courses, and it sickened them further that I'd still "gone out with" some of the most sought after chicks at Mayfair. They hated that I was an athlete, a nerd, a cool kid, a bad boy and a boy toy all rolled into one. They hated me because I had a finger in every pie and somehow managed to wrestle away the biggest slice every time. Still, I'm sure now they also hated that I was humble and not arrogant about any of it because I never expected to be great or even the best at anything. All I did was put my all into everything I attempted. All I did was try to experience as much as I possibly could while I could. I just happened to have been given many opportunities. I couldn't help discovering I could accomplish most things I put my mind to...but Shawn and Dusty, they hated me for it. They. Fucking. Hated. Me.

I think back regularly to the closing of the school year senior assembly that had just taken place, how Ms. Ryder had made me the star, had had the Jazz Band play David Sanborn's "Bang Bang" in _cut time_ and how I'd NAILED the fucking alto solo halfway through and earned an actual honest-to-God standing ovation from my senior class mates. I remember not being able to wipe the smile from my face. I remember not only feeling appreciated but on top of the world. I remember feeling loved and wanted. I remember...

I remember returning to the band room, all but Dusty and Shawn clapping me on the back, trying their damndest to swell my head up thrice it's size. I recall seeing my girlfriend Heather Harris (our second attempt at a solid "relationship" since we'd exchanged virginity and broken up by the end of sophomore year) take a seat only to be flanked on either side by Dusty and Shawn. Dusty was whispering in her ear.

It had occured to me that he was again trying to get under Heather's skin; he'd been into her, as a fellow underclassmen, for as long as I'd known the both of them. He'd hated that she fucked me. He hated she was fucking me again. However, as far as I believed, he and I were _still_ friends. I'd never blamed him for wanting her, that's just how things work out sometimes. I'd never given him but a single warning, and passively at that, to please stop taking shots at Heather. If we broke up he was more than welcome to try but while we were together and since we were brothers, it was only right to leave it alone. This would be the third time I'd caught him speaking to my girlfriend privately after my warning. I'd warned Heather _twice_, again passively, not to let him start any trouble between the two of us or our relationship. Now I was getting fed up.

Of course, Ms. Ryder had called me into her office to congratulate me on an excellent performance and ask if I'd be interested in joining the alumni jazz band after graduation. I'd told her I had to think about it as it felt like a step back as opposed to moving on to college jazz but I'd been flattered by the offer.

I walked out and closed the door behind me, leaving her to busy herself with whatever it was she did in there while not leading us, to find the entire jazz band now seated and in the midst of several buzzing conversations. As were Dusty, Shawn and Heather. Still. The two had gotten up and moved down to their 5th and 6th chair positions as I'd walked over to join my second chair girl.

First thing I'd done was say quietly:

"Baby, what did I say about Dusty and Shawn? Stop talking to them. Please. I'm fuckin' sick of it."

To this day I can still hear her, clear as Hell's bells, unjustifiably scream out her response, completely out of character and obviously planted into her brain by Dusty and Shawn:

"I CAN TALK TO WHOEVER I WANT!!"

I reacted out of both disbelief and betrayal by crossing my right arm over my chest with a threat of backhanding her and said:

"_WHAT_!?"

I can't recall Heather's physical reaction, if any, she hadn't even vocally retorted...but I remember seeing Dusty and Shawn hi-five, actually _hi-five_ eachother, in the silence that had followed.

Then I'd noticed just how awkward the silence was. I'd slowly dropped my arm as I took in the looks of the students behind and around Dusty and Shawn. I twisted in my seat to see the rest of the band glaring, staring daggers with narrowed eyes and partially open mouths. All I said was:

"What?"

No one answered. I'd felt my face burn immediately. I'd never before experienced that sensation, humiliation, before. I'd never dreamed that everyone, EVERYONE, could so quickly flip, with a single uncool gesture I'd never before executed, from loving me to hating my guts. My entire social world was self-destructing before my eyes. I'd become persona non grata in a split second. I'd been had; set up and caught in a trap by two kids who were supposed to be my friends...and I'd given them more in my pitfall than they could've imagined possible.

My self esteem had taken its biggest hit to date (and since) at that point. The damage would be catastrophic. News spread like wildfire and no one ever looked at me the same again. Invitations to parties dried up. I gave my solos to 3rd chair Chris Marumoto and refused to take part in the Senior Scholarship Jazz Competition. I stopped trying to play well. My concentration in my classes fell as did my final quarter grades and gpa to 2.5. I allowed myself to pathetically peak in high school. I no longer had the confidence to apply to any colleges and would end up wasting precious time at Long Beach City. I no longer had the confidence to be great, I allowed myself to become immersed in the world of heavy substance abuse. I allowed myself to become a curtain jerker in the business.

Even now, as I ruminate behind the wheel, I can't understand why I'd raised my arm to Heather, even in _that_ situation, but it had happened. I wasn't like that...I wasn't _like that_ goddammit and everyone at one time or another snaps. I deserved more understanding. I didn't receive it. For Jimmy there was no forgiveness and it became quite clear I wouldn't be allowed to turn back. I found myself becoming the piece of shit everyone had decided I was.

All because I trusted in others. All because of two hateful sons o' bitches that couldn't stand to see me do well::

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

"Killing the Comedy, Combusting the Curtain"

Here I am, back with a beet red face despite the fact that almost 20 years have passed. I feel the hatred for Dusty and Shawn, the disappointment in myself, returning like it had during my back and forth with Micheal Graves in the Savage opt in meeting. Like it had when I dropped in for the Federweight Scramble like a scumbag with a deadline bombing on the participants. Graves and Tiberius hadn't successfully fooled me into a title rematch for Cadryn, I'd fearlessly agreed anyway...but they _had_ brought the worst out of me through Micheal's betrayal. Just like Dusty and Shawn, they'd set a trap, I'd walked right into it and the results had been better than they could've hoped for.

The vehicle I'm following pulls into a gas station so I follow suit.

'Lucky you had the money for a rental. Wouldn't be able to keep up playing the ol' ditch, burn and switch game.'

Indeed. I forgot how expensive it is to have to continually gas up though...and I'll need to refuel here as well. I'll wait for them to depart. Ten minutes separation won't make that much of a difference. I'll catch up...and I know where they're going anyway.

'Feel like cutting a promo while you wait?'

Yes I do.

'Make sure you keep any telltale background details outta frame. No point in letting them know where you are.'

You always know what's best.

.....................................

"Long ago I learned my first lesson in trust. It didn't take. Many instances in my life and the business have come and gone that continue to drive the point home. This latest incident...was the final nail in my coffin of trust and it'll be the last time I ever open that casket again.

My current teaming in the Lethal Lottery, Buronan, has no need to worry. Victory is my overall goal and, hey, I actually kinda like the guy. I'll work in cooperation with him and any future partners I may have to achieve a win...but I'll never allow another soul to penetrate these newly reinforced walls.

I find it odd, Cadryn, that it was you and Micheal Slave who drove me to that decision. Not only the two of you but Darren Zirado as well. Why was it you three of all people? Let me pull back the curtain...let me set it aflame...

On the day of your return to the XWF after your whatever the hell for hiatus, who was it, Cadryn, that greeted you with open arms? As much as I hate to bring up the less-than-unfamiliar-to-the-fans lingo of our business...it was Jim Caedus, a _heel_, and a _legitimate_ heel in _or_ out of the ring at that, who was the man who welcomed you. That's it. No one else gave a shit. Not even Gravy.

How did you repay that kindness? No reply. You ignored me like everyone else had ignored you. I guess that's one of those 'many likeable qualities' being referenced on your official site fan page describing your alignment.

Soon thereafter you were named as my first title defense for the XWF Television Championship, my...all important golden girl. You fought furiously. You took me by surprise multiple times and you even managed to hit me with your Italian Driver finisher. Unfortunately, the clock ran out during your pinfall attempt. I say attempt, Cadryn, because in matches since I've proven quite capable of digging deep enough to mine and strike that same will to survive that allowed me to reanimate after murder...and kick out of finishers. I felt a kick out coming on before that bell rang and if you think it's farfetched in this business to kick out _just_ before that hand slams down for the three count, then...well, you're IN the business so you goddamn well know better. No matter how you or I see it though, you failed to take away my title and that's a solid fact.

But you, Cadryn, what did you do in response to our time limit draw? You, a babyface, threw a bitch fit. You harangued Heyman over ranking and immediately set about working on me and teasing me, like a bully, as a _babyface_, by not only declaring yourself the undisputed Television Champion but by creating a cardboard belt and editing your official XWF site fan page to state as much."

'100% sore loser brand disrespect.'

"If more people were like me, seasoned and well acquainted with such awfully asinine and antiquated antics, you would've been shamed into burning that representation of disrespect to myself, the XWF officials, the XWF as a whole and the honor that the XWF Television Title _used_ to possess. Unfortunately, that wasn't the case. Now that sophomoric sack o' shit Labia Reno and Justin Tolerable have caught the disease and we're all seeing your future legacy spread like HIV, making you the monkey fucker of this company, Cadryn. I'll return to the TV Title in a few minutes but for now, let's continue...

Weeks would pass with you continuing to harass. You refused to be the bigger man, accept your failure, and act like the role model a babyface is _supposed_ to be. While you were at it, you'd managed to both persuade Slave to buddy up with you AND alienate him just as quickly. Again, such likeable qualities shown through actions most definitely becoming of a babyface.

When the time came for me to, completely unrelated in context, invite Micheal to join the ranks of a possible new stable, he was of course interested and agreed in light of his current situation. Now, Micheal, allow me to take a moment here to address you on this issue. Although I may be a...bad _guy_...I'm unique in that I value honor, loyalty and professionalism. It was completely unprofessional of me to air our private conversations publicly. I apologize for doing so. However, don't dare mistake...you tried to make me look like a fool in front of the roster and I felt I had NO other option but to play those cards in my defense, dick move or not, completely in line with my fan page profile or not. You tried to humiliate me in front of _everyone_...Slave. And _you_, Cadryn, you helped him do it. You both set a trap to humiliate another human being and you _both_ did so..."

'Wait for it...'

"...as babyfaces.

Now, during the final days before Lethal Lottery Round 1 aired, who was it that came to your aid in time of need, Cadryn, while Robbie and I were demolishing you in promo? Darren Zirado. A babyface. A Christian. An out_spoken_ Christian. A man who loves Jesus and all...except for Jim Caedus. He's called me a 'vile hobo' among other so very Christ-like observations and insults. A babyface and a Christian came to the aid of a bullying, XWF disrespecting babyface aligned with _another_ bullying babyface who betrayed, lied and attempted to humiliate _me_."

'Anyone else noticing a pattern here?'

"As far as being Christian goes, dickhead Darren pretty much aligns with the hatred, judgment and contradiction that accompanies those holier than thou fake fuckers. However, to repesent himself as a hero, a good guy, a face...and lend support to 'babyfaces' the likes of Cady and Slave, Darren Zirado has ousted himself as a complete phony. And you, Cady, you, Slave...so are you. You aren't babyfaces...you're bullies, you're mean-spirited, you're immature...you're heels. The three of you are horrendous examples of what not to do and you set a disgusting example for your fans. _Inarguably_. You're all weak willed, you're all incapable of facing the truth therefore you lack courage and commitment. You lack honesty and the ability to have faith placed in you therefore you cannot be trusted with responsibility. You now lack credibility and therefore cannot be expected to be anything more than the slime you are. None of you are worthy of holding ANY title in this company and as you show weakness for lies, for illusion, for cowardice...I will show you all that weakness in any form can and will be capitalized upon by a vicious prick like myself to snatch victory. I've never had trouble punishing pretenders and I won't start now. Slave...for what you've done I'll have my revenge, don't you worry. And don't lecture me on what was shown in a Robbie Bourbon promo, the XWF's greatest entertainer. The ignorance is yours, asshole, and you'll pay for it. You, however, can wait. First I get to exact my revenge on _you_ Cady-cat. And I will...oh you better fucking believe it. You wanna be a heel in babyface britches? I'll show you how to TRULY be a heel. You wanna be a big bad wolf in granny's gown? Say hello to the woodsman who's gonna chop you to chunks. Still think you're gonna take my strap?

Cadryn, you've brought so much denigration down upon my golden girl that I'm now obligated far beyond the responsibilities of the defending champ to destroy your

ass once and for all. Unfortunately, we're booked in a First Blood match so in light of a change in strategy, it looks like my murdering you in a singles match with a pin will have to wait. That's fine, I'm a patient zombie.

I'm actually quite thrilled to be in a First Blood match with you, despite the facts that you've shown more dishonorable qualities than I have and you've been revealed as a schemer who obviously has something up his sleeve. What's it gonna be, coward? You gonna try to bloody me through external means and try to get the ref to believe it's my own? Maybe with Zirado involved, some sick baptism in the blood of Christ? You gonna have Slave or dickhead Darren, perhaps maybe a third minion, all so accurately defined by face description, run out and interfere? ...You gonna scratch me with your nails, Cady-cat?

I highly doubt you'll do anything less in line with being a babyface than you've already stooped to so I'll have to play it one of two ways:

I can either keep on guard for a 'babyface' breaking rules and look for my opening...or I can rush you immediately, easily overpower you, execute any number of the maneuvers in my repertoire such as punches and headbutts and have you leaking all over the ring. First Blood matches may add a more balanced ability overall for victory...but I'm stronger than you, I'm smarter than you, I'm damn sure _tougher_ than you...and I'll show you how evil _I_ can be to secure the retainer. I'll show you what force of will is, Cadryn. You haven't been able to stop acting up...I've been able to stop myself, after all you've done, from catching you in the locker room and strangling you to death. In that ring, I'm going to stop you from drawing my blood and I'm going to allow myself to be cannibalistic enough to tap yours...if I have to bite your fucking fingers off to do it. I will NOT allow you to take away my TV Title and bring about the darkest days Savage has ever seen with an effeminate twat, who couldn't even manage to maintain babyface status, to sully it further.

MY XWF Television Title, the top prize for Saturday Nights, the championship face of Savage, is now a joke, thanks to you Cady. As close as you and Slave seem to be with Colton Kato, I can't figure out why he, as the proud new GM of Fucking Savage, looks to be so willing to allow what is HIS title as well to be so thoroughly tarnished. Oh well, not _my_ problem how the man presents himself to Vincent Lane as the 'savior of Savage'. I can't control Kato without breaking several laws and my own contract but I _can_ control what I do myself. I'm going to restore the luster and glow to my golden girl that you saw fit to cloud. I don't care what you think, what you've planned...I refuse to let you ruin my reign. I'm going to get my revenge, a portion at least, by decisively defeating you in Carson, California during the opening minutes of Savage Saturday Night. I'm going to find a way to make you bleed, bitch...and I'm going to take my pound of flesh. I don't care who you pretend to be or what tricks you have in store...you will be felled. Fuck 'face', Cadryn, and fuck fakes. I'm Jim Caedus."

XXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXX

'They're leaving.'

My prey pulls away back into the flow of traffic as I end my recording and pull up to a pump. I wait for the vehicle to gain some distance before I exit my own.

Be seeing you, Cadryn.

TBC

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