[JT Midas]

 â€œMy name is JT Midas. Y’all might be wondering what it’s like to live like me, with more drinks than I can drink, and more money than I could possibly spend. Being a member of the Players Club might seem easy, but it ain’t all fun and games. Every day, we face difficult challenges and embark on impossible adventures that threaten our very lifestyles. Somehow, however, we always live to tell the tale. This is one of those stories.”

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The Outbreak
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“’Ey, bruh! Don’t be stingy wit’ it!” Hydro flashes me a frustrated glare, as I take a hard hit from his ceramic pipe. Although I could never describe the man as being stingy, Hydro definitely wore his impatience on his face when it came to smoking his weed.

“Shiiiiit,” I choke out in response, smoke bellowing out from my lips. “You’ve practically smoked two bowls to yourself in the past hour, and it’s not even noon yet. Quit whining!”

“I’m serious, bruh! You best not smoke all muh’ weed, dawg!”

We were chilling in the basement of the Midas Touch, because…well, what better things do I have to do? After handing down the reigns of the company to Johnny, I found myself in a predicament - What do I do with all this free time? Fortunately, I quickly realized, I also have more money than I know how to spend, so that helps. Lately, I have found myself more and more often sitting at the bar with a Jack & Coke. A little day drinking never hurt anyone, after all. Still, I think to myself, drawing in another long hit from the pipe, I need something more.

It was barely the beginning of another boring day, and I had a lot on my mind. I was still fresh off my loss to Gabriel, and now looked forward to a tag team match against Power Play. This would determine the new number one contenders for the SCW Tag Team Championship, which obviously would only be a step in the right direction for Caleb and me.  Then again, I wasn’t quite sure where Caleb’s head was right now. Soon, however, I would be too high to even care.

“Yo!” Hydro snatches the pipe out of my hand, just as I had raised it for a third consecutive hit. He thrusts his hand into his pocket, aggressively lighting the bowl of the pipe. I watch in bewilderment, as he takes quite possibly the largest hit I have ever seen, half-expecting his eyes to roll into the back and his face to turn blue. Instead, he proceeds to blow smoke rings from his mouth, as he passes the pipe back to me, muttering to himself. “God-damn babysittin’ ass mo’fucka…”

I take the pipe, anticipating my next hit. I can already feel that sensation of floating as I flame the lighter to the bowl.  As I take in another harsh hit, I’m suddenly overcome with a case of the giggles, and I choke in my laughter. Hydro giggles as well, that awkward, high-pitched squeak of his. Of course, this only serves to make me laugh harder, and I couldn’t tell you how long this lasted before slowly dying down. Eventually, though, the laughter subsided, and Hydro finally helped himself to the pipe.

It was in this state of mind that everything going on in my life; all the aches and the pains that come with my line of work, as well as the stress and that drama, just seemed so funny and unimportant to me. I remember watching a long, boring promo last week that Giana DiLuca cut to hype some match or something. I recall he spent an awful lot of time spewing a bunch of disgusting homosexual remarks about Caleb and me, and thinking about how small and petty the guy really is. Of course, Caleb and I aren’t gay, so his words do no harm to either of us. I just thought it was tasteless, and boring. We’re not in junior high anymore. When was the last time somebody truly thought they could hurt somebody by calling them gay? In this modern day, when gay and lesbian marriages are happening all over the country, it just don’t make any sense. Unfortunately, it almost feels as if that’s the only insult anybody in this company knows how to sling at us. I chuckle to myself, as I remember a Twitter exchange Caleb and I had with a couple inflated egos earlier.

Yeah, one could say I may spend just a bit too much time on Twitter. In fact, quite a few people have said that…over, and over again, actually. I’m starting to see a pattern here, as it seems like everybody I have faced so far seems to cling to the same subject matter when talking about me, or my brothers in the Players Club. Every week is the same promo in a different voice – You guys are attention whores. You guys must think you’re so cool and edgy. Are you sure you and Caleb aren’t gay? It’s obvious these so-called renegades and visionaries think they are the cream of the crop, when really they’re not crud on the bottom of the barrel. Eventually, though, SCW will catch on to these lame acts. They’ll realize they have nothing to offer but the same tired material every week, and they’ll come down from whatever high they’re on for these kids. I’ve seen it happen so many times already. These guys will stick around for a little bit until they realize nobody is buying the shit they’re trying to sell, and once that happens, they’ll tuck tail and run. Reputations tend to precede you in this industry. That’s why Players Club has a shot at becoming the next contenders for SCW gold, while all these guys have left are contracts that just ain’t worth the paper they’re printed on.

“Wha’? Wha’ happened?” Hydro is squinting at his phone, which is held out about an arm’s length away from his face. “Bruh, somethin’ wrong wit’ Caleb. He say he dyin’ or some shit. Here, read ‘dis.”

Realizing he won’t be handing the phone to me anytime soon, as he maintains his gaze on the small screen, I reach out and snatch it from his hands. His arms remain locked in position, as if he were still holding the device in his hands. I squint my eyes, struggling to stay focused on the tiny words as I read them aloud.

“'Dro, I’m at the hospital. The infection has spread and I’m afraid I don’t have much time left. It was nice knowing you. Take care of bae for me.'”

I try to make sense of what he’s saying, but at this point I should just be astounded that I can even form a coherent thought. I slide the phone back toward Hydro’s feet. He blinks as it hits his toe, and he reaches down to pick it up.

“Shit, I musta’ dropped it.” He holds the phone out to me. “Hey bruh, read ‘dis text from Caleb.”

“I just read it, fool!” I shake my head at Hydro, who pulls his arm away with a slight whimper. “He said he’s sick, and doesn’t have much time left. You know how he tends to overreact, though. He probably caught a cold or some shit.”

“Either that,” Hydro begins, a pensive tone to his now-raspy voice, “or he finally got it.”

“Finally got what?”

I raise an eyebrow at my friend. Hydro has this tendency to run away with these crazy conspiracy theories, so I always prepare myself for the worst. Of course, he didn’t let me down.

“The zombie virus,” he croaks, with a gulp.

“Th-the zombie virus?” I feel a shiver run down my spine, but I immediately shake it off. “Nah, that shit ain’t real. It’s all some made-up garbage for shitty TV dramas.”

“Really, bruh? How can you be sure?” Hydro narrows his eyes on me, as I start to ponder whether or not he could be right. “There gotta’ be some truth to ‘dat shit, man. Otherwise how they come up wit’ it all?”

A million different images raced through my head, and none of them were pretty. What if Caleb really had been infected? It wasn’t an idea that I cared to humor.

“I don’t know, man,” I try to shake the theory off my mind. “I’m pretty sure he would have told us. Besides, how do you even catch a zombie virus?”

“I dunno’, bruh. It could be anythin’, if ya’ think ‘bout it. For all ya’ know, that shit coulda’ spread to the whole town by now.”

“…The whole city is infected?” My eyes widen, and I feel a lump in my throat. “Shit, Hydro, I can’t die right now, man! I’m too handsome to be a zombie!"

“I know, bruh,” Hydro shrugs. “I can’t even. I jus' can’t.”

“Well, shit,” I begin, but I’m not quite sure what I can even say. Losing Caleb would be hard enough as it is, but now we’re dealing with a full-on outbreak. I feel a bead of sweat drip from my forehead, as I realize this may be the biggest challenge I have ever been faced with. “We got enough alcohol in this bar to last us at least…three days. How are we doing for weed?”

“Not good, bruh,” he grunts, as he takes a hit from the bowl he had just lit. “That ain’t all, tho’. I’m hungry as fuuuuuck, man. We gon’ need some grub!”

I watch nervously as Hydro slowly staggers to his feet and approaches the stairs. He grabs his coat and immediately reaches into one of the front pockets, pulling out a bottle of eye drops. He applies a drop to each eye, before handing the bottle to me.

“If I ain’t back in an hour,” he warns me, placing a hand on my shoulder, “I ain’t comin’ back. ‘Dat means it up to you, bruh. Take care o’ yo’ self, JT.”

Hydro turns away, slowly climbing the stairs and exiting through the door. I hear his footsteps overhead, slowly fading out, as I’m left to fend for myself, all alone, in the cold, dark basement of The Midas Touch.

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Sole Survivor
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"Listen to my story. This...may be my last chance."

I stared into the camera of my iPhone, recording what could very well be the last promo I ever cut in my life.

"It's been three hours since Hydro left for the store, and I'm afraid now that he won't be coming back at all now. That means it's only me. If I'm wrong, and you're watching this, then that means I'm actually dead. As of the time of this recording, however, I may be the only man alive. Therefore, consider this video the thoughts of a dying man.

This coming Sunday, I am scheduled to compete alongside my friend, Caleb Houston, who coincidentally is patient-zero in this whole viral outbreak, in a sanctioned SCW tag team wrestling match against Ringo and Giani, collectively known as the Power Couple. These two clowns have had it out for Caleb and me ever since the comments I made on Twitter about Ringo's gigantic head. While I may have been a little out of line in making those comments, I'd be lying if I said they weren't funny, so I can't really apologize for saying it. What I can apologize for, is the absolute beating I won't be able to give Ringo and Giani at Climax Control. Let's be honest, though...the match would have been a total wash! Everybody knows that Caleb and I would make quick work of those tools, just like we did our first opponents just two weeks ago. That being said, I would just like to get a few random thoughts off my head."

I take in a deep breath, and slowly let it out.

"First, I would like to say...Hydro, I'm sorry. I shouldn't have let you go out there alone, baby bro. It's my fault this happened to you. I should have been there for you when you needed me most, and I wasn't. I'm so, so sorry. I know that if you had made it back here in one piece, there's no doubt you would have gone on to kick Gavin Stephen's smug ass on Sunday. That's an honor that I robbed you of, a moment you will never be able to get back. I can't give you back your life, Trey Porter, but I can keep you alive in my memory, which probably is only another hour or so anyway. May God bless your soul, baby bro.

Caleb Houston, you were my oldest and closest friend. You've felt more like a brother to me than anything, and I want you to know just how much I appreciate that. We've been there for each through it all, bro...both good times and bad times."

I sniffle, and wipe a tear away from my eye.

"Remember that one time in PWO, when we slipped ecstasy into Maverick's 7-Up, and he spent the rest of the night licking his pet raccoon, Gilligan? He coughed up the nastiest hairball I've ever seen that night. What about in EWA, when we wrestled our first ever match as a team, and beat the piss out of Shane Knight and Michael Santiago? Santiago was so scared that you'd kick his teeth out, he actually shit himself right there in the ring. Everybody was laughing so hard that night, except for you, Caleb...because you ended up kicking him, after all. I will have some of the fondest memories of you, bro. I just hope you can forgive me when I'm forced to shoot you through the head.

Gavin Stephens...fuck you, Gavin Stephens.

Johnny, my good friend, I hope you found peace in your life. I know it couldn't have been easy, dealing with my antics and over-the-top drinking these past few years. I never really appreciated just how much you would put up with for me, especially after surviving a gunshot earlier in the year. To be fair, though, you snore pretty fucking loud, and some nights when I crash at the bar, I can't get a wink of sleep because it sounds like someone performing an exorcism in your bedroom. So, I guess we're actually even. Still, I wish you could have lived through the outbreak long enough to see me, JT Midas...the sole survivor."

I look down at my feet for a moment, realizing now that saying goodbye is much harder than I could have imagined. I won't get another chance, though. It's now or never. I look back up at my phone, stoic, but focused.

"That leaves me with just one last order of business to take care of. Ringo, Giani, if by some twisted miracle of life you two happen to survive this viral pandemic, just know that this was never personal between you and me. I ain't never had a problem with either of you, in all the four weeks I have known you. Just because Ringo's got a huge hot-air balloon for a head, and Giani looks like he bathes in baby oil, that don't mean a thing. You two have been around SCW much longer than I have, and I'm sure somebody's gotta' like you two! Just please, when all is said and done, know that our little feud was never about hatred. I just really can't get over how big Ringo's head is.

Make no mistake about it, though. This Sunday, at Climax Control, Caleb and I would have beaten you two, and gone on to become the next SCW Tag Team Champions. Y'all know it, and I know it, and Caleb knows it, too. I don't think there was ever a human being on this earth who believed either of you would stand a snowball's chance in hell at beating any member of the Players Club, and it's a shame that we won't be able to demonstrate just how pathetically over-matched you two would be against the two of us. Regardless, you two were always good for a laugh or two, albeit at your own expense. I think I will miss you most of all, Power Couple."

At that moment, I heard a rattling at the door. Fuck, I think to myself, they've finally found me! I slowly creep up toward the door, slowly making my way up the stairs. The door slowly opens outward, and I lunge at the looming figure before me.

"Not today, you undead fuck!"

I tackle the zombie to the floor, and he collides with a sick thud. Grocery bags filled with all kinds of goodies are suddenly tossed aside, and I quickly realize the mistake I've made.

"Hydro, it's you!" I take my friend in a warm embrace, although he's unconscious from the collision. I look up, as Johnny stands over me, arms folded, with a scowl on his face. I return a sheepish grin, as I glance around at the various snacks that lie scattered on the floor. "Hey, is that a pudding pack?"

I grab a small cup from the floor, peeling open the cover and scooping some chocolate pudding into my mouth. Surviving the zombie apocalypse had never been so delicous!