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The Cooling Board

“The coolin’ board was once a widely used transportation device for ferryin’ bodies of the recently departed from one locality to another.”

“Resemblin’ a long, slender, wooden plank, the forefathers of Arcadia used coolin’ boards to prepare the bodies of the dead before sendin’ them on their way to the great beyond.”

“Morticians would lay subjects on the coolin’ board like slabs of meat before conductin’ a full and thorough embalmment of the corpse.”

“After the preservation procedure was complete, grave diggers would courier the body to the burial site to deliberate the individual’s onward journey.”

“Once they had finally determined the fate of the deceased, the body was lowered into the ground with the contrastin’ prospect of paradise or an eternity of damnation pendin’ the ferrymen’s verdict.”

“Fast forward several centuries and it would seem old habits die the hardest; ain’t that right, homie?”

“In the blink of an eye you have graced Arcadia with your deathly presence, where since such time you have searched the land high and low for any remains you can to add to your mortal collection.”

“Old School Wrestlin’ has fast become your coolin’ board, has it not? As you unearth the bodies of those lyin’ by the wayside, you proceed to slam their lifeless carcasses onto that mortuary table of yours as though they were slabs of meat for you to dissect, dismember, and devour.”

“The coolin’ board, for you, ain’t so much a transportation device for ferryin’ bodies across the threshold of life and death as it is a table top for you to feast upon for your own, grisly survival.”

“By makin’ your defunct discoveries, it has allowed you to continue your own mortal passage through this world.”

“You have dined out on the souls of others to maintain your own existence in a world that ate you up and spat you out a long, long time ago.”

“Only sometimes the dead ain’t always as they seem, are they?”

“And as you have found out first hand, motherfucker, fleshy fiestas such as Drewitt laid upon your coolin’ board ain’t always as ripe for pickin’ as you assumed them to be.”

“Ya see, Ferryman, you might believe that you hold the key when it comes to decidin’ the fate of others, but The Explorer’s continued existence in this realm defies your logic, homie.”

“It has rendered your reasonin’ flawed, and the one thing that links everything together… is me.”

“I, Tombstone, am Arcadia’s great famine; a drought sweepin’ through Olympus, removin’ those of the sustenance they need to survive.”

“I say who eats and when, and if I decide somebody goes without consumption, then guess what? So fuckin’ be it.”

“That’s for me to determine, ya hear?”

“You might be used to people, flat out on their backs across your coolin’ board, givin’ in to your demands and admittin’ defeat without any resistance, but Big Slim doesn’t lay down for anybody.”

“The table top? It belongs to me, dawg.”

“Nobody starves Drexl of his chow time; especially a bell-tolling motherfucker like you.”

“At Ring of Dreams, I’ll be the one eatin’ you out of house and fuckin’ home.”

”Buon appetito, bitch.”

Drexl