Cancer Jiles
UltraViolence
Post Show
Press Conference
“Where’s Coral? HAHAHAHAHA!” — Jiles’ Journal, September 23rd, 2023.
There I sat. The mob awaited. The always more important Night Two of UltraViolence was over, and the eGG Bandits’ spacious carton had a little less room inside of it.
Got ’em.
Who am I kidding? It will be tight as fuck inside the carton now that Coral’s forehead has joined the likes of Bobby’s belly and my always burgeoning ego. Still though, even in light of my claustrophobic oversight it was a good night.
And a good thing CBD folds up nicely.
Then, it wasn’t such a good night.
Womp. Womp.
See, after the lumber got carried away I wanted to go out and celebrate with the rest of my brethren. Alas, I could not. Alas, I, the Eggsecutioner, had to stay behind because questions needed answering. However, that’s not necessarily why my night took a turn for the worse.
Definitely nothing to do with Coral.
It should come as no surprise that a COOLYMPIAN like myself thinks one of the worst parts of living is having to hang around and watch the REST of a show I’ve already performed on. Doing so makes my insides turn, my T-shades frost, and the ends of my hair split. Now, I’m sure if your last name is something like Sykes or Colton the feeling might be different.
You probably like watching.
Poor Justine.
But that’s just not me.
ZING!
Ideally speaking, I’d rather find a nice pipe, tie a loose knot, and hope for the best before I’d watch a match that goes on after mine. Sadly, for UltraViolence, that wasn’t the case. Not that there was a lack of pipes at Soldier Field to swing from; it’s just in anticipation of the Bears stinking so bad TOP officials installed anti-hang devices on all the pipes throughout the entire stadium.
It was complained about on the ESPN 97 Twitch show.
Needless to say after unsuccessfully trialing and erroring my way through The Next Diemond and Little Z, my ideal plan so to speak went kaput. So, defeated and with a belt hanging around my neck, I succumbed to a much worse fate and watched Crumblood take on Stanislob through the cracks of my fingers. The whole damn time I was watching them I couldn’t help but to think about how last year it was me who went on last. It was me who went on to become the PRIME Universal Champion at UltraViolence. It was my moment. My show. My time at the top of COOLYMPUS.
And now…
It wasn’t.
Loser.
Sure, this year I had added a brother, and that happens less often than Skybox He-Man. Yet, somehow, part of me remained unfulfilled.
No rest for the wicked.
So, there I sat. The mob awaited. UltraViolence was over. I was victorious. The shell was firm, but I was unfulfilled. Of course, I didn’t tell any of that to the crumb who was waiting for me to answer his question about why I looked so down after such a successful evening. The crumb in question, Matt Mills, was one of the many crumbs who had sprinkled together to hear what I had to say.
Poor Matt.
Instead of telling Matt it was because I was suffering from a broken heart and an insatiable yearning, I asked him, “What? Am I supposed to enjoy looking at your ugly face, Matt?” He lowered his head and quickly left the room. Personally, I think he was overcome with pride because I remembered who he was.
You know what I say– any friend of Coral’s is a friend of mine.
Ha.
Then, a distraught and brave soul rushed in the room and shouted at me wanting to know Coral’s whereabouts.
Some pregnant hoe.
I laughed, and I laughed at her. It was maniacal, sadistic, uncalled for, and each cackle grew in volume. Of course, the whole scene just caused her to shout more and more about Coral. Finally, I had to tell the bitch, “Take it easy, sugar tits. If you keep on keeping on like that you might have the baby right here and now. Quick, somebody call the father.” My rabble rousing caused me to bellow once more, AND for her to throw her Velcro shoe at me. It just missed my head by an inch, so suffice to say I was fortunate she wasn’t wearing heels. Fearful for my hair, I wailed out like she didn’t have a horse face, “Whoa! Easy there!” My words fell upon hooved ears, and she continued to holler at me like Coral owed her jockey money or something.
It’s called support.
Well, soon enough it’s gonna be called that.
I thrusted my right hand out as if to evangelize her worried horsey soul, and assured her, “Coral is going to be fine! He’s being looked at by our team of doctors. Once they’re able to determine just how thick that skull of his is, and more importantly what type of drill they’re going to have to use so that they can safely lobotomize him, you and everyone else will be seeing him in the stables again. Sound good?”
The other shoe dropped so to speak. Another near miss. Good thing she’s only got two feet or else I’m sure the third time would have been the charm. Probably would have hit me right on my busted nose and sunk my battleship.
Proverbial, not actual.
“Jeez. You’d think Coral was the father with the way you’re acting.”
Crickets.
Crazy thing, and I had no idea, but it turns out it was Coral’s wife and soon to be mother of his child that threw her shoes at me. I bet it was more because her sausages hurt from all that extra baggage she’s carrying around.
No, that’s not a little-big forehead joke either.
It could be, but it’s not.
Ha.
Of course I found out about her being Coral’s bride after I had her escorted out by security or else it would have never happened. Still though, “Uh, guys, kindly walk Bobby’s crazy sister out of here and get her some hay. Be gentle, she’s a Bandit by proxy.”
Thank God I had the lucky foresight to make sure to tell them to be gentle with her. Then again, I guess I wasn’t wrong. She is a Bandit by proxy now. Here’s to hoping that both Bun and Oven don’t get seasick.
HA.
Better yet, hopefully Oven talks to Nen about the joys of labor.
Probably be easier if she just got cut in half.
Safest bet.
—
USS Octane
A Fool
No Longer
“…I’m proud of him. Not only did he survive Banditry, but most guys just leave instead of walking around with their head in the stock. Then again, his alternative would be jumping overboard so time will tell. Let’s hope he doesn’t dive head first. He’d probably cause some sort of rogue wave if he did. Also, it’s good that Bobby likes him. After all, Coral’s hair and face cleaned parts of Bob’s belly button that haven’t seen the light of day let alone a sud of soap in a decade.” — Jiles’ Journal, September 25th, 2023.
After the press conference I removed the belt buckle from around my neck, got a hot shower, jumped in my electric blues, threw on a pair of comfy salt whites, and made my way to Timo One. From there, I alone, since the boys were already back at the boat celebrating, took to the skies and safely landed aboard the USS Octane. It was a quick flight. I did want to get Coral back to his family, so yes that is why I never dried off.
But, before Coral could go he needed to break free from the cracks on his old shell first.
Ominous noises.
That was two days ago.
GASP~!
Since then…
The screams.
Oh.
The screams.
It’s a jarring experience your first time. The more you do it the easier it gets, but those first few times are no picnic. Trust me. I have a built in tolerance, but it even took me some getting used to. If you’re not careful the process can collapse even the strongest of minds.
Foreheadowing.
Regardless of the possible pitfalls, Coral was no longer an initiate and had earned the two eggs hanging between his legs. More importantly, he earned the right to use all of the ship’s amenities.
All of them.
SO FOR THE LAST TWO DAYS HE’S BEEN IN CRYOSTASIS.
Usually your first time in cryo lasts an hour. Maybe two. Depends on the severity. The mind just isn’t made to withstand that type of cold. However, after the density tests came back positive, it was determined Coral could be an outlier and as such withstand the extremes that come with a full heal.
That’s right.
A full heal.
Rib. Fixed. Forehead. Preserved. Coral. All better. How’s that sound for a welcoming present? A nice little rejuvenating nap in the ship’s Lazarus Pit! Us Bandits thought it would be a swell idea. We told Coral, well, Bobby definitely told him and not me, that he would be in and out and feel like a young rapscallion again.
“Back home in no time.” — Beautiful Bobby’s Biggest Blunders, September 24th, 2023.
What could go wrong?
Well, the young rapscallion part was true. When (if) Coral gets out, he’s going to feel like his forehead just tore through his mother’s pink sweater that she loved so much. The short amount of time the rejuvenation process would take, well, that might have been embellished.
Again, by Bobby.
Damn him.
Now, yes, we could’ve stopped the procedure. We haven’t in the past, but then again we never went this far with someone’s first time in the deep freeze. But, after talking it over with the team, we, more so Bob, decided it wouldn’t be as cool since I did promise Coral the world. We didn’t want it to seem like we were welching on day one. Ya know, with the partial heal. Who wants that? No one is impressed with, ‘thanks for making this bearable, hopefully it doesn’t nag me as much’.
So no one is impressed with Nate Colton.
Our decision had nothing to do with if we brought him out early; it could botch the therapy and his penis might falls off.
Was it a lobotomy or a vasectomy? Oh well. One of them is reversible, and as for the other he’s probably got two or three more brains up there anyway.
Plus, the density tests did come back positive. His forehead can withstand the full blast of a double yolk at short range. We were going to use a bowling ball dropped from the bow of the ship, but no one wanted to go get it. Plus we weren’t completely sure if there was actually one on board. Since we always keep an egg on our person it was an easy compromise for everyone involved.
Goldfish.
So, yes, we went ahead with it. We put Coral in cryostasis. We thought he would just sleep easy with his added protection. He is a Bandit now. It’s how we do things. Sadly, the nightmares might tell a different story. Although, maybe Coral just shrieks like that when he’s having a pleasant dream, and his first 48 in cryo sleep haven’t been a recurring murder scene inside his head.
I mean, it is weird we can hear him at all. You’re not supposed to, since you know, well you’re frozen. Then again you’re not supposed to be in there for this long your first time in, so who knows what the rules are now. I know Bob says he can hear me whistling when I’m in there for an extended stretch. Not like he whistles, but like if I were out walking a dog. It’s not documented so who knows if he’s telling the truth.
Anyway, hopefully Coral is okay.
I guess we’ll just have to wait and find out.
—
The
Ivory
Tower
“COOLOSSUS Season. Golden Ticket Part 2. Grand return to the MAIN EVENT. Round 1 of the tournament that I was the biggest loser in last year. Revenge served COOL. There’s a chance my hair might revert back to blonde if I’m able to pull all this shit off. ReVival 36 is as MUST WIN as it gets. For me, and for the Bandits, I can not fail.” — Jiles’ Journal, September 30th, 2023.
Two Hundred and Ninety Four days.
294.
That’s how long it will have been since I, THE HARDEST WORKING MAN IN PRIME, CANCER JILES, wrestled in the MAIN EVENT.
Shit is about to get real.
Lights.
Cancer.
ACTION~!
“I never thought my life could be…”
There I am. Electric-blue collar popped. Ghostly-white hair on point. Jet-black T-Shades to kill for.
“Anything but catastrophe…”
As for where I am, well I’m aboard the ship. You can tell by the little port window, cold interior with little to no décor, and by the simple fact my precious good luck fern is with me.
“But suddenly I begin to see…”
Though it would be hard to notice the port window because hanging out in front of it is a large banner with my GOLDEN TICKET graphic taking up most of the space on it.
“A bit of good luck for me…”
Of course I’m seated, but my back is turned.
“…’Cause I’ve got a golden ticket.”
I, the walking bullseye, the dangling apple in the eye of the storm, gesture to the wonderful and glorious banner. Then, I spin around in my plush captain’s chair to face my opposition. A toothy smile graces my clean shaven face– my pearly’s totally popping.
One might say I look like I’m all smiles and shades.
“Nate. Colton.”
There goes my smile.
I spit. Charcoal in color. Gum like in texture. You would not want to step in it. A real shoe ruiner. Seems like just speaking Nate’s name puts a bad taste in my mouth.
“Friend. Of. Mine.”
I shake with disappointment.
“You and I have a lot to talk about. Yes we do. I’d like to start off by stating for the record just how big of a coward I think you are.”
Yup.
I lean forward in my chair because I want to make sure that there is no love to be lost.
“In fact, your cowardice is so great, so mighty, so rich, that the only way to truly measure it is in Avalon Foreheads.”
New Bandit championed measurement system taking over the globe.
“In your case, the cowardice measures in at around TEN Avalon Foreheads. Which, if I’m being honest, and of course I am, is something you just don’t see in today’s day and age– not even amongst the yellowest of bellies.”
Or Bandits.
Not a Bob joke.
“As for why your coward score is so high, and why it is that when I think of you I also think about other notable cowards like Francesco Schettino who I read about in a googled reddit post on cowards, Benny Arnold, and 97Red Pants Robert Dean, it’s actually pretty simple.”
Well, it wasn’t an intentional Bob joke. Not like that last one.
“It’s because you’re a fucking cheater.”
Something, something, black.
“You, the righteous. You, the honorable. You, the pumpkin eater. You, the so-called, COLTON. You, Nate, are a cheater.”
There goes another COOLYMPIAN loogie from the bowels of despair.
“You cheated me out of my kick out against Ivan at Tropical Turmoil, and you cheated me out of victory on the very next show.”
Scandalous.
I stand and point. Of course I’m pointing at the gigantic GOLDEN TICKET hanging behind me.
“I will not let you cheat me out of this!”
Done pointing.
Still standing and peacocking though.
Also, in regard to the Gee Tee, someone close to the grapevine said that if I were to carry the GOLDEN TICKET all the way to the finish line that regardless of who my opponent might be I could cash it in and have the final moved to Night Two of COOLOSSUS.
Main Event of course.
They further said that’s how they used to do it back in the day. I’m no PRIME historian so I’m just going to keep on acting like it’s true until someone tells me otherwise.
“I will not allow you to cheat me out of this tournament! I will not allow you to cheat me in my GRAND return to the MAIN EVENT!”
I guess it will have to be a clean victory for Nate then.
“I will not allow you to cheat me from missing COOLOSSUS Season!”
It’s not called Nateossus or Coltonossus or Cololton for a reason, Jack.
“MOST OF ALL, I will not allow you to cheat me out of this once in a lifetime opportunity to make so many wrong things right! YOU HEAR ME CRUMB!”
Just to clarify there’s avenging getting cheated by Nasty Nate twice, losing in last year’s Almasy final, losing in the MAIN EVENT of COOLOSSUS, squandering my first go with the GOLDEN TICKET because I may or may not have been blud thirsty, and squandering my LONG AWAITED return to the MAIN EVENT.
No pressure.
Not for a COOLYMPIAN.
“This isn’t the start of my redemption story. I’ve already suffered enough in the first few chapters. No, mine is in the middle, and part one of the climax will come at COOLOSSUS like it was always destined to.”
I snort sheer and utter dominance.
Fuck Cody Colton.
“Yours though, the one where you cheat me at every turn like the rat coward you are, comes to an end at ReVival 36.”
Pucker.
Kiss.
“Some people are just raised differently I guess.”
Goodbye.
—
USS Octane
Cryogenics Hyper Therapy Pod Station
Famous Last Words
“I hope he understands that I didn’t know who she was. Guess I’ll find out after he thaws.” — Jiles’ Journal, September 24th, 2023.
The hour was late.
We, as in Bob and I, had on lab coats. The rest of the lumberjacks, except for Laser, either went back to their respective dimensions, gone fishing, the recyclable bin, or to France.
The time was right.
Like a ravenous flock of seagulls I had picked Coral’s brain clean about how he was able to defeat the prodigal crumb known as Nate Colton. Well, I had wanted to, but we decided to put the conversation and training session off where I would learn a secret technique from him until after the therapy.
Brain that big a fleet is more like it.
Hopefully the newest Bandit will be able to offer some valuable insights.
Cecil must not have answered the bat phone.
Still though, before Coral Downer stepped inside the cryo chamber he said to me in case he didn’t make it out, that unlike my Mom, defeating Colton wasn’t going to be easy.
Then he added I already knew that.
Yes, I did find the moment to be touching, even if it was at my expense. It also reinforced everything that I already knew about him. Coral Avalon, like me, like Bobby Dean, was born to be an eGG Bandit.
Poor Doozer.
Then, Bobby promised Coral that he would be back home before he knew it, and the newly crowned Bandit went under. The process takes about a minute to reach full stasis, and once the therapeutic device begins charging there is no turning back.
This is when I decided to tell Coral that I met his wife. He got all excited like I was about to surprise him with her being there.
I kind of felt bad for him.
Instead of repeating to Coral what I had said, I just showed him the video of the interaction making its way around the web. I held my phone against the glass panel so he could see. Needless to say he wasn’t too happy. I did try to tell him that it was all a 5 Avalon Forehead misunderstanding.
I don’t think he heard me though.
All of his brains had frozen by then.
Brain freeze.