THEN, NOW, FOREVER. TOGETHER.

“Nobody notices your sadness until it turns into anger. And then you’re the bad person.” — THEN April 24, 2023 Yes sir, we promised you a great main event tonight Buried deep within the closet of his bedroom, he shakes uncontrollably at the thought of having to face the former Universal Champion, Cancer Jiles. For he is a mere mortal, and Jiles, of course, a growing legend by the second. Multi-time world champion, the pinnacle of not only COOL but of the main event. A staple amongst the names at the top of the list. Everything Jonathan-Christopher is not.

Hall is trying to find his way. A boy filled with anxiety at the thought of living up to his spouse’s dreams - dreams of the main event, the ultimate power couple, showered by praise left, right and center. Yes, she is headstrong; she’s not an idiot. She has a, amen, way of rubbing people sideways. She hears the boos and knows the likelihood of living the full blown American Dream with Hallmark Movie scripting isn’t the most realistic outcome. But, as she says…

“It doesn’t matter if they’re talking good or bad about you, at least they’re talking.”

The greatest manager in the world doesn’t have to equal universal adoration.

Jiles understands. He get it. Never once has the leader of the eGG Bandits said he’s noble. Cancer feeds off patheticness. It’s why nobody can stop talking about what he does next.

But here we are, miles away from over-easy, scrambled or sunny-side-up. Fresh off a loss to Sage Pontiff, Jonathan-Christopher’s wrestling record sits within the .500 mark. This is nowhere near acceptable. Vickie wants their names prominently in the mouths of the PRIMEates. She yearns for the cold opens, the in-ring interviews and, most importantly, the main events to revolve around her.

As previously mentioned: the best manager EVER.

A victory against Cancer Jiles would be a solid first stepping stone, a damn good feather in the cap. This is more than a mid-card battle. Hall hears the chatter. He’s watched Jiles’ mouth flap endless slander. Who is this former BRAZEN prospect with the hyphenated name? A fly, a peasant, a typical crumb to The King of COOL, that’s who. It terrifies Jonathan-Christopher so deeply, he’s frozen on the floor of their closet, looking straight up at whom he thought was Cancer Jiles performing a home invasion.

No. It’s simply his wife, his Amazing Life Partner, Vickie, standing over him with a ghost white wig and clever little grin.

Cosplaying their enemy.

“Awwww my sweetie buns,” she begins in a calm and relaxed manner, as if she’s unable to grasp his anxiety. Instead, she finds it comical. “Did you believe I was him?”

He lowers his head in embarrassment, as she continues to encourage him out from the closet. But does anyone know what it’s like to live inside his head? From afar, he’s weak, non-confrontational and scared of his own reflection.

The reality is he’s just not a violent person.

He’s asked to be when the bell sounds. Wrestling requires JCH to bring forth strengths he’s not yet found.

He’s not one to take charge, either.

But she demands it. He’s the one in the middle of the squared circle, after all.

And tonight, as Hall tries extremely hard to mentally prepare himself for what might be the most noteworthy match of his career, he’s sidetracked.

With this.

“Oh, Jonathan-Christopher,” she says with a nonchalant sigh, “you have nothing to be afraid of.”

She holds out the t-shades. That classic, trademark look. The badass look. Big dick wheeling, ladies catch a feeling, JCH is sure Cancer Jiles scores all the babes with confidence.

Twelve inch penis, no doubt.

Those t-shades. That’s what it shows… but what does it hide? It’s Jiles’ mask because beneath the surface, he’s a one-dimensional man. Jonathan-Christopher has spent the last week watching countless Jiles wrestling tapes. The COOL is the same person he was three years ago, as he is today. Might be the same a few years from now, too.

Funny man, sure. Clever dude, absolutely.

Same old shit, goes without saying.

“This fucking guy,” Vickie laughs, while she smoothly places the shades on her face, along with the wig.

“He’s an idiot. Look at these. T-shades? More like L-shades. L for LOVE and LOSS, double-whammy. Which is exactly what he will receive from you.”

JC is trying, he’s trying so hard to stand up and pull himself together. Jiles is a fraud and he can be exposed.

Twelve inch penis, but pencil thin.

And while Vickie’s face slowly starts to morph, Jonathan-Christopher places one hand on the ground to push himself up.

However, her nose sinks deeper into her face. Her eyes, despite being hidden from within the shades, space out. Her cheekbones prop upright, with a six-o’clock bend. Her lips begin to pucker. Then, the electric white hair, that wig upon her skull… it starts to melt within her savage blonde locks.

It is no longer the face of Vickie, his ALP, standing in front of him. Nor is it her body.

Cancer Jiles, hovers over top of him.

In.

The.

Flesh.

Twelve inches and all underneath there. A hammerhead shark. Probably.

Jonathan-Christopher no longer pushes up off the ground. In horror, he’s frozen. He watches Cancer Jiles infiltrate his wife. Standing in their bedroom.

“You’re being silly again,” although the voice coming out of Jiles belongs to Vickie. “But if you’re going to stay down there for a while, you might as well look for your gimp mask.”

Pucker. Kiss. It’s bloody terrifying.

“And come out when you want punishment.” — NOW COOLIMANIA is running wild Time ticks away from the clock in the corner. It’s surprisingly relaxing to hear each second evaporate. Inside the Hall penthouse suite, there are only digital clocks but within these tiny living quarters, a number of things stand out. The limited amount of furniture, the washed out colors on the walls and that little white battery operated clock.

“I can only imagine what you’re going through,” she says. Dora, that is. Dora, the girl with the kind eyes and big heart, she’s become quite the support for Jonathan-Christopher.

He nods, ever-so-slightly. She’s right. Well, maybe. He thinks so. But she can tell he has doubts. It’s his body language. When he sulks forward, elbows resting on his knees and he starts rocking back and forth, she knows he’s at the start of a hypertension episode.

Or a mental health collapse.

It’s very obvious.

“Despite what everyone says, there has to be a human being somewhere inside,” Dora mentions in reference to Cancer Jiles, which is the topic of discussion. Dora is more than happy to be there for Hall, like he’s been there for her. While it started off on the wrong foot - that Jonathan-Christopher is and was addicted to “meth” - they’ve built a rather healthy relationship since. Clearly, Jonathan-Christopher is addicted to something. Someone. And she’s just as bad a meth.

Perhaps worse.

Society slanders meth users. It’s illegal. Addictive. Problematic and life altering. Not in drug stores. As Dora and Jonathan-Christopher have discussed thoroughly over the past few months, the human condition desires love. To feel need. To be wanted. Love is a paramount necessity across age, race, religion, gender, etc.

Humanity strives for it.

Love doesn’t intend to be damaging, not like substance use.

Pure.

Jonathan-Christopher has shared a lot with Dora. Or at least as deep as his thoughts can go. But she’s stunned to hear such a quiet man can have terrific insight, when given space. He would tell of the times that he and Vickie went to a movie and they’d see someone else alone. How sad that individual must feel. Loneliness is painful.

And now, how alone he is. Last week JCH went to the movies by himself.

Dora says they can go together. They can hang out often, if he’s comfortable. She doesn’t want to push. But then again, she resides in New Orleans and JCH remains situated within the Silver State.

Dora studies him. She sees his wheels are turning, unable to eject Cancer Jiles from his head. If only she could surgically dive in and start pulling out neurons, Hall would be saved. Eternal Sunshine of the Spotless Mind is, indeed, a fiction film, where previous memories could be forever erased from the subconscious. Needless to say, it sounds like a wishful disposition.

“Do you think… he really did it?” She doesn’t have to go into detail.

“I don’t- I don’t know,” he replies, aimlessly staring ahead. “That was her voice on his phone.”

There’s another drawn out pause.

“And Conor sent me a message, in a bottle. Actually,” Hall grumbles in depression. “Explained everything.”

Continual seconds tick off the clock but Jonathan-Christopher doesn’t feel pushed or pulled in any direction. He can sit here for hours.

Oh, he already has.

“Do you…” Dora cautiously approaches. She’s been sober again for a couple of months. Her skin looks radiant, her face free of acne. “Do you want me to be there for you? At Colossus? I can.”

He crinkles his forehead and leans back into his chair. He stops nervously rocking. Instead, he slowly moves his head towards Dora’s direction.

“Jonathan-Christopher,” she says in a concerned, yet caring tone. “We aren’t doing anything wrong. I’m your friend.”

Blank face, he studies her. His eyes are the only thing that moves. She is his friend. She’s the only one from ‘group’ who didn’t get mad when he told the truth.

“F-friends?” He can barely squeak out the notion.

“Yes. Friend,” she confirms. “Besides, didn’t you invite all of us to Colossus last year?”

He did. Section 640. In the same location he met Vickie as an usher, fresh out of highschool. Last year, Hall asked the entire rehabilitation group to cheer him on in person. After all, the pay-per-view was only a hop, skip and a jump away from their sessions.

Maybe that’s how he had the fighting spirit to beat Cecilworth Fartington.

“Friend.” Jonathan-Christopher mentions with emphasis. Factual. Legitimate.

“Damn right,” she rejoices.

He closes his eyes and nods along. “I’d love if you’d attend.”

An unknown emotion starts to fill his body. It emanates in his chest. His arms. His neck and head. He can’t explain what he’s going through but for the first time in months, he feels incredibly relaxed. If not, confident.

A tingle of joy.

“I know money is tight,” he exclaims, “I’m happy to pay for your flight, accommodations, ticket…”

Dora chuckles, standing from her chair. It only takes a couple of steps to reach Jonathan-Christopher. She places her hand on his shoulder, for just a split second, before removing it completely.

“It’s okay. I have a steady job now. I don’t mind paying my own way.”

She moves into the kitchen to pour a glass of water.

“I’m your friend. I want to do this for you.”

Words so foreign, he wished he could hold onto this feeling for longer. — FOREVER. It’s not over “Do you dream?” She asks rather quizzically, as if she desires a seriously in depth answer from the man she’s starting to know. They had a nice night out - went to the movies but not before going to her favorite little place for dinner. Well, actually, it’s her second favorite. This wasn’t the fast food she typically craves. Instead, it was a wear your best dress, be treated as a queen night on the town.

The Capital Grille.

Vickie likes him. She’s definitely forward enough to show it. She lays on his chest as they both relax on her bed. They’ve been seeing each other for about three months. They met at her father’s wrestling event while she was in town. She’s either flown down to NOLA every week since, or she’s paid to send him up her way. Whatever daddy’s little girl wants.

He’s taken a while to think about her question. That’s why the narration is stalling for time.

“I- I think I do?” He says but his voice waivers throughout. He doesn’t sound so sure.

She lifts her head from his chest and studies his face. She smiles, she even laughs. Not rudely or anything; she finds him amusing.

She’ll bring it out of him. Maybe not tonight, or next week, but one day.

“I dream…” she places her head back on his chest and nestles it deep. “I dream all the time. Kinda hard not to when you’re in your father’s shadow.”

He starts stroking her hair. “I’m sorry.”

“No. Don’t be,” she responds. “It’s been like this all my life. I dream of having a real family. Instead it’s, ‘Hey daddy, do we have to go out of town this week?’, ‘Hey daddy, why were you in a six hour meeting?’, ‘Hey daddy’, ‘Hey daddy’, ‘Hey daddy’...”

Her voice trails.

“I dream of a day when daddy is there for me, ya know? Dreamt of that my whole life…”

She lifts her head from his chest once again.

“I like that you listen to me. Daddy never does. Mommy never did,” she rambles, stress weaving in and out of her voice as she mentions, specifically, her father. “Anyway, you’re like the first person who has ever listened. I don’t want to abuse the privilege.”

He doesn’t even know there is such a line to cross.

“I enjoy listening to you,” he affirms.

“Well, good,” she lets out a hint of playful laughter. “Because I’ve got a lot of thoughts. I can only bottle them up for so long…”

— TOGETHER. The world is watching! “Where did I go wrong?”

He’s been saying this for months, ever since he came across the footage. Self reflections intensify. Events pop in and out of his head. The good times they had. More specifically, the times they had before PRIME became a focal point.

Back in the Hall estate, Jonathan-Christopher opens the front door and walks into nothingness. He used to be greeted with a hug and a kiss. Those were the early days. The middle ones revolved around seeing her tucked into the kitchen table, spooling over scouting reports for his upcoming opponents.

The late days saw her heavily submerged under their bedroom blankets, sound asleep.

Hall places his keys on the empty bookstand. He opens the closet and tosses his jacket on the hanger. It’s the only hanger there. He’d move into the bedroom, but he knows that now, upon entry, he won’t see her hair straightener, he won’t notice PRETTY PINK© clothing scattered around. There is nothing left in this home that belongs to her.

Except memories.

Is this another night of crying or pulling his hair? Maybe both. Self-harm has become the norm.

Go ahead and destroy him, Cancer Jiles. Reclaim your COOL. You were castrated at the hands of Coral Avalon. Jonathan-Christopher was pummeled by Hayes Hanlon. Maybe it was Kerry Kuroyama.

Actually, it was neither. Wins and losses don’t matter now. Hall barely remembers wrestling because it entirely revolved around her.

SLAM!

He punches a hole in the wall.

WHAM!

He grabs his keys and hurls them across the room.

TUG.

There we go, he’s resorted to the familiar hair pulling.

“YOU ARE A LOSER!”

Maybe if he was a little quicker, tougher and more resilient. Maybe if he didn’t spend his time CRYING IN A CLOSET.

SHATTER!

Oh, he’s desperate. He put his hand through the mirror.

No bother. This isn’t his first mental breakdown. He’ll clean up what he can when he’s grounded. For now, let it rip.

Rip.

RIP.

Might as well pull more hair out-

Clap, clap, clap.

Wait a second. He stands completely frozen in the middle of the living room.

Clap, clap, clap.

The sound is getting louder.

CLAP, CLAP, CLAP.

It’s coming from… the bedroom.

CLAP, CLAP, CLAP.

There’s someone else in the home!

“Jiles, is that you? What do you want!?” Hall screams, inching closer to the bedroom door. “Adam? Come to apologize? Well I don’t care WHAT you have to say, Adam…”

CLAP, CLAP, CLAP!

The clapping grows stronger.

CLAP, CLAP, CLAP!!

He reaches the door. He’s not in a mind frame to quibble any further. He’s not whimpering out of this, either. Rage fills his soul, he shoots the door open and marches inside.

Clap, clap, clap.

He scans the room. He sees a man, hunched over, quivering like a mother fucker in the closet, hands buried in his face.

Clap, clap, clap.

He spins around to see another man sitting in a chair at the opposite end of the room, cigarette in his mouth. It takes Jonathan-Christopher a moment to catch his breath, calm himself down and rub out his eyes.

The man in the chair, with the cigarette…

Back to the man in the closet, shaking head to toe…

They’re the same person. They’re-

“Hey,” the cigarette guy breaks the intense silence. “Nice to see me again.”

Jonathan-Christopher Hall stares at Jonathan-Christopher Hall.

The real JCH can’t believe what he’s walked into.

“Oh, you better believe it, schmucko,” the man with the ciggy states. “Might as well get to the formal greetings.”

He takes a long, looooonnng drag of his death stick.

“My name is Jonathan,” Jonathan points to the guy shaking inside the closet. “And that idiot, right there, is Christopher.”

Christopher slowly removes his hands from his face, revealing that he, too, is Jonathan-Christopher Hall. Tears roll down Christopher’s cheeks.

“Listen, we’re going to be having a conversation,” Jonathan quips, capturing the real Jonathan-Christopher’s attention. “Because we’re a mess.”

He pauses and smirks towards the man in the closet. “Aren’t we, Christopher?”

Christopher sniffles.

“It’s about time you started to make a real decision,” he takes another drag of his cig. “I’ve seen it. I’ve seen glimpses of the man you want to be. He pokes his head out of there, every-so-often. But then POOF, he vanishes.”

“I wonder why,” Christopher squeaks from the closet. “We love Vickie.”

“Yes, well…” Jonathan points towards the edge of their bed, as if offering JCH a seat. “Might as well get comfortable.”

Jonathan smiles. Or smirks. Or sadistically stares at the real JCH.

“Do you hate Jiles for slamming your wife as much as I do?” Jonathan asks. “CJ needs to stop trying to make COOLOSSUS happen, it’s not going to happen.”

Jonathan leans forward. He points to Christopher, then to himself and finally, to Jonathan-Christopher.

“CJ should never see the main event again.”

The real JCH stares down at the blood dripping from his arms, the result of putting his hands through glass. He sees remnants of dried blood on the carpet. He remembers the previous fits he threw in this very room. The time he smashed other mirrors as his father-in-law watched. Hall pleaded for mercy from his thoughts.

Looks like his thoughts have answered the call.

“By the way, we’re not leaving until you make a choice. Who you are, what you want…”

That grin.

“And what we’re finally going to fucking do about it.” — Epilogue Gimme a HELL YEAH!!!!111 Vickie Hall’s iPhone 15 Pro Daddy Cakes Daddy Cakes Baker’s Man iMessage 04/24/23 11:11pm   this is fuckong stupid daddy- hes patriotic- oops pathotic- switching autocorrect off I ATE IT- CRY CRY CRYYYYYYY- i need a badd boy daddy- some1 dangerus!- -Honey! What’s wrong, my cute as a daisy flower!? thought this wud B easier- hes nowhere near calibur of wrestler U thought he wud B- -He’s a work in progress, darling! Getting better by the second! -Never said it’d be a walk in the park! But that’s what will make you the best manager EVERRRRR! -It’s going to look incredible on YOU when you foster him, of all people, to be the next world champion! -I would bold YOU but there does not seem to be this feature on iMessages! -Looks like I got a new IDEA to pitch! ya sure W/E god daddy u have so many iDeAs- anywayz life with jonathon-christopher was fun before- now im losing interest- -Remember where he came from, honey! Abuse, neglect, torment! -You’re really starting from scratch! -But he has the fundamentals! SIGH- this aint working i wanna be champoin by now!- i need to lite a different kindo fire undre his a$$- & have some fun doing ittttt- u mind if daddys little girl looks elsewhrreee LOL for a while?- -Honey! Do whatever you desire! -You know what I say: it doesn’t matter if they’re talking good or bad about you, at least they’re talking! ok- oh ill get them talking alrite- gonig 2 connect w Mr. Get Them Talkong- watch this- best of both worlds- tehehehe- — Vickie Hall’s iPhone 15 Pro The T-Shades Guy iMessage 04/25/23 3:09am hey-