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It Wasn’t Me

Human Resources. 

“I must say, I’m surprised to be meeting with you, Mr. Sovereign. Old School Wrestling has a strict invitation only policy. We don’t meet with talent upon their request.”

“I’m not just talent, babe,” I scoff. “I’m the best there is, the best there was and the best there ever will be. Besides, have you seen my cock? It’s massive.”

She rolls her eyes.

“Well, you wanted an interview with us and here you are. What you probably don’t know about Old School Wrestling is that before invitations are sent out, we do our research,” she says, browsing a document in her hand that’s as thick as my cock. “And boy, did we do our research.”

She turns the first page.

“Let me tell you what we found.”

I’m smiling. I’m always smiling.

“It says here that you were caught on a counter with two leprechauns, Knick and Knack, eating what was believed – or hoped to be peanut butter out of their bottoms.”

“It wasn’t me.”

“Hm, what about when you were found humping the gap between two sofa cushions belonging to Felix Foley’s mom?”

“It wasn’t me.”

“Or when you were caught with a bucket of cocaine turned congealed powder in the shower of Jackson Cade?”

“It wasn’t me.”

“You were caught on camera outside of Olympus masturbating onto a picture of Gemini.”

“It wasn’t me.”

“Are you telling me those clearly visible marks on your shoulder from when you approached Grimskull and scratched yourself erotically to prove that you can handle pain, aren’t you?”

“It wasn’t me.”

“What about when you wrote down that you did those things on this ridiculous application form you’ve concocted with what looks to be red crayon?”

“It wasn’t me.”

“Look Mr. Sovereign, you’ve been caught red handed. Literally.”

My hands are covered in red.


It…. wasn’t….. me? I don’t think she buys it.

“Do you think any of the things I’ve said here today are the makings of an Old School Wrestling competitor?”

“Okay, so you caught me on the counter. You caught me banging on the sofa,” I shrug. “You even caught me in the shower and on camera. You’ve seen the marks on my shoulder.”

She nods.

“But you’re still here,” I remind her. “You came in and caught me red-handed but picture this, we both get butt-naked, head back to Jackson Cade’s and bang on the bathroom floor.”

There it is. She smiles.

“I wouldn’t sleep with you if you paid me,” she remarks.

“That just means you would sleep with me if I didn’t,” I say, whipping out my cock. “Because Ceyx Sovereign never pays for it.”

Not true.

“Well, except that one time with the Leprechauns… those little green fuckers will do anything for a pot of gold.”

“Now, let’s talk about Ceyx, shall we?”



“He did WHAT?

She looks at me like I raped her dog. I didn’t. I mean I might’ve. I don’t remember.

“That was my husband,” she says with a growling face. “My dog…”

“Ah fuck. It wasn’t me.”

Ceyx Sovereign