Post by Dandy DiVito on Nov 27, 2021 2:03:13 GMT -5
Dandy sat on the visitor’s side of the desk in the still silence of the office space he’d known most of his life.
Each little touch of the room screamed of class and sophistication. The visual splendor of built-in bookshelves that surrounded a mahogany desk. The texture of well-cared-for leather chairs. The lingering aroma of the finest cigars money can buy. Everything - every single part of the experience of being here - brought years of memories crashing back like a wave cresting atop a first-timer on a surfboard.
Dandy’s eyes fell upon a frame that he’d seen seemingly a thousand times before, but this time, as he saw it, a pained, hesitant smile crept across his face and he reached for the photo as he closed his eyes. Eyes still closed, Dandy held the photo in his lap as his fingers caressed the intricate textured frame and he vividly recalled the image that was awaiting him once he decided to look.
As he opened his eyes, Dandy saw exactly what he’d imagined before.
What’s the diff’rence ‘tween a one time champ and a two time champ? Apparently, less than 2 and a half minutes. You got motherfuckers in this company who don’t know how to handle they failings. They don’t know how to own when they got got. Well...that ain’t me, y’all.
Kyle Kemp played the game dirtier than a street walker who fucks on the ground, but he got me. He took the highs of my second crowning moment, and he cashed in on me.
That’s life right now, ain’t it? Dandy thinks he’s got that happy moment right in his hands and then…the fuckin’ bubble bursts. I’m left holdin’ the remains of what I used ta know was a sure thing. That fuckin’ title run. The fuckin’ kid. The hope an’ promise of bein’ anythin’ mo’ than the fuckin Shitheel Dandy DiVito. All of that shit is made outta fuckin’ smoke an’ mirrors. When the fuckin’ air clears, I’m just left starin’ deep into myself an’ seein’ the fuckin’ constant…
I am Dandy DiVito.
When e’rythin’s fallin’ away, I can either try in vain to save it or I can realize I can just fuckin’ let it go.
I am Dandy DiVito.
There ain’t nothin’ ‘bout me needs to be saved.
There ain’t nothin’ ‘bout me needs to be to fixed.
There ain’t nothin’ ‘bout me that needs to change.
I do my best work when I get my fuckin’ hands dirty an’ do what I gotta do by any fuckin’ means necessary. This company is gonna fuckin’ regret the day that I remembered that shit.
This ain’t the story of a man that tucks tail an’ gives up when shit hits the fan. No, no. This? This shit’s the story of a mo’fucka who took e’rythin’ the world was fuckin’ ‘im wit’ and he fucked back.
Turmoil is the callback. It’s the second comin’ of the baddest fuckin’ man this place eva seen. It’s when I take back what’s mine and give up on this fuckin’ nonsense ‘bout bein’ better. They wasn’t nothin’ wrong wit’ Dandy DiVito befo’; I was already fuckin’ better.
Better than Jill Park.
Better than Carter Shaw.
Better than Kyle Kemp.
At Turmoil, I’ma show the world. I’ma prove that shit. Again.
A knock at the door broke Dandy’s concentration on the photo. He swiftly moved in an attempt to put the frame back in place as the door knob turned and the door itself swung open.
“I’m sorry to keep you waiting, son. You know how business can be. It’s...it’s so good to finally see you again… Winston.”
Dandy stood upon seeing his father for the first time in what felt like ages and the emotions of the whole moment overwhelmed him. Dandy’s eyes welled up as he approached his dad and wrapped the old man up in a hug.
“Am I a grandfather yet?”
The question crushed Dandy. In the midst of everything happening as it had, Dandy hadn’t been able to communicate the enormous left turn that was inflicted upon him by Yaz’s… Dishonesty? Confusion? Regardless of the circumstances at play, it hardly mattered. In a matter of moments, Dandy had gone from an expectant father to quasi-cuckold, and up to that very second, he had simply not taken even a moment to process the disappointment and grieve his loss. Dandy buried his face in his father’s shoulder and sobbed.
“The kid...he...he wasn’t mine, Pop.”
Mr. DiVito wrapped his arms around his son and gave Dandy a moment to release the overwhelming sadness that overtook him.
“Oh, my boy, I’m so sorry.”
What are you gonna do at Turmoil, Jill? Are you gonna get ill under the pressure or are you gonna FINALLY fuckin’ realize that you forced your way into a situation that never fuckin’ involved you in the first place, and that you did all a’ that shit just so you could finish fourth and be lost to time as the answer to a trivia question: Which member of the Action Wrestlin’ roster became an also-ran with three-time champion Dandy DiVito and former World Champs Carter Shaw and Kyle Kemp? Mo’fuckas is gon’ be sittin’ at bars ‘cross America rackin’ they goddamn brains over that li’l bit a’ AW history only to respond “who?” when the host tells ‘em the answer.
I mean, shit, Jilly... Yo’ whole fuckin schtick was built fo’ the world of that reality tv. I mean, you know that! That’s why you tried so hard to get that shit lined up...an’ you did it, right? License to Jill. You prolly sat back an’ dreamed about makin’ that the tippy top of the pile a’ shit that is that whole fuckin genre of garbage, but damn, you sure gave up on that fuckin’ drive to be the best quick, didn’tcha? I mean, shit, Jilly, how you gon’ give up on yo’ dream that quick, gurl? How you gonna chase an’ chase an’ chase and then just shrug an’ walk away? You like a potty trainin’ toddler who wakes up promsin’ theyself that today - TODAY! - is the day you shit in the big people’s toilet but by 9AM, you already wallowin’ in yo’ drawers fulla shit so you just stick wit’ it until that stank is unavoidable. Maybe the metaphor is gettin’ away from me here, but Jill, the idea here is stable: at some point, yo’ dreams went from flyin’ high to path-a’-least-resistance.
But that’s just you in one tightly wrapped li’l package, ain’t it, Jilly Bean? That shit speaks to who you is like you fuckin’ gave it a microphone, don’t it? You do all yo fuckin’ mean gurl shit and play like you ridin’ high above e’rybody else but when the goin’ gets tough an’ you don’t get what you want right away, ya just give up on them goals an’ pretend you never had ‘em. You Schrodinger’s fuckin’ Bum, Jilly. At all fuckin’ times, you constantly tryin’ ta be that focused sumbitch who knows exactly what she wants AND an aloof fuckin’ pariah who ain’t give no shits ‘bout nothin’ at all. If you always playin’ both sides, win, lose, or draw, you’ll always come out on top, right, Jilly Bean?
Well, fuck that shit. It’s spineless. It’s fuckin’ coward shit, Jill. And while I wish I could say “you better than that,” I’m promisin’ myself these days to tell the fuckin’ truth even when they uncomfortable: you AIN’T better than that. Half in an’ half out at all times ain’t no fuckin’ way to live, let alone make a fuckin’ mark on this company or this world, Jilly. Yo’ fuckin insistance on livin’ life straddlin’ the fuckin’ fence at all fuckin’ times is really what’s gon’ mean yo’ whole ass career’s gon’ go the way of your Turmoil: Jill Park gon’ be a straight up fuckin’ forgettable li’l afterthought.
‘Cause let’s be real, Jilly...this is a moment you gotta make the most a’. If Carter Shaw loses, he’s still a man who not only won the world title but held on to that mo’fucka with e’rything he had in ‘im fo’ months. If Kyle Kemp loses, he’s still the first eva Action Wrestlin’ Grand Slam Champ. If I lose, I’m still the two time fuckin’ champ who spent more time holdin’ gold in this company than he spent without it. You though? Man, Jill...
An’ don’t get me wrong, Jilly, I ain’t sayin’ you got no future here. You clearly do. What I am sayin’ though? Yo’ future don’t start now. You gon’ get a taste of what could be fo’ you at Turmoil, but you the whole fuckin’ meal ain’t for you yet.
As Mr. DiVito broke the hug, he took Dandy’s face in his hands and looked deeply into his eldest’s eyes.
“So... what are we gonna do about it, Winston?”
Dandy’s eyes narrowed as he stared back at his father. Dandy knew the kind of violence his father was almost certainly suggesting, he knew his father was a feared leader within his circles world - a man one simply did not cross - and he knew that if was suggesting something this drastic, it would be all but impossible to talk his father out of a step like this. As Dandy edged toward speaking, the sound of someone taking a fresh chomp out of a crisp apple stole his attention toward the open door.
“Oh, hi, Dick.”
The man in the doorway swallowed the apple in his mouth as he let out a pissed off sigh.
“You know damn well that it’s Richard, Winston.”
Dandy’s hackles perked right up.
“And you know it’s Dandy, Dick.”
Mr. DiVito’s blood pressure spiked.
“Boys, Christ! Can’t you even be in the same room for 12 seconds without this shit?”
“Don’t blame me, dad. I’m not the one who’s about to let some lying, cheating gash get away with her crimes. Oh, no. No. No! That would be your boy, Winston, wouldn’t it?”
Dandy snarled back at his younger brother Richard.
“What are you even doing here, Dick?”
“What? It’s Thanksgiving! You’re allowed to visit but I’m not?”
“We both know you ain’t jus’ visitin’.”
We can’t all be rolling in cash by embarrassing the family name as a pro-wrestling cuck, now can we?”
Dandy’s eye contact snapped back to his father whose own eyes were burning with furious anger.
“ENOUGH! Take a damn seat, and bury this shit. Now!”
Richard and Dandy each approached a seat at the desk and popped themselves down as directed. Mr. DiVito looked at Dandy first.
“Just because I’m tabling the conversation about how we respond to what that bitch did to you doesn’t mean it’s over, you got me?”
Dandy hesitantly nodded, and Mr. DiVito turned his attention to Richard.
“And you...if I hear you call your brother that again…”
“Call him what? A cuck?”
Mr. DiVito stared at his younger son with a steely gaze that sent an icy chill up Richard’s spine.
Now, Shaw, I hope you don’t take my message to Jill as a compliment to yaself. It ain’t. When it comes to you and Kemp, I couldn’t fuckin’ bear to drop a compliment without lettin’ the world see the contents of my fuckin’ guts either pourin’ outta me when I threw up or pourin’ outta me when I dragged that short sword ‘cross my guts like a fuckin’ shamed samurai. Are you a competent worker in the ring? Sure. Are you worthy of praise? FUCK! NO!
What I DO have for you Shaw, is simple: beating you was a top fuckin’ five career moment for me. I can hear what you’d say without you havin’ to say it. “It was a top five moment when you beat me, but when I beat you it was just another Monday.” But we both know you entirely full a’ shit, version-of-Carter-that’s-only-clever-in-my-fuckin’-imaginination... ‘Cause at the end of the fuckin’ day, you ain’t never done to me what I done to you, have you? When I went over you, I beat yo’ ass for the strap! You ain’t never gone over my ass for the strap or anything else that fuckin’ mattered beyond pride. Regardless of how the night ended eventually after I punked you the fuck out, I got the best of you when it fuckin’ counted. Nobody gives a fuck ‘bout you winnin’ on a throwaway show or some fuckin’ midcard match up that was midcard ‘cause nothin’ was on the fuckin’ line, but from now until the end of fuckin’ time, that title record will always read the same way, mo’fucka...
Dandy defeats Shaw in a First Blood match to recapture the World Championship title!
And now? Since Kemp decided to stick his stupid li’l nose into our shit again, I have the fuckin’ opportunity to do it all over again. If I’m bein’ real fuckin’ honest witchu, Shaw, I simply cannot fuckin’ wait. ‘Cause you spent months now - an endless stream of weeks on weeks on weeks - definin’ yo’self by what you was doin’ against me, and what was I up to? Tellin’ you to suck my dick. You was lettin’ yo win-loss record over ol’ Dandy DiVito carry yo’ fuckin’ water, and me? I was drawin’ my aim, takin’ my time, and never - I mean NEVER - lettin’ you fuckin’ win shit even if yo’ hand was raised. Maybe you learned it better the last time we squared off than you ever did before, but no matter if yo’ hand ends up raised after you face me, you didn’t fuckin’ beat me an’ you sure as shit didn’t win nothin’ on a moral level. Sayin’ you beat Dandy DiVito is like sayin’ the Pacific Fleet beat the Japanese at Pearl Harbor. Sure, I might wipe myself out in the process, but when I’m done, goddamn it, son, you can’t look at this kamikaze an’ even fuckin’ try to take credit for my demise when e’rythin’ that mattered to you before is sunk into the ocean or smolderin’. I s’ppose the comparison falls apart when you look at the war effort past 1941 though, ‘cause while Turmoil is gonna be our fuckin’ Hiroshma, this time, the kamikazi’s gonna be nukin’ yo ass, Shaw. I’m walkin’ outta Chicago a THREE TIME champ, and you gon’ be left wichita dick swingin’ in the breeze.
Now don’t get me wrong, Shaw, you had a good year an’ all. You the championship and stood on top a’ the world for the better part of the year. You the 1908 Cubbies, and me? I’m yo fuckin’ Billy Goat, baby, and it’s fuckin’ curse time!
So let’s be clear ‘bout how I play the fuckin’ game, man. When I wanna own a mo’fucka, I ain’t one to let up. When I want to get revenge, I ain’t lettin’ a few bumps in the road turn me into the dejected li’l bitch that Jilly Bean lets herself become. When you show up in my fuckin’ yard, I let the dog off the chain. And for this whole fuckin’ year, Shaw, you been hopin’ you could make me stop, hopin’ a win here or a win there would break me, prayin’ that my dog done had them teeth removed. Well, the bad news for you, Shaw, is the good news for me: Dandy DiVito don’t fuckin’ stop, he don’t break, an’ he gave that dog some fuckin’ steel chompers, baby.
Come Turmoil, I’ma sink them fuckin’ teeth into yo ass an’ I ain’t stoppin’ ‘til I take e’ry goddamn thing I want, ya fuck.
Several moments had passed since Mr. DiVito shut down Richard’s needling of Dandy and all three men shared the stillness of the same office tucked away in a quiet corner of the DiVito family estate. Mr. DiVito probed for reactions to an offer he’d laid out for his boys.
“Thoughts?”
Richard scoffed, and Dandy stayed silently immersed in his thoughts. Richard looked to his older brother and shook his head.
“Nothing, huh? The mouthiest shithead in the world’s got nothing to say? Never thought I’d see the day.”
Mr. DiVito’s eyes narrow in anger at Richard but as his gaze turns toward Dandy, the anger dissipates.
“While I do not echo your brother’s rambling, I do want to know what’s in your mind, son.”
“I guess the biggest thought here, pop, is a question.”
“Ok, go ahead.”
“After all that work you did tryin’ to convince me to fuckin’ leave wrestlin’ ‘cause it was bad for the family name… now you want all of us involved in it?”
Mr. DiVito smirked before answering pensively.
“I...have...regrets about that, Winston.”
Dandy’s eyebrows perked up at the closest thing his old man had ever gotten to an apology. The subtle reaction was not lost on Mr. DiVito, who immediately moved to explain himself.
“I’ve seen what you’re capable of, son. When I was at your throat about leaving before, I thought I was saving you from a place you didn’t fit, from a business in which you just didn’t belong.”
“And now you changed yo’ mind, huh?”
“Bluntly? Yes. I refused to watch you for the first year or two, but when your mother wore me down and got me to sit down for Evolution this year, I saw you in your element. I saw someone who was comfortable and at home in his work. I saw you happier than I’ve ever seen you before.”
“You saw me win.”
Richard laughed dismissively, and Dandy’s attention snapped to his little brother.
“What? I can’t laugh?”
Mr. DiVito waved off Richard and returned his focus to his older son.
“Instead of getting you out, it’s time we lean in. The wrestling world has struggled to handle one DiVito. Let’s see how it handles all of us, huh?”
Dandy contemplated the pitch while Richard reflexively responded.
“So, let me make sure I’m hearing you right, ok? You want me to waltz into that wolf’s den and just do…what exactly?”
Dandy shook his head at his brother’s insolence. Mr. DiVito steeled his resolve and spoke through gritted teeth.
“Richard, this is merely the expansion of the DiVito Empire into territory that’s new to some of us…”
Mr. DiVito gestured toward Dandy.
“...but certainly not all of us.”
Mr. DiVito’s attention returned to Richard.
“You and I? We’re there to secure support as needed, to be involved as we can, and to stay out of the way when that’s what’s called for. We manage reinforcements. We manage the presentation. We? We replace the whore.”
So if Jill doesn’t have what it takes ta go all in, Shaw don’t have the sense ta realize I beat his ass when it mattered...what does that mean Kemp’s flaw is?
Is it that the sombitch took the shortcut to the World Title that even Carter Shaw’s bb-sized nuts was too big to take? Nahhhhhhh. I’da done worse had I had the fuckin’ case.
Is it that he had the fuckin’ world in his hands wit’ The Followin’ but let heself get Papa Gapetto’ed into throwin’ the whole fuckin’ operation away? Nahhhhhhh. I played mo’ than a small role in that bullshit, too.
Is it that he just don’t fuckin’ know when to leave well enough alone and move on wit’ his shit? DING DING DING! We got us a right answer, y’all.
Kemp, if you had half a fuckin’ brain in yo head, as soon as I beat the dogshit outta you at Evolution, you woulda tucked tail and walked off into the sun set when it came to gettin’ yo’self involved in MY fuckin’ business. But yet, here we are, and at Execution, you made the short fuckin’ sighted call to butt in on my shit AGAIN and to force yo touch onto the issues that Shaw and me were perfectly capable of workin’ out all on our own.
Now don’t get me wrong, I’m pretty well convinced you wouldn’t a’ come at me like you did if I didn’t have the gold, ‘cause while you ain’t got much for brains, Kemp, you ain’t dumb enough to tangle wit’ yo’ superior for no fuckin’ reason. An’ make no fuckin’ bones, man, you know damn well I’m yo’ fuckin’ superior.
I took yo fuckin’ stable and dissolved it. I took yo fuckin’ support system when you shit all over it. I took yo fuckin’ half of the tag titles we defended for the majority of a fuckin’ year and put it on someone I had fuckin’ hated my whole fuckin’ career, ‘cause whether I hated him or not, I knew where his fuckin’ heart was, what he was capable of, and goddamn it...I knew he was not someone who could be manipulated into turning on the fuckin’ people who helped to make him someone who could compete for an accolade like All In or be a on any particular title’s Mount Rushmore.
I hated Sam Kidsgrove, Kemp, and even still, I knew he was a better man than you. Even if my tag run with Sam didn’t last as long or didn’t bring the highs of the run we had as The Followin’, I upgraded when I moved on to Sam, Kemp. You? You lost yo’self. Sure, you won All In. Sure, you’re the defending champ and enterin’ Turmoil holdin’ MY title. But you still ain’t nothin’ mo’ than the fuckin’ shell of a man who couldn’t keep a pack of fuckin’ hungry dogs together when it shoulda been time for us to feast. You ain’t nothin’ mo’ than the lost li’l boy that lucked into findin’ 20 bucks blowin’ in the wind.
I ain’t judgin’ you for bein’ real wit’ yo’self and knowin’ you had to come for me when I’d just been through a war. I ain’t even judgin’ you for savin’ Lissie from the Hall of Shame for her collective 8 minutes of combined title runs by throwin’ me to the wolves with my 2 fuckin’ minutes an’ 11 fuckin’ second run. In order fo’ me to judge you fo’ anything really, I’d need to give a fuck about you, and when I’m honest witchu, I...I just fuckin’ don’t.
All in all, Kemp, I’m takin’ my fuckin’ title back at Turmoil, because you ain’t fuckin’ man enough to stop me when I know you comin’. I don’t know if I’ma be the mo’fucka who eliminates e’rybody, but I can promise you this: I’m gonna have my fuckin’ hand raised at the end a’ the night, and Dandy fuckin’ DiVito will have clawed and scratched to reclaim his seat at the fuckin’ top of the mountain for the THIRD time, and you, Kemp? You’ll become the latest member of the sons-a-bitches I dethroned fo’ the fuckin’ strap.
I’ma get mine again. What goes ‘round comes ‘round...
BITCH!
Back in the DiVito mansion, Mr. DiVito is putting the capstone on the family meeting.
“DiVitos don’t roll over. DiVitos don’t give in. DiVitos sure as FUCK don’t give up. We recoup. We reload. The empire lives on. You got me?”
Dandy and Richard looked directly at one another with a fresh sense of excitement settling in. They both smiled with a snarl.
“Fuck yeah.”
“I couldn’t say no to doing what’s best for the family business, could I?”