Another Wrinkle

The scene fades in from black. Steve Solex is shown sitting alone, in a corner, with his head in his hands. His hands are wrapped and taped with white Venum boxing hand-wraps. The wraps are dingy and old, showing the wear and tear of a million punches. A white, canvas heavy bag swings calmly in the center of the room, which appears to be a basement. The swinging of the heavy bag from the eight-by-eight beam framed into the ceiling makes a squeaking sound every time the chain reaches its highest point.

Then suddenly the basement scene fades to black.

Wait, that’s the other gentlemen’s feud.

This is the original.

The camera pans into a close up of Solex, still in the same position. His breathing is extremely labored as he begins to rock back and forth. His hair is still dark, but in the darkness is a tint of green.

“AAAAAAARRRRRRGGGGGGGHHHHH!!!!!!!!”

Without warning, Solex sends a blood curdling scream out of his body. It echoes throughout the room, bouncing from cement wallet to cement wall. He takes his head from his hands and looks right into the camera. But this isn’t the Solex you’ve seen before, and this isn’t Shawn Kutter or Logan Tyler. 

This is something different.

This is demonic. 

This is sick.

His face is painted all white, with hints of red and green around his eyes and mouth, not too dissimilar to Joker’s look from The Dark Knight.

“I’m new again,” he says in a devilish whisper.

“I’ve been reborn.”

“Welcome to the end times, friends. The timeline has reached it’s final stop,” he says from behind a sadistic smile.

“Welcome to the era of Devastation.”

“I’m here,” he says softly, giggling like a psychopath.

The giggle quickly turns into manic laughter as he tilts his head back, staring up at the ceiling. The camera begins to get shaky and jerky as static lines and white noise begin to overlay the scene. He yanks his head from left to right, up and down, and back again, all in random succession and then suddenly he focuses back on the lens of the camera.

“You’re not ready, though! None of you are! You’re all too busy with your Twitter machines, and your Facebook fuckery to know what’s in store for you.”

“For all of you! Every last one of you troglodytes!”

“I’m here. I have arrived. Dr. Devastation has arrived.”

Another wrinkle in the personality problem of Steve Solex has just reared its ugly and evil self front and center. And this one is apparently called, Dr. DevastationThe look on Solex’s face has taken on the persona. He grins an evil grin that stretches from ear to ear, as he stares into the camera with his empty eyes. He holds the pause for an extended period, never once blinking.

Only staring.

His eyes begin to well up with tears, and one small drop seeps out of his right eye and rolls down his cheek. Finally, he blinks. He sloppily licks his chapped lips as he continues to stare into the camera.

“Bobby Dean, what Steve Solex has started, I will finish. You are not the hilarious and gullible fat kid everyone pretends to love. No, Bobby. You are pure evil. You are the gluttonous monster we’ve been warned about. You are the embodiment of the comorbidity that brought the entire world to its knees. You are the epitome of what the food pyramid would look like if it grew arms and legs and took in all of the carbs and sugars that it suggests you eat. You are the problem the government wanted and the one it created, Bobby Dean. And I’m here to help rid the world of you, for what we can only hope is once and for all.”

“You are no good, Bobby. You may have a good time trying so hard to be happy-go-lucky about your situation week in and week out, but I see the pain in your eyes. I see the hurt that you live with Bobby.”

“I know your pain, Bobby!”

“For I was once what you are now. A miserable waste of space, who hides behind his pain with a fake smile right above his double-chin. As you shovel cheetos into your mouth with your pudgy hands, and drown orange crumbs down your gullet with a Code Red Mountain Dew, it’s hard to drown out the sound of your organs screaming in agony while you punish it with super processed food and high sugar drinks.”

“You’re a fat cliché, Bobby. Healthy at any weight, except the one you’re at Bobby. And I’m the demon of Devastation, here to help usher you into irrelevance, once and for all,” he says with a smile that quickly turns into a sad frown.

“It’s sad to watch you try and make sense of your whole life. To watch you deny the fact that you are sick, and that you are going to die…not eventually, but soon. It’s hard to watch you pretend, Bobby. You’re not happy, my fat friend and you never will be. Not as long as you continue to live life the way that you do. So repent, Bobby. Repent from food, repent from sugar, repent from HOW, repent from wrestling, repent from the Bandits….repent from life, Bobby,” he insists, still staring into the camera.

“I mean, what is it with you Bobby? Who did this to you? Who ruined you? Who broke you so badly, that you turned into this morbidly-obese version of the shit-demon?”

“Was it your mother, Bobby? Did she do this to you? Did she neglect you? Did she not hug you enough? Did she hug you too much?”

“Or maybe it was your father, Bobby. Maybe he didn’t love you enough. Maybe he hit you. Maybe he was a drunk that smacked you and your mother upside the head after he drank away his paycheck.”

“WHO DID THIS TO YOU?!” He asks, screaming at the top of his lungs.

The rage still in his eyes.

“Without the answer to that question, Bobby…I can’t fix you. Without the answer to that question, there is no saving you. That is the truth of the matter,” he says, licking his chapped lips again.

“And unfortunately, for you Bobby…Steve Solex has completely lost his mind, and in doing so, he has once again raised me from the dead,” he says, holding his arms up high in the air, again licking his lips. He goes to his knees, and stands up without ever lowering his hands. He stares up at the ceiling as dust particles reflect in the light around him.

“I AM BACK!”

He shouts, sending the room into a flurry of echoes.

“I AM THE MONSTER!”

“I AM THE DEMON!”

“I AM THE DEVASTATION!”

He lowers his arms and looks into the camera, his eyes empty and black.

“I AM … DOCTOR DEVASTATION!”

His body glistens with sweat as veins in his muscles bulge to capacity. The camera begins to zoom out.

Like a bat out of hell, Dr. Devastation runs toward the camera and reaches for it, just before the scene cuts to static and then to black.