The Carnies



For some, a chance to etch their name in history.

To decide the fate of the company.

One percent stake, up for grabs.

For others…

The Carnival de Grandiose.

No matter how you slice it.

Two cages.

Two belts.

Life. Limb. Legacy.

All on the line.

All who walk into the cages know they will not be the same when they walk out of it. It’s the most understood aspect of War Games.

So, my question is simple?

If there is no cage when The Carnival is done, does that make it the main event?

Think about that while taking this journey.

With us.

The Carnival de Grandiose.

Okay, enough of this Hollywood boobery.


Refueled 7

Doozer: Releasing The Cracken!

Smug, Jiles stands contently, watching the newly formed tag team get erased like they got hit with an unsuspecting fire hose. Instead of water, think egg shell and yolk. The hallway becomes an instant mess. Shell is everywhere. A yellow trail of yolk follows O’Dell and Stevens like the yellow brick road to The Cockerel Of Oz.

Shots fucking fired.

After another sip of coffee, the older Bandit casually speaks out.

Doozer: That’s a hit. Mandell and Scorpion Boy are down…

The Dooze pauses for dramatic effect.

Doozer: and they are out.

With his special style of swagger, King COOL steps out from the boss’s office. The smile on his face reaches his incredible hair line. He looks down the hallway at Doozer, giving his partner in crime a hefty thumbs up. He then casually lowers his shades, and peers down the opposite way at Stevens and O’Dell, who now lay incapicated some twenty feet away.

Their bench right along with them.

A top a white horse, figuratively speaking that is, The Maestro of COOL calls out to them as if they were now the best of friends.

Jiles: Welcome to the Carnival boys! I hope you’ve brought your appetite!


Come one, come all.

You’re just in time!

The Carnival de Grandiose has arrived! 

Don’t bother with the tab, we’ll save you the google.

gran-di-ose: adj – impressive and imposing in appearance or style, especially pretentiously so

We’re aiming at the alternate definition here; excessively grand or ambitious.

As such, we have soda; the real sugar cane shit, too. We have popcorn buttered to Cinemagic levels. Not to mention, the finest of well-done Fraggle hair on a stick. We heard it was a certain someone’s fave flave, and we’ll be damned if any stone remains unturned for one of our own.

We have all the attractions for which a young child could ask.






A snail named Jace.






One of these things is not like the other.


Or continue?

I see you’ve chosen the latter.

So sorry.

NOT, not sorry.

Har. Har.

Please. We implore you. Don’t be shy. Bring your dumb. Bring your deaf. Bring your blind. We can accommodate any and all. This our solemn promise to you. Our tent holds no bias.

All are welcome!

Skeptical of such a boastful claim? Wondering if the carpet matches the drapes?

I understand. I truly do.



Because that’s how true teams work.

You’ll see.

So quit that scallywagging, step right up and take a seat! Please, do your best to relax, enjoy the show, and put our hospitality to the test!

It’s time.






The first attraction of many from the Carnival de Grandiose is a sideshow that comes to us from the Lonely state of Texas. 

He is neither steer nor queer. Rather, this Texan is quite the Instrument.

His name is The Scorpion Boy.

Or just Scorpion Boy for short. 

This underappreciated, red-headed stepchild of a sideshow act might seem a little big for his britches, at first glance… but, well, turns out he has been lately. He also happens to be a true coward’s coward– always attacking people when they aren’t looking. For your safety, we don’t recommend turning your back to him if you’re within or near his enclosure.

Or if your his tailor.

Poor guy.

Before settling down at the Carnival de Grandiose, Scorpion Boy longed to prove himself. He failed. Hence, why he’s called The Scorpion BOY and not MAN. Granted, had he been talented enough to ascend to such heights he wouldn’t be here, so I suppose we lucked out.

Hooray, Carnival de Grandiose!

Way to go, Stevens. Ya jerk. Nobody else likes the hair on a stick!

The Carnival’s eternally doomed Scorpion Boy once finished fifth in the fabled War Games contest. He not only knows which one it was, but also the date and time of his elimination, and which planets were in retrograde. 

Pretty sure he knows how much gas cost back then, too.

But do be sure to ask him politely about all this, or he will chew. you. out.

Speaking of chewing, The Scorpion Boy eats steak. You could say he’s diligently tubular in this regard.


Gobbles it up.

Porter House. Prime Rib. NY Strip. Filet Mignon. Kobe.

The Best.

They say, the only thing fancier than Scorpion Boy’s culinary taste is the emergency calculator and reading glasses he keeps shoved up his ass.

Equals sign.


The Carnival’s next attraction is yet another sideshow.

His name is Mirror Mandell.

AKA, The Reflection in the Night.

But how can mirrors be real if our eyes aren’t real?

Mandell hails from the large territory of Everygutter, USA. Being from Everygutter, certain things are ingrained upon you from a very young age. For instance, people from there never change their clothes. They don’t wash them. They don’t buy new ones. They sleep in them. They cry about War Games in them. They do weird calculations in the woods in them. They sit on benches in them.

It’s a tradition with as rich a history as Manchester United football.

As such, Mirror’s worn the same pair of derelict clothes for the past thirty plus years. You could say The Carnival’s Lord Hobo gives the phrase “vintage, everyday wear” a whole new meaning.

Another Everygutter tradition is the overgrown pubaic face beard. Trust me when I say, Mirror Mandell has one that rivals even The Carnival de Grandiose’s own bearded lady!

She’s from Everygutter, too. Well, since the divorce, at least. We will meet her later on the show.

For now, let’s get back to our second attraction: The Bearded Mandell. He who has bathed in at least one public restroom across all forty-eight connected states. He’s even bathed at the North Pole. Oddly enough, he did so with a Hepatitis C needle in a hot spring.

You know the year Christmas sucked? That’s why.

He can make a two story flat out of three pieces of cardboard. WITH RUNNING WATER. Just don’t ask where the water is coming from or drink from the faucet. And he’ll tell you the color is from chemicals the government are adding to it. One of those must be Yellow 5.

Mandell’s lost his dignity more times than his cavity has been checked on a cold winter’s night atop the steam vent whilst spooning his brothers of the street. The most recent example of this would be a recent wrasslin’ partnership he opted into.

The dignity part, and not the spooning.

Though I wouldn’t put it past them.

Before finding The Carnival de Grandiose, Mirror Mandell freely roamed the lands like the nomad he until recently believed himself to be. Last we knew, he also believed we haven’t landed on the moon. And that the world is flat. Sadly, like the attraction we viewed before him, he also longed for a better life. However, instead of choking on fatty meats like Scorpion Boy, this atrraction’s House of Mirrors shattered– leaving him with only reverberating reflections of an afternoon swim.

On a brighter note, Mirror Mandell is not afraid of flash photography. So, if you’re planning on taking a picture with him, fire away. If pictures come out blurry or dark, don’t blame us.

Oh, and a spell of caution here, DO NOT try to shake his hand! He will hold out a piss-ridden coffee cup and shake you down for your spare change.


Or no deal?



NEXT at the Carnival de Grandiose is an attraction more special than your typical sideshow act.

It’s a two man show.

Oh, and that’s not to say that they don’t have any freak in them.

They do.

These two flamboyant personalities bonded over the course of time and space. They endured what would kill most anyone else. They traversed seas of lava in hell on a hot pink and neon green speedboat, smoking cigars with strippers, shooting machine guns at nazi demons.

Laughing the whole time.

True story.

And that makes them special.

One is a movie star you won’t recognize.

Unless you fancy suicide snuff flicks.

You could say he’s very centered, though.

You know his style.

The other is a former covert assassin for the CIA, FBI, NASA, and DARPA. He now lives inside his concussion.

These two special soldiers have done quite the list of activities together.

They’ve even made Sex and Money together.

Just stating facts here, folks.

However, much like The Scorpion Boy and Mirror Mandell, their plate of aspirations were far bigger than their stomachs. Unable to eat all the veggies Daddy Best served them, they were sent to their rooms and have now found themselves at The Carnival de Grandiose.

Apparently fate could no longer stand to see such sorrow in their parting.

We giveth to you, with only a tad more frill needed, and commas, cause that’s what they do best. The man with a licence to kill, Double-O Zionaught, and with him, the man who swam in the sublime moviestar Rivers of Babylon, Noway Handson!

The Zionaught and Handsome Handson, everyone!!


HEY! In case you missed it, we just introduced The Zionaught and Handson. Sex and Money!


Where’s the applause sign when you need it?

Oh well. Nothing new.

Fear not! They are nice. They are fuzzy. Take a picture. Not another; one’s enough. And please, no flashes with these two. The Zionaught gets twitchy, and Handson resets all the way back to chapter one of chapter one of part one of chapter one of his Rebortion Saga Epic. 

Also, feel free to pet them. 

They especially like it when you tickle their bellies.



Our next attraction here at the Carnival de Grandiose has been lucky enough to live a lavish life of luxury. 

More so than any other of our attractions.


That said, he owns numerous caviar farms. He used to play bass for Metallica, but left the band because they didn’t draw enough dough for his liking.

He cares for a snail named Jace.

Once, he base jumped from the middle to upper floors of his marble and granite mansion/skyscraper. Said mansion/skyscraper sits atop a castle on a hill and has robots from the future for servants. 

A man with a prosthetic leg designed the whole thing.

You can’t make this shit up.

Maybe can is the wrong word.

Should, should do.

The robots say it took this daredevil of a man three days to finally reach the ground. They also said that during those three days he circled the Earth, paragliding like an eagle, using the many Championship belts he has won for wings. He survived the whole encounter without the use of a parachute. 

Even stuck the landing like a gold medal gymnast.

Scratch that, they redacted this last bit. Apparently the Olympics called and gave him every gold medal.

Granted, this was all translated from binary code so there might be some errors here and there.

More importantly, this paragliding, rich, champion, caviar farmer of man has also planned every detail of his life down to the last letter. His mother said that when he was born, he had a journal in his hand that detailed his time while inside the womb and all of his future accomplishments.

Mandell thinks he’s Illuminati.

He sold the journal for 25,349,282 million dollars… and 97CENTS.

He is Brian “The Brain” Hollywood aka Brian Hollywood. Don’t forget about his snail, Jace. Now that The Brain and his snail have found the Carnival de Grandiose, they are looking to start a new world order.

Maybe Mandell is on to something…

They will do it with smarts, cunning, planning, and smarts. Also, money and smarts.

Smarts and Money, baby.

If you’d like a picture with them, it will cost 1,368 zillion dollars. Or, as The Brain likes to say, “the loose change I have in my piggy bank in the Cayman Islands.”


Before we continue any further, we’d like to say thank you for sitting through the opening cry-baby acts. 

They do their Best.

They do.

In any event, our next act requires a bit of time to get ready.


That said, please, take this time to stretch your legs and enjoy the concessions. 



Plan C

The one you don’t fuck with.
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