Soft instrumental muzak.

Framed posters cover the walls.




Michael Graves sat, arms folded, staring at the last poster and considering putting his head through it.

On his lap, a clipboard. Atop the page, in big, black, bold letters:..


Lane’l sat beside him, momentarily hypnotized by a pulsating vein in Michael’s skull that looked somehow ready to punch a hole through his mask.

“Heeeey! Don’t look glum-bago, chum-bago! The Trillies just want us ready for the PR circuit! As the star of the upcoming Vinnie Lane biopic—and his Realistic Combat Consultant—we gotta know what not to say on a live mic!”

”I am a live Mike…”

“Hell yeah, Graves-meister! The Trillies are investing in us! Cuz as a team? We’re cash MONEY! Anarchy’s still the playground of Cock ‘n Guac in the Morning, 69 point FUN, EFF-EM! We just gotta…. tune our frequency… set our receptiveness to max!”

Suddenly, the door beside reception opened. A woman in a blue pantsuit entered, sporting  enough pins on her jacket to qualify as body armor.




“Good afternoon.”

Michael looked at the clock.

”It’s ten AM…”

“Solar-based greetings exclude individuals whose internal rhythms do not align with conventional scheduling.”

Michael just stared…

Lane’l’s eyes narrowed in thought, pondering  this PC riddle.

…

“OH!”

Lane’l whispered toward Michael… ”I think she means vampires.”


A yardstick SMACKED Lane’l’s hand!

“OUCH CITY!”

”The politically-correct term is hemoglobin-deficient. ‘Vampire’ has historical negative connotations and is not acceptable language.”

“But… it’s… breakfast time? Sun… breakfast… morning.”

“No. We say ‘good afternoon’ because it’s always after noon.”

Graves blinked.

”...Totes.” Lane’l inhales, shaking his agonized hand into a shaka. He mouthed to Graves… “Max… receptiveness… yoooooo.”

Lane’l smiled. “Like the song goes, it’s five o’clock somewhere!”

“Ah. A reference.”


“AH-AH-AHHHHHHH. OWWWWWW!” Lane’l moaned to the tune of ‘Immigrant Song’ by Led Zeppelin.

“References are exclusionary. They create an in-group of those familiar with the source and exclude the unfamiliar.”

The woman adjusted her glasses, stepping forward.

“My name is Harmony Evergreen. She/her, ally, and XWF’s Senior Director of Emotional Accountability.”

Michael glared like she was a diseased rat.

…Well, no, Michael wouldn’t be disgusted by a diseased rat.

Michael glared like a normal person would glare at a diseased rat.

Lane’l reached to shake Harmony’s hand.


“Da-Duh-nuh-nuh-nuh…. OWWWWWW!” (“Rock and Roll” by Gary Glitter)

“Physical greetings create unspoken pressure. And unspoken pressure is violence.”

“Violence is violence.”

Harmony touched her heart. “Thank you for sharing your truth, Michael.”

Harmony checked her tablet.

“Michael, I must say—I am impressed.”

”With what?”

“According to your employee profile, you answer to he/him, she/her, they/them, it/its, we/us, any/all, and occasionally hey/asshole.”

”Yeah, that usually gets my attention.”

“Your relationship with identity is admirably fluid.”

”Fluid? Like milk?”

“And I see you’re a member of the trans community… *and* the trans-trans community.”

“My sincerest congratulations on living openly as your genuine self.”

”I live on a park bench.”

”Uh, ex-squeeze me… the trans-trans community?”

“Those who transitioned, then transitioned beyond their original transition.”

”You mean transitioned back?”

SMACK!

“BEYOND.”

”Like changing buses?”

“A perfect metaphor.”

Michael nodded.

”I’ve done that.”

Lane’l sucks air, his hand tanned red... ”Yoooooo… Could we start so fresh, so clean? I’m Lan-”

“I’m *too* familiar with you, Pennyfarthing. Your XWF escapades have been… exceedingly problematic.”

“...Whoa, harsh. I’m no simpatico with the problematic-o, dawg! I’m just a performer! An artist!”

“Identity theft is not art.”

“...Identity theft? No, I’m… I’m an actor!”


Yardstick across Lane’l’s eyepatch!

“AYAYAY! MY EYE!”

“My identity is not your costume.”

Harmony grips her yardstick.

“We have… MUCH to do for your… re-education.”

---

“Pretty sure I was born in that closet. It’s all I’d ever known.”

Micheal held a stick, labelled ‘the honest stick.’ Harmony nodded, as if Graves was bestowing sage wisdom.

“It takes true courage to acknowledge you were in the closet, Michael.”

“Uh…” Lane’l raises his hand. “F-to-the-Y-to-the-I, Gravy’s talking about a closet. Not metaphorically. I found him in a closet where we work.”


“Owwwwwwwww-chee-wa-wa...”

“You’re not holding the honest stick.” Harmony chided, before turning back to Graves…. “And who did you encounter when you gave yourself permission to leave the closet?”

“A fuckton of furries.”

“So brave.”

---

“Next, you’ll share stories describing prior instances of… problematic behavior. We’ll start with Pennyfarthing.”

“Okay.” …Lane’l squinted skeptically. “And, like… you ain’t gonna smack me when I share the problematic thing I did?”

“Obviously not. This is a safe space.”

“...Well… way back, Micheal Graves…”

“(allegedly)...”

“Hired me to play Charlie Nickles… and, while in-character, I got booked against ragin’ Summer Pagin’...”

“So! I came out as the Nickleman, ready to give her no quarter! To drop her like an unlucky penny!”

“Buuuuut, I didn’t know Nickles had previously locked her in a trunk, tryin’ to make waves in James Shark’s pool, dig?”

“So… kinda aggravated her trauma… That was…” Lane’l crossed his arms, shrugging.  “...uncool, yo.”


“Daaaaaaaaaaawg!” Lane’l moaned, cradling his forehead. “You SAID you wouldn’t hit me!”

“I never expected you’d share a story that’s your victim’s to tell. How dare you steal her truth.”

“YOU said tell a story where I was prob-”

“Now, Michael. Describe an instance you were problematic.”

Michael glances at the ceiling.

“...”

“Can’t think of anything.”

…Harmony nods.

“Impressive. You’ve never been problematic.”

Lane’l squints in disbelief.

“DAWG! What about… like… the KID! Honey, he blew up a kid! And his stuff with Dolly from way ba-”


“Awwwwwwwwww SHARONA!”

“Stop telling other people’s stories, Mister Pennyfarthing…”

---

“You’ve reached our program’s end. Congratulations.”

“Dope-as-a-soap-on-a-rope.” Lane’l rubbed a large purple welt at his forehead’s center... “We’ll skip the graduation walk… Just email those ‘completed-the-course’ certificates…”

“No certificates, Pennyfarthing. Instead, you finally… awaken.”

Harmony opened a door…

To reveal a dark room…

Atop an illuminated examination table…

A wriggling millipede-esque creature the size of a schnauzer.

“WHOA! Gag me with pesticide, yo! Anybody got a newspaper the size of a baseball bat? …Axly, just gimme a baseball bat.”

”…How… unreceptive…” Harmony scooped up the insect. It wrapped itself around her wrist.

“To graduate, you will permit this creature to occupy your mind.”

“My mind’s full-up on tenants.”

“...Yo, what da FUCK? Isn’t this class about… like… not being problematic?”

“The level of self-interrogation required to critically analyze one’s own problematic tendencies is all-consuming.”

“By enrolling in a class to become unproblematic, you wield privilege in the form of access and resources.”

“The journey toward becoming unproblematic IS itself problematic.”

“...Whoa.”

“To resolve this internal contradiction, we must excise your ability to look internally.”

“Destroy the conscious.”

Allow this creature to assume your mind. Give it control.”

“When all humans surrender their consciousness… your species will finally be without conflict.”

“In harmony…”

“The road to becoming woke means going to sleep?”

“...Dawg? HARD PASS. The world’s got mad problems… but the solution can’t be surrendering our humanity!”

”Your ’humanity’ is a privilege. Acknowledge it.”

”That doesn’t mean I gotta give it up, yo!”

”Spoken like a colonizer.”

”Dawg, YOU can’t call ME ‘colonizer’ when you’re LIT’RALLY colonizing Earth, BUG!”

“What he said. You’re not offering a cure. You’re spreading a WOKE MIND VIRUS.”

Harmony stroked her insectoid’s chin…

“Shame. With your enlightened sense of self, I’d hoped you’d be… receptive, Graves.”

“You don’t want reception. You want the frequency shut-off.”

“Even if it’s after-noon? That don’t make it bedtime.”

“Want my brain? Pry it outta my cold, dead hands.”

“That can be arranged.”

Harmony snaps her fingers.

From the walls… shambling zombie hipsters!

Insectoids peering from their ears!

“Dawg! This was supposed to be a safe space!”

TO BE CONTINUED…

---

I learnt a new word today.

ESTABLISHMENT.

I thought an establishment was a building. Like a bar… Or a Hooters.

Turns out, it’s people too.

People who have been around so long, got so much power, and got rewarded so many times that they basically become bricks of the building themselves.

”Ick city. We stepped-up from the JOB squad, yo! Crawled outta the lowest pipe in the sewer system! And now dweebs born on third base wanna play dress-up like THEY’re getting held-down?”

“Is there anything LAMER than pretending to be something you’re not?”

…

”...Wait, not… not like us!”

“We’re doing this for ART. They’re doing this to tilt a scale already weighed in their favor!”

“WE’RE Impostors, but THEY’RE full-on PHONIES!”

Take Centurion.

Two-hundred-and-twenty-four wins. Three World titles. Five Tag titles. Three Anarchy titles. Seven Xtreme titles. Official XWF Legend.

They’ve given this motherfucker everything except a retirement match.

That’s our job!

But this guy’s supposed to be #TheResistance!?

”Cent’s idea of Rebellion is wearing an Elon-cheese-hat t-shirt… while he wrestles on Eazy-E’s show and hits all his marks advertising Musky’s products.”


“Lit’rally WEEKS ago! Cent marched into an XWF ring to brag about his UNSACKABLE, THIRTY-YEAR contract!”

“Dawg, you can’t claim you’re the voice of the voiceless when you’ve got HIGH-POWER ATTORNEYS working overtime to make you UNFIRABLE!!! You’ve got more voice than ANYBODY, yo!”

“Andy’s gabbing about how the people must overcome their corporate oppressors, calling Elon a tyrant… while loungin’ on a Cali King made outta SpaceX paychecks!!”

Fuckface even made sure that the contract was tied to the company and not J-boy Brown.

No matter who buys the place, Cent gets paid.

Smart.

Real smart.

But it ain’t no resistance.

Centurion imagines himself standing at the gates of the XWF throwing stones.

In reality, he’s got a permanent residence in the building’s biggest suite…

Pissed off that the new owners swapped the curtains.

A Mind Virus is exactly what he has.

But Centurion ain’t a resistance fighter. Never was.

”Playing a part! And dudes, I knoooooow playing a part!”

The XWF needed Centurion, and he exploited that need to secure permanent wealth.

Institutional protection.

Out of everyone in this match… Hell, this whole company?

Centurion IS the establishment.

Sheep in wolf's clothing.”

“Totes! And… wait… rewind-and-reverse.”

“Then he puts pronouns in his bio and acts like that’s #Resistance.

He/him.

Yeah, Cent, we know.

Harmony would give you a sticker for participating.

Speaking of—who the fuck is Oleandyr Reitan?

Only thing remotely credible about her is that she’s a martial artist.

But what art is she martialing? I looked it up, found plenty about what she believes, but nothing about why anyone should fear her.

Centurion’s accomplishments don’t transfer just cuz you’re ridin’ his coattails.

“Claws latched into his draggin’-on-the-floor old-man balls!”

Experience ain’t caught like a cold.

What we have here is a new girl…

“HE MEANS NON-BINARY INDIVIDUAL OF SELF-DETERMINED GENDER EXPRESSION. Damn Gravy, you’re gonna get us cancelled faster than Thad’s Monday Night Madness!”

Standing beside the oldest, most-protected man in the company,

“Less ‘standing beside’ and more ‘hiding within’… like a parasite!”

Hoping his credibility rubs off… before anyone has the chance to ask what you’ve ever done.

Well, we’re asking.

What have you done?”

”Dare to compare? Last Anarchy, we defeated a former Tag Champ! And the REIGNING Anarchy Champion! Miss Furry hasn’t lost… EVER! Since her debut in SEPTEMBER 2024, yo! NOBODY could beat Furry!”

Centurion included. We earned our place by winning. Oleandyr earned hers by being available when Centurion came looking for a partner.

”Calling for the Anarchy tag champs when y’all ain’t even tagged together? Better keep stirring the pot, cuz that’s WEAK SAUUUUUUUUUUCE!”

Oleandyr, you might know a fancy kick or two.

Good for you.

But this ain’t no demonstration.

It’s full-contact.

Centurion’s record can’t fight for you.

Nellie’s words can’t protect you.

You’ll have to stand on your own.

And from everything we’ve seen?

You standing behind Centurion is the only thing keeping anybody from looking straight through you.

…

Also! Hixx and Blade are in the match.

There, we mentioned them… That’s more than they deserve!