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Guest Xstasy

Discontent

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Guest Xstasy

The Perfect Drug Presents…

 

Discontent

 

“What’s your name?”

 

“Phoenix Nightingale.”

 

“Where are you from?”

 

“Washington D.C..”

 

“Where are you now?”

 

“Tokyo.”

 

“Alright, X. Follow the light.”

 

Out of the public view, an on-call doctor and his assistant are checking on the mental state of The Perfect Drug. Hard hits to the head he took with a steel equalizer made that necessary. The doctor shines a pen flashlight into Xstasy’s eyes, while he follows it back and forth, up and down, barely noticing the face of the doc behind the luminance. Finally, the light is clicked off, and the doctor nods.

 

“Okay, buddy, you’re all clear. Just a bump on the head is all. You might have some pain this week, it’ll pass in a day or so.”

 

-Xstasy “That’s comforting.”

 

“Try to get some rest, big match coming up this weekend, huh?”

 

-X “Not big enough…”

 

“What was that?”

 

-X “Nothing.”

 

X rises, making his way to the showers, nodding to the other workers as he passes. Some of them are eating, some just talking, and still others are ribbing one another in jovial fashion. He smiles, wondering why he doesn’t do that anymore.

 

He sure used to.

 

But now… now the Drug is all business. He shows up, does his job, and leaves. Nineteen years old, and he’s already archaic. He remembers the old days… when Apostle would congratulate him after a good match. When ELM would put schorching hot sauce on his catered tacos without him knowing. When Spark and Raynor would try the old bucket over the doorframe trick, only to have it backstage. When Thugg, Mark, Brian, and Edwin would lose most of their loose change to him in poker. In those days, everyone knew him, everyone liked him… and most importantly… everyone cared.

 

Nothing he did seemed to work back then. All of the former Commissioners seemed to have it out for him. No matter how many matches he won, no matter how well he did, he was always at the bottom of the barrel. The other guys got their shot, and they were pretty sure X would get his too. “Kliq for life!” they would always say, when he was down. “Be patient X, your time will come!” The other guys won title after title. Against each other, against anyone. But not him. He was always thrown from belt to belt. In the main event scene one day, and out of it the next. “Yo, man, just look up! These people LOVE you, your day is coming!”

 

Three titles in the JL at the same time. Every available title in the WF. Only one prize eluded him. But to X, it was about more than the title. It was about recognition. It was about putting on a show that the boys would look at and say “Now THAT was amazing.” And no matter how much of his BUTT he worked off, no matter how much of his body, and his well-being, he put on the line… he never got the props. He never got the recognition. He never got the title.

 

Held down…

 

Times have changed. The old boys aren’t here anymore. None of these guys give a crap about him, or his accomplishments. None of them understand why he is Xstasy… the Perfect Drug. To them… he’s just a decimal point… a place holder for the ICTV title, until someone else takes it from him and he’s waving around in the breeze. To them, he’s still just another worker, one step up from a Dark Matchin’ jobber.

 

“I can’t do this anymore.”

 

It’s the system. It always has been the system, and its plagued him, and these people for far too long. Like a virus, a parasite, eating away at the talent, the drive, the love of everyone it comes into contact with. And he knows the cure…

 

“The Perfect Drug.”

 

X smiles, for the first time in a long time, it seems. Not a fake smile for the cameras. A real smile. A true smile. A smile that says this: on Ashes 2 Ashes… everyone will know all…

 

“The Joy of X.”

 

FIN

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::quotes Don't Be A Menace To South Central While Drinking Your Juice In The Hood::

 

MESSAGE!

 

::ends quote::

 

Is that a threat? Is it? Don't make me wreck your shit beeatch.

 

Da "how can I be Da H when I'm Bastion now?" H

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