The Dead Don’t…

The Dead Don’t…

Posted on April 7, 2023 at 10:02 pm by Scottywood

The Dead Don’t Die

So where the fuck do I start?

Alcatraz?  October 30th, 2022?

Figured you’d still have some questions about that.

Yeah, I died.  Scott Stevens killed me.  I thought I made that clear at Chaos in Chicago. I’m not gonna try and pull the wool over your eyes and say that I had some Ace of Spades up my sleeve and I escaped just before the explosion.  I was nailed to a fucking cross.  I was incapacitated to a point where I let that fucking bastard Scott Stevens place spikes through my hands and feet.  You think if I had the energy to escape that I would have let him fucking do that to me?

So I guess the question is… death, how was it?  Pearly gates or an fiery eternal damnation?

Do you really even have to ask?

There is not a single fucking person here in HOW that when it comes time to be judged, is going anywhere other than to the deepest levels of fucking Hell.  Especially the man who made crucifixion matches a thing in HOW… I mean who else in HOW has a trademark match?  Chris Kostoff and his House of Pain… and that’s where it ends.  Pretty damn good company I’d say.

Really need to meet up with his kid…

I also have adopted the name The Anti-Christ… so I think it’s pretty safe to say the big guy upstairs doesn’t want me anywhere near him.  People don’t like it when ya pick on their sons.

Speaking of sons… Mike Best gotta ride my coattails and return too.  Motherfucker already used his rose from the dead card!  Even if that was all bullshit, just like that other dude.  I can feel the flames getting hotter.  Wait, what?  He didn’t die this time, just retired?  Well that tracks, no one stays retired from HOW.  Just like dead I suppose too.  Anyhow, welcome back Mike, America will be handing that World Title over to you next week I suppose.

Yep, already stirring shit up.  If you’re gonna live, ya might as well do it on the edge.

Now I’m not gonna get into all the details over the past few months.  Plus now that I am gone… now that I am back, it all is getting fuzzy.  Can’t be letting all those secrets of the afterlife out I suppose.  But one thing I do know, is when you are someone like myself… when you have some pull down there… you can make some deals to come back.  To continue on with things that were not finished.

I’m not talking about haunting… we don’t need to get the fucking Ghost Hunters in the arena.  My body is one hundred percent real… and it feels as good as it did when I joined HOW.  I mean if you’re gonna make a deal with The Devil… I’m not gonna come back in that old-ass, beaten to fuck body I had.  Plus Stevens blew the shit fuck out of it.

So I’m back… and I’m ready to make the most out of my return as the biggest match of the year in HOW looms ahead of us… War Games.  A match that I could have easily just had myself put into.  As not only having connections with The Devil, I have connections with GOD too.  Of HOW of course… the other one doesn’t answer any of my fucking calls.  But instead of relying on those connections, I decided to prove myself by facing off against one of HOW’s biggest stars.  A man who has a bright future of reaching places no one else in HOW ever will.  Facing off against Marvolo will prove without a shadow of a doubt that Scottywood, The Hardcore Artist, is back and better than ever!

I wanted a true test in my first match back in HOW and fuck… this one is going to take every bit of the fifteen years of experience in HOW and twenty-four as a wrestler to pick up the W.  Since I have left… or was murdered by a delusional Texan… sorry, that was redundant.  Since then, the level of competition here in HOW has risen to new heights.

But if he thinks that he can stop me with a “Touch of Death”… well he is going to be for quite the surprise.  Because if full on death can’t stop me Marvolo… fucking eh, that name reminds me too much of… No!  Don’t say his name.  He’s gets all pissy when you say his name and comes back out from the rocks he hides under on his fucking island.  Fuck him… and fuck you too Marvolo.  Here is a quarter, go get a fucking step stool, dial up the six one nine on a pay phone and beg someone who actually stands a chance to come and fight me instead.

I am literally bringing Hell to HOW and you Marvolo are the unlucky son of a bitch that is going to be burned first as I bring the HOT to HOTv… or Heat, but HEATv just doesn’t have a good ring to it.  Give Lee credit where it’s due, he’s good at naming shit.  So get ready to feel the HOT!


The Dead Don’t Sleep

It’s a dark ass hotel room in Tulsa, Oklahoma.  It could be night or day… everything is dark and lifeless in Oklahoma.  Seriously, what the fuck is the point of this state… and why the fuck is HOW wasting time acknowledging their existence?  But… here we are at three in the morning.

Nothing good happens when your awake and laying in bed at three in the fucking morning.  Now if you’re at the bar at three in the morning, shit is going great… and you’re having a Hell of a  night.  But if you’re in bed, alone… and awake.  Shit ain’t going well, something is wrong.

After spending months in the underworld, the mind, the soul… it changes.  Even as The Anti-Christ and having it on easy street, it fucks with you.  So returning to Earth… among the living… it’s not easy.

I haven’t slept a minute since I have returned.

It’s fucking weird.  No matter how much beer I down… I can’t even pass out.  I mean it makes for some pretty epic nights where I try to put that Andre record to shame… but being awake twenty-four seven… 

Yet here I sit, laying in bed, thinking that maybe tonight is gonna be the night I get even a few minutes of shut eye.  They call it insanity… well insomnia… but insanity thinking that something will change… that I will get a different result tonight.

Wonder if Carey is up at three am… eh, let’s see, her fault if she doesn’t have do not disturb on.

Reaching over to my iPhone, I dial up Carey… and it rings… and rings… and fucking rings. 

What the fuck Carey, again when I need you, like when Steven was fucking murdering me…

Isn’t she suffering her own mental shit right now… because of your death?

Oh yeah… her head is more fucked up than mine right now.

Maybe call her daughter?  See if she can wake Carey up?  What is her name… Majaharana?  Magicmikea?  Manicapana?  Fucking eh Carey, can’t you name your kids normal shit!

Not being able to sleep sucks… but being dead sucks even more.  Would you take eternal life if it meant you could never sleep.  Sure it sounds like a deal now, but livinging forever… can be it’s own torture.  I’m not saying I got eternal life.  There is even a limit on what The Devil can deal out.  

It’s something I need to adapt to.  I mean after some forty plus  years of going to sleep at night… it’s a hard habit to break.  Harder than it will be to break that mid… little… Marvolo in half and sell the pieces as quarters.

But at some point we need to talk Carey.  From what I’ve heard you didn’t take my death well.  Which while I appreciate the grieving… you needed to get over that shit and “Carey” on with business.  You knew you the fuck I was and the kind of shit I got into.  Was it not a surprise that it would finally catch up with me?

“Scotty” voices in your head?  Like possessing your body?  I’m not gonna get into all of that shit Carey, but I think it’s safe to say that you seriously needed some help over the last couple months.  Like reaching out to Frankie.  You think he wasn’t devastated over the loss of his father?

Ok… not the time or place to dive into this… not at three in the fucking morning.  Fucking eh, I don’t think I ever experienced this time of day when I was sober… well not since I came back to life.  Though it hasn’t been from a lack of trying.  You don’t even wanna imagine what my bar tab was tonight, just trying to get drunk enough to pass out.  Fuck… I’d take blacking out at this point because it would be close enough to sleeping.

Nothing in this world… or the underworld is for free.  There is always a price to pay for everything.  And coming back from the dead… oh believe me there will be a hefty price to pay for that shit.

So Marv… fuck, I still gotta double check that shit everytime I say it so I don’t say Marvelous.  Marvolo, I paid a big ass price to come back.  So please trust that I am not going to waste that shit and not make a statement at your fucking expense in that ring come Chaos.  I might not have any idea what is going on in HOW these days… and honestly, I don’t really care.  All I need to know is that there is someone across from me in that ring… and that I am going to put them through absolute Hell.

You all might think this is some kind of fucking joke.  That I am trying to fool you all.  That I spent the months away getting plastic surgery and hair extensions.  I really could care less what all you fucking tools think.  Your opinions literally mean less than donkey cum to me.  Believe whatever the fuck you want.  Meanwhile I’ll be here, doing what I always do… and that is causing fucking anarchy and putting anyone who dares step in the ring with me through the worst pain in their lives.

Just try to fly around this ring Marvolo… and I’ll chop your fucking legs off an make you less mobile than Stephen Hawkin.  This is not gonna be some technical showcase… a high flying acrobatic masterpiece… it’s gonna be a fucking train wreck… and you are gonna be the train.  I am going to show you… and remind everyone in HOW, just who the fuck The Hardcore Artist was.  Then, officially, War Games will have its dose of anarchy that it deserves.  If you thought shit was wild in HOW before… then just you fucking wait.

I’ve got twenty-four a day to dream shit up in this fucked up mess of a brain.  You’re all fucked… So fucking fucked.  Welcome to literal Hell on Earth.