Sarah Twilight, your breath stinks.

[Vargas]

Semi-retirement is a fickle bitch.  

My first professional wrestling match was sweeter than losing my virginity, and that in itself – was pretty fuckin’ sweet. 19 years old in Bristol, Tennessee. Dropped an L to a Tennessee Legend and SLW World Heavyweight champion, Damien Ryle. Even being handed a loss, I was hooked. For 27 straight years it’s all I ever knew. That’s how I earned a living. A very beautiful living at that. At net worth of $16 million for a professional wrestler country boy who grew up with nothing ain’t shit to scoff at.  

Why not just enjoy retirement?  

Fuckin’ boredom, man!  

While wrestling garnered me more than my fair share of millions, it has also taken a lot from me. More mornings than not it takes me an hour to get out of bed, another hour to get the ole bones motivatin’. My marriage, my children, I missed my fair share of baseball games and holidays over the years being on the road. I’ve taken a lot of heart crushing losses recently as well. Enough for the 

average joe to say “FUCK IT.” But, I’m not a pussy, and I believe in the old adage – keep on keepin’ on.  

Nod to Joe Dirt, who is a cultural icon, an American Hero. 

But for real, why not just enjoy retirement? 

Cause I fuckin’ can’t, don’t you get it!? This shit is in my blood. I cannot live without it. Even if the sport passes me by with all the young bucks throughout the roster. Let’s be honest, CHAD VARGAS will always be one of the biggest draws in the industry, even when I’m 86, I’ll sell more tickets than that dyke Sarah Twilight or her ass ugly gal pal Lilith. Let’s be honest.  

But honestly, I will never say no to OCW. Whenever Online Championship Wrestling is promoting wrestling programs, I will be a part of them. It doesn’t matter whether Dean, Treat Cassidy, Jock Reasoning, or that bitch made homosexual Marcus Welsh is captaining the ship – I’ll be on the fuckin’ boat, I can promise you that.  

But, Chad? Manifest Destiny II will be one of the biggest payouts OCW has ever offered. A healthy purse, of what some would call “real money”. 

HA! 

I’ll wipe my ass with that “real money”. While Sarah Twilight probably needs it for her rent or her car payment on her ’92 Toyota Tercel. Take the money and cram it up your ass.
I want the wins. I want the bragging rights. I want the glory. I want to restore the goldrush to VARGAS MOUNTAIN one more again, baby!

Wrestling is fine and dandy. But the World has more serious problems at the moment.  

HA! 

The only real problem the world has right now is the mental retardation throughout it! People are so brainwashed it’s scary. You got morons like “The Incredible One” Ian Bishop placating on how much of a bad ass he is, whilst he’s hiding in his home in bum fuck Canada because he’s scared he’s gonna get killed by the air. It’s a common cold people; man the fuck up!  

46 years in this great big world is a long time. Almost a half century alive, you live to see a lot of things. And just when you think you’ve seen it all, the unthinkable happens. The novel coronavirus has sent lightning bolts throughout the world. Dipshits everywhere sucking up every little tidbit of information their television sets tell them. A lot of these dumb motherfuckers would strap themselves to the train tracks and let the Orient Express run over them if their government officials told them too.  

Stay six feet apart, wear your facemasks, stay at home, save lives.  

Explain to me the lives you’re saving by staying home? Are you all that clueless? Don’t answer that. The Sarah Twilight’s, Ian Bishop’s, and Eric Dane’s of the world… ARE that fucking clueless! We shouldn’t ask.  

If stupidity was susceptible to contracting this virus; that would be amazing. What a way to thin out the population. But, if that were the case, The Confederate Icon would be without an opponent for his return to glory at Manifest Destiny II. 

But yes, I’m basically saying: Sarah Twilight, you ugly fuckin’ cunt – I hope you contract COVID-19 and die a slow and painful death, and take the entire LGBT community with you! 

If I hear the words ‘social distancing’ one more time, I’m liable to disengage someone’s jaw from their face. There is no boogeyman. There is no big bad wolf. 

Except… 

CHAD FUCKING VARGAS!   

Everclear County, Tennessee is the most beautiful and pristine town in the entire United States of America. It is truly a national treasure. Home to such greats such as Davey Crockett, Dolly Parton, Morgan Freeman, and Tina Turner to name a few. A sidebar: Sarah Twilight is fixin’ to get smacked up worse than ole Ike beat the fuck out of Tina on a nightly basis. Dangerous Dan also hails from Tennessee, but we done burnt that ---’s house down last year. He fucked off to Southern California. All the celebrities from Tennessee, there are none bigger and badder than the true REBEL from the SOUTH – CHAD fucking VARGAS!!! During this ‘plandemic’ Vargas has picked up the entire state of Tennessee and carried it on his back. Carrying it all the way to the Promised Land. Delivering food and supplies to the less fortunate, much like a modern day JESUS CHRIST. A heatseeker on wrestling television, but a humbled every day man when the cameras are off. As long as you aren’t gay, liberal, or black – Vargas will do absolutely whatever he can to help you. The Prophet of Job. Its unfortunate THE MAN, THE MYTH, and THE LEGEND has gotta leave his humble abode and board a flight to Key West for his next match up. It’s time to dust off the rust and get back in the saddle again. 

A ringing telephone jars Vargas’ out of deep thought. He sighs, annoyed as he reaches over for his cell phone. One look at the phone and you can tell he’s displeased.  

Vargas: Yeah, Treat. What is it? 

Cassidy: Hi to you too, Chad. Is that REO Speedwagon playing in the background? 

Embarrassed, Vargas quickly fumbles around for the remote. He smashes the mute button as fast as he can.  

Vargas: Must have been something on TV. But, yes, Treat. I have my plane tickets. I’ll be at the airport tomorrow morning. Been in this business for nearly 30 years, but yet you insist on checking in with me every fuckin’ time!  

Cassidy: LOL. 

Vargas: Did you seriously just say that!?  

Vargas sighs, taking a deep breath. He can’t even believe it.  

Cassidy: Hey, you pay me to be your agent. So this is me, being your agent. Mack O’Connor is the same way. You guys treat me like I’m some miscreant but seem to forget YOU employ me. You want me to frig off, I’ll do just that! Perhaps I can go and represent 

Sarah Twilight!  

Like clockwork, both Vargas and Cassidy burst out into uncontrollable laughter for what seems like 10 straight minutes.  

Cassidy: JK. I only represent talent.  

Vargas: That savagery out of nowhere is really eclipsed by your use of internet acronyms, FYI.  

Cassidy: LOL!  

Vargas: Jesus… anyway, yes, Treat. I’ll see you at the airport. 

Cassidy: Hey, don’t shoot the messenger. You’ve been out of the game a bit. I want to make sure you’ve got time to get acclimated and get some training in when we land. I’ve go--- 

Vargas: I’ve eaten twizzlers with more stamina than Sarah Twilight are you fuckin’ kidding me? Train for what!? 

Cassidy: Okay okay, you’re right. But, either way, we need to go over the GCWA contract also. So, I’ll see you at the airport.  

Vargas ends the phone call without saying good bye. He shakes his head, chuckling at the ridiculousness of his longtime agent as he lays his head back on his pillow, going back into his meditation…  

>>>>> 

It’s almost time to catch a plane and fly to Florida for OCW’s big rebirth show Manifest Destiny II. Vargas is all packed and ready to roll. He’s got some time to kill before he meets Treat Cassidy at the airport. A fifth of Southern Comfort would be fitting for the plane ride. He stops by a little liquor store in nearby Nashville. He is about to open the door to the establishment when a sign taped to the glass catches his attention. 

NO FACE COVERING. NO ENTRY.  

Vargas shakes his head and proceeds to open the door. What the fuck is a face covering are his thoughts. He gets an evil eye from Karen and her short spikey hair as he struts in like he owns the mother fucker. He makes his way to the whiskey selection and looks up and down before finding his brand. He grabs two handles of SOCO and walks it up to the counter.  

Vargas: How she goin’?  

The cashier stares holes through Vargas. Vargas completely no sells it as he reaches into his back pocket and pulls out his wallet. 

Cashier: Did’ja read the sign? 

Vargas: Yup, sure did. What do I owe ya? 

The cashier doesn’t make any moves toward ringing the whiskey bottles up, instead staring at Vargas with pure disgust.  

Cashier: The sign reads no fac--- 

Vargas: Yeah, fuckboy – I read the sign. You are scared of the boogeyman. But guess what? I’m a MAN. I don’t wear fucking masks to go shopping. If you want to be a pussy, be one. But, don’t ask me to join you. I don’t have AIDS. I’m not a zombie. So, either you ring me up or I’m going to cram ONE of these bottles down your throat and walk out with the other one free of charge. Your call.  

With his ego shattered and without taking his eyes off the complete DEMAGOGUE before him, he scans the two bottles of Southern Comfort.  

Cashier: $22.55  

Vargas nods as he thumbs through the cash in his wallet. He pulls out a twenty and a five and slaps it down onto the counter. 

Vargas: Thanks hoss! Keep it. Buy yourself a couple “face coverings”, bitch!  

The cashier has absolutely nothing to say. He’s so taken back by the sheer brutality of the man before him. We get a shot of Karen whose eyes widen in terror. You know damn well she wants to summon the manager but knows it’s no use because he just got OWNED by the SOUTHERN SAWHORSE. Vargas grabs his bottles and heads out the door nodding at Karen on his way by as the scene fades to THE CONFEDERATE FLAG.  

Vargas: First of all, Why the fuck am I even booked against you!? I am so offended. You should be in the fuckin’ kitchen or on your knees sucking on a cock - not matched up against yours truly in a program of this magnitude. But it is what it is. You, Sarah Twilight, are what is wrong with this country. You are more disgusting than those Descovy HIV medication commercials. You need a bullet between your eyes just like those ---gots. You’re a lazy leech of society. Without the ‘fame’ you’ve achieved from wrestling, you’d likely be flipping burgers at Mickey D’s or selling your ass for money. Not that you’d get much business. You are built like a 12-year old boy. Your mother should have spit you down the drain. Not even good enough to be swallowed. If I were you, I would use your appearance check and get the fuck out of dodge, never to be seen again. But, I’ll give you credit, you’ve got some set of balls on you for standing in there and accepting this match. You are a speed bump on my cruise to winning Manifest Destiny and etching my name as OCW’s best ONCE and FOR ALL. I am going to break you in half and leave you wishing you we’re back in mom and pop’s basement, sucking dick on your street corner for a pack of cigarettes. I never dreamed I would come across someone that Melinda Rhodes is better than. But, look at you, I found her! You can back out at any time Sarah, and if you don’t – you’re a dumber cunt than I originally thought! Don’t forget your face covering, because your breath stinks! See you in a couple days; and as always… KING KONG AIN’T GOT SHIT ON ME!