I lost again.

Merrick Wiseman fucking pinned me one, two, three in the center of the ring. I fought alone. I fought valiantly. I did my fucking best and I still lost. I am not happy about it. I am not particularly sad about it either. I guess one could say that I am nothing more than indifferent. Should I be ashamed of my indifference? I am not really sure, but I know that I am not. I guess that I don’t really love this business anymore. I guess I told the truth whenever I said that working for Oleska Drachewych, competing under the SCW banner truly has drained the very love that I had for professional wrestling from me, ripping that love out of my heart, stealing it from my soul, and throwing it into the garbage like it never even existed. I haven’t loved professional wrestling in I don’t know how long, despite the few times I lied and said that I did. I guess I was just trying to convince myself, but I can’t lie anymore. Call me Fletcher Reid, as I CAN’T LIE!!! Classic Jim Carrey movie, when he was relevant, and my love for this industry, this sport is not relevant. It was once, but that died. Once I stepped away from watching it on television and stepped into the wrestling where I have wrestled personal demons and politics, that love was eaten, chewed up and swallowed little by little.

I really wish that wasn’t the case, but it is. I have fought it long enough until I can no longer fight it. I don’t love this business. Hell, I could be cocky and shout at the top of the lungs, running from rooftop to rooftop that this industry loves me, but even then, I don’t think I could say it with a straight face. I have left and I have come back and I have left and come back again. It has been a vicious cycle that I have found myself on since July 2011. I have played this game for over four years now and I am all played out. I am tired of putting another coin in the slot and pressing continue. I am tired of typing in cheat codes and having a billion lives to use up. I have one life and I am letting it go to waste by doing something that I don’t enjoy, something that I don’t love anymore. So it all ends at Apocalypse. Yes, it does. I may never wrestle again. I may never step foot inside of a wrestling ring ever again and I am not sure if that upsets me at all. I could change my mind and return to the world of professional wrestling, but if I do, I will not be competing underneath the SCW banner. The politics that have led me to find my inner personal demons have gotten to me and they have taken their toll.

I owe it to myself to step away now, to have that ending handed to me. I am not even going to finish up my contract. The SCW can sue me. I have money for fucking days, money that Drachewych only dreams of. The fans can hate me. That is fine. I never wanted their approval or cared for their opinions about a goddamn thing. The other wrestlers can hate me or disrespect me. I tried to get them to like me in the past. At first they did, wanting me to get away from the Chosen, but then people like Helms and Starr, even Syren…they all turned their noses up at me like their shit didn’t stink and never gave me another thought. Oh it’s just James Evans…he’s well…I am not sure what he is. I was a hard worker. I always gave it my all. I was never rewarded for it. And I wasn’t. I have been told that I was inconsistent. I have been told that if I gave just a bit more than I could be where I want to be. I gave the blood, sweat, and the tears before it finally dawned on me that giving just a bit more was never enough, finding some sort of consistency wasn’t enough to please Drachewych. He always changed his mind. He has proven to be nothing more than an indecisive asshole, a bipolar bitch. He is basically picky. He has all of the attributes of a male, but when you get to know him, you can tell he has some female personality traits. Look at world, you may very well be introduced to the Canadian version of Caitlyn Jenner. When the SCW is finally put out of its fucking misery, Drachewych will his mid-life crisis and the woman in him will come out.

But I won’t be around for it. I don’t have it in me to keep fighting against the machine. I could say that I am loyal and I would laugh. My leaving and coming back proves that I am not exactly loyal. I could be like my mentor, Josh Hudson, who stuck through it all and finally caught a break after three years of being with the company, followed by another three years before he had another shot at the top. I am not him. I am nothing like him. I work hard yes, but I am not someone who will lay down and die for someone that does not give me the time of day. I am not going to sacrifice all that I have for someone or something that could care less about what I do in the ring. I realize it. I get it. Drachewych does not care for me. He took one look at me and turned his head. He figured that because I was Hudson’s protégé, that I would just be okay with being a “go to guy”, a good hand, someone who could always get a good match out of anyone, but that is all I will ever be in his eyes, in this company, because there is no room for advancement, unless you are voted into the main event like David Helms, unless you are fucking someone on the roster like everyone seems to be doing these days…David Helms especially. That is the ugly truth about this company and I can’t deal with it. I cannot and I will not. I had some good times and I have had a lot more bad times since I signed on the dotted line.

But it will all come crashing down this Sunday as I step into the ring at least once against Tommy Valentine. The thorn in my side, a guy that I have no respect for, the guy that I hate almost as much as I hate our boss…but if I get passed him, then I get to do something that I was never given the chance to do in the five years I have been with this company off and on. Not once have I received a world title shot but I am not going to get into that. There is no point. It is old news. It is a broken record these days. Even the people who have received title shot after title shot, been used prominently since they arrived here complain about not getting the shots they deserve. I get it. There is no use in wasting my thoughts or my breath. If…you know what scratch that…when I get passed Tommy Valentine, I am going to compete for the World Heavyweight Championship and then I am going to leave with the SCW title in my hands. And like the title of the pay per view, Apocalypse, it will all be fitting because I am leaving once the night is over and I will be leaving with the one thing that Drachewych never wanted me to come close to. I will carry the SCW title with me and when I go to leave, I will just drop that son of a bitch in the trash can on my way out.

It’s the end of the world as we know it…

And I feel fine…


“I want you to kill me”

Hal, my right hand man, my top “henchman” looks at me confused. We are standing on the top of Evans Inc., the company that my family built, the company that I just signed over to my friend Daniel and leaving before he had time to question me. Hal just stares at me confused. This is the first time he has ever been confused by something I’ve said, which I find funny, as I have asked him to do all kinds of things like attack Tommy Valentine and Merrick Wiseman and even Jake Starr. He did all of that shit without hesitation.

Hal: “What do you mean you want me to kill you? Why the fuck would you ask me to do that, James? You have a whole life to live man. I’m not going to do that. You’re talking crazy.”

I laugh, before responding.

James Evans: “I’m not fucking with you, Hal. I want you to kill me, but not in the sense that you apparently think that I mean. I want you to help me fake my death.”

The confusion remains in his eyes. I can’t say that I can blame him for the confusion, but right now, I just really don’t have time for it.

Hal: “Okay James, now I know you’re crazy. What is it? Are you high or something? Did you smoke a little too much weed or was it laced with some other shit? There’s no fucking way that I am going to help you fake your death man. There’s no point in that shit. It’s just dumb. It is just fucking dumb.”

James Evans: “I’m not high, Hal. I’m not. And even if I was, this thought would still be racing through my mind. I want to get out of here. I want to just fucking disappear, Hal and I am coming to you for help. I’ve asked you to do all kinds of shit for me these past few months, but this isn’t just kiddie games. I am being dead fucking serious about this. So please…Hal…do me a solid. Help me.”

Hal: “I can’t believe you’re asking me to do help you do something like this. I don’t even know why you want to do something like this. You have a career man. You are rich and famous. You have power. You have one of the largest companies, not only in New York, but in the entire United States, if not the world. I don’t know why you want to throw it all away.”

I chuckle and shake my head, before looking up at the stars for a moment, wishing I was up there, floating with them in outer space or even further than that, in a galaxy far, far away…

James Evans: “I am quitting the wrestling business. It’s not for me anymore. Any kind of passion that I had for it died a long time ago. I signed the company over to Daniel because I know that he will be able to do what I couldn’t. He will take what I only talked about and make that shit happen. Being rich and famous comes from my family name. I don’t want it. I want to be able to go out and find my own fucking identity. I am twenty eight. I think it’s about time I stop living a fucking fantasy, living someone else’s life and start finding my own place in this world and living my own life.”

Hal: “But if you fake your death, you will have to become someone else, get a different name. You will no longer be James Evans.”

I laugh again.

James Evans: “I have never been James Evans. Sure, I was born into this body but I have never lived up to the expectations that came with being an Evans. James Evans is nothing more than a concept. Anyone could walk up and be me. I hate the rich and famous lifestyle. I have tried to embrace it. I have fucking faked it for far too long and I simply cannot do it anymore Hal, which is why I am coming to you. You know people and I know that. I am asking you to help me one last time and then you will never hear from me again. I have already put a shit load of money in your account, as well as the rest of the guys. It should cover you and your families for the rest of time. I won’t need it wherever I’m going.”

Hal: “James…man…”

James Evans: “Hal, stop. Either you’re going to help me or I will find someone else that will, no questions asked. I am coming to you because I know that you are loyal and unlike the fuck I work for, I appreciate and respect loyalty. I honor that shit. So, I will ask you again and this is the last time I’m going to ask, but are you going to help me or not…I need to know right now…”

Hal looks at me then turns away and kind of talks to himself, cursing under his breath. He shakes his head a few times and rolls his eyes from what I can see, before turning back and locking eyes with me. Hal: “I’ll help you, James. Of course I’ll help you. I wish you wouldn’t do this, but if you feel you gotta do it then who am I to stop you? I know a guy and I’ll contact him. Once I do, he will call you. It will be from a private number. He will give you all of the details.”

James Evans: “Alright sounds good…”

Hal: “And James…once you start with this guy, there is no turning back, there is no option B. You have to do what he says when he says it and you have to do it exactly as he says, otherwise, you may actually get killed. I want to tell you this so you can think about it…”

I cut him off.

James Evans: “There is nothing left to think about, Hal. This is it. This is what I want. If I get killed then so be it. I wanted to disappear. Either way, I get what I wanted. So call him up.”

I can see concern in Hal’s eyes, and on his face. I do not let it hinder me.

Hal: “Are you sure about that, James? I have to ask these kinds of things.”

I sigh.

James Evans: “Stop stalling and fucking call him. I will be waiting at home.”


The moon light shines in through the side window of my New York loft, high above the city of scattering ants, running around like chickens with their heads chopped off. I sit in my leather chair, just staring out at the empty skyscraper across from what I guess I should call home, a place that has never really felt like home. It has been nothing more than an illusion, I tell myself as I take a sip of my white Russian and a puff of my joint. I smile, thinking about the paradise I will soon find myself in, where I will do nothing but eat, sleep, drink, smoke and sleep again.

I tell myself that it will be the life that I have always wanted, the life I have craved like depressed women crave chocolate. You can label me a junkie and say that getting a life of solitude is going to be like me getting my fix. I need it. I am jonesing for it to say the least. I find it funny that I have spent years of my life, hell almost my entire fucking life to be exact, looking for a way out. I shake my head, before taking a drink. The liquid stings at my throat, the burning sensation of vodka, soothed and cooled off by the creamy taste of Kaluha and milk. I smirk then nod my head, telling myself that I should have never been born to a rich family, that I should have never been known as the heir to an empire. That stigma ruined my life. It sets you up for nothing but high expectations that are nothing short of impossible to grasp. I think this and I can’t help but laugh at the way my life has turned out. I tell myself that I never would have thought I’d be faking my death and running away from the only life I have ever known. I laugh until the phone rings.

I stop everything that I am doing. It is like my brain shuts off for just a few moments, as I do nothing but stare at the phone. At about the fifth ring, I snap back into reality, setting my drink and joint down before grabbing the phone. I press TALK then press the phone to my ear. I zone in on the moon as I speak.

James Evans: “Hello?”

The voice chimes in. It is gruff, giving off the feeling that the person behind the voice has seen and done a lot of shit in his day.

???: “Is this line secure?”

James Evans: “Yes.”

???: “Alright, I am going to need you to do nothing but listen at this point. If you ask any questions, or interrupt me when I am talking then this conversation ends. If you do anything other than what I say, especially when I say it then our contact ends and the only time you will see me is right before I kill you. Do you understand? You can say yes or no. If you say yes then we continue. If you say no then…well, I am sure you get what happens after that. So…do you understand?”

I don’t speak or breathe for a few moments. It is as if I am drinking it all in, as if reality is truly starting to set in. The depths of the choices I have made are coming to light. I finally breathe, drawing it in, holding it and slowly letting it out, as I feel my mind and body starting to relax, before I respond.

James Evans: “Yes.”

???: “Alright then we can proceed. You and I are going to meet face to face at some point, but for now, I am nothing more than a voice. I am your God and you are to follow my commandments right down to the fucking T. Is that understood?”

James Evans: “Yes.”

???: “If that is understood then you need to be sure that you want to go this route. I know all about you. I know everything. I know your family. I know the women you’ve been involved with. I know what you do for a living, on and off the record. I know people who know people who know people that live in the deepest, darkest holes out there. So if you go this route, there will not be any more contact with the world that you will be leaving behind. You will not see your family. You will not be able to hook up with some piece of ass that you have. You will be isolated, completely cut off. Do you understand that?”

I pause, as actually hearing all of that, especially not seeing my family anymore does hurt somewhat. I remind myself that we haven’t had much contact in the first place and it is not like I haven’t been shut off from them before. I tell myself that this time is different however, that there will be no coming back if I go through with this.

James Evans: “Yes.”

???: “Alright. I want you to get a pen and paper. I am going to give a time, a location, followed by directions to that location. Once you have this information, you are to keep this information with you at all times if possible. This will be in Philly, as I know you will be there Sunday, which is when you will go off the grid. Let me know when you are ready to write.”

I quickly scramble, searching for a pen and a piece of paper. It takes me a few moments. During those few moments, I am asking myself over and over if I really want to do this. I know that I was all gung ho when I spoke to Hal about it, but now it is real. It is in my face. I shake that off as I see a pen and I grab a notepad, telling myself that I owe it to myself to escape, to get away from it, just as I have always truly wanted. I return to my chair, releasing a deep breath as the pen touches the paper, and I speak once again.

James Evans: “I’m ready…”


“Why do you think a man runs away?”

I find myself in Philly, the night before Apocalypse, my last SCW appearance, my last wrestling event, my last…pretty much everything. I am lying on a hotel bed, in some high class, expensive hotel suite, with some bimbo I met at a bar. She has her arm over my chest and her leg over mine, as I stare up at the ceiling, feeling my fingers going through her hair, as she runs her fingers through the hair on my chest. I admit to myself that while I haven’t laid with a woman in such a manner as this in a long time, this feels nice. Hell, we didn’t have that wham-bam-thank you ma’am-kind of sex. It felt like we were making love. I haven’t done that since Katelyn and it has been years since that has gone down. But yeah…this feels nice.

Girl: “I don’t know babe. I’m not sure I can answer that. Why do you think a man runs away?”

I chuckle.

James Evans: “That is such a cop out. I asked you why you think a man runs away…hell, why do you think a woman runs away. Hell, why do you think anyone runs away? I am sure you can come up with something. Come on…don’t leave me hanging here.”

She looks up at me. I know because I can feel her eyes on me. I look down at her. Her name is Charlotte. I remember because I am from North Carolina. That is what led us to being here, like this. I told her that she reminded me of home.

Charlotte: “Okay. I will give you something. Hmmm…let’s see. I think some people run away because they are tired of dealing with the bullshit of everyday life. I think there are those who run away because they have a lot of guilt weighing down on them, so they think that by running away then they are getting rid of all that guilt.”

James Evans: “That seems pretty legit. I can accept that as an answer.”

Charlotte: “Can I ask you something?”

James Evans: “Yeah sure. I guess it’s only fair since I asked you such as strange question. So yeah, go ahead. Ask away and I will give you the best possible answer that I can come up with.”

She readjusts herself, propping her head up on her hand, using her elbow for support. I turn my head and we lock eyes. I tell myself that maybe in another life we could have been something. I tell myself to get that fucking idea out of my head, as she speaks.

Charlotte: “Are you running away?”

I pause for a few moments and just stare at her, as my mind begins to race. I ask myself if I really want to lie here with some girl I just met and tell her everything. I ask myself if I really want to open up to her. I smirk, as I tell myself that either way, after tomorrow night I will vanish. I will disappear. I will never see her again. I ask myself, what could it hurt?

James Evans: “What makes you ask that?”

Charlotte: “You brought it up, so I put two and two together. It dawned on me that you know someone who is running away or that you’re running away.”

James Evans: “And if I am? Are you going to miss me or something?”

Charlotte: “I don’t know…maybe…”

Hearing her say that makes me feel nervous, makes me feel vulnerable. I don’t like feeling like that. Makes me uneasy I guess you could say. But once again I ask myself…what could it hurt?

James Evans: “Yeah…yeah I am. I am leaving tomorrow night at some point. I am going to get into a car, after my match is over and I am leaving this city. I am leaving everyone and everything behind. I am not even going to look back. I am just going to keep my eyes forward and that’s it. I will be nothing more than a fucking ghost.”

Charlotte: “Does that make you sad?”

I pause again, feeling even more vulnerable as I start speaking again.

James Evans: “I don’t know. I haven’ really thought about it. I guess I can see where you or anyone else would find that sad. If our roles were reversed, there is a chance that I’d find it sad as well. But I remind myself that I am doing this for me. I need to do this. It is more like I have to do this otherwise…otherwise I don’t know what’s going to happen.”

Charlotte: “I guess I can respect that. So one last question…”

James Evans: “Okay you are abusing this exercise.”

We share a laugh. It feels nice.

Charlotte: “Oh come on. Just one more…I won’t get to see you anymore after tonight. So just one more…please…please…pretty please…”

I put my hands up in surrender, before responding.

James Evans: “Alright, alright. Go ahead. One more question so you better make it count.”

We lock eyes, and I immediately become filled with regret. She and I will never see one another again. I have opened up to her and we will never see one another again. I shake it off as quickly as possible, as she asks her question.

Charlotte: “Why are you running away?”

What could it hurt?

James Evans: “I’m running away because I am sick of the bullshit I go through every single day. I am running away because I have guilt weighing down on me. I have done a lot of bad shit. I am not a very nice person. If you would have known before now then you would have done your best to stay the hell away from me. I need to get away from the glitz and the glamor. I hate the money. I am tired of living in a materialistic society and feeling the need to fit in and be someone else other than who I truly am.”

Charlotte: “I know you said no more questions but I have just one more.”

James Evans: “Go ahead…”

Charlotte: “Who are you really? You said you were being someone else other than who you truly are. So who are you?”

I run my hands over my face, as I sit up in the bed, hating the fact that I started this entire conversation. I let out a deep sigh before turning and locking eyes with her again, before giving my response.

James Evans: “I don’t know who I am. I’m hoping that after I get to wherever I’m going, I will find that out.”

Charlotte: “And if you don’t?”

James Evans: “I am not going to have that as an option. I have to. I want to find peace and I know peace is out there. I just have to find it. I feel like I will know it when I do.”

She sits up as well and we are nearly nose to nose as she speaks, her words haunting me, as I know those words will be the last that I will ever hear from her.

Charlotte: “For your sake…I hope that you do.”

And then we kiss, embracing like lovers whose paths have crossed after several long and lonely years, like two people who will never see one another again when it is all said and done.



The countdown clock has started. Apocalypse is almost near. It is the end of an era, the end of days, the end of the world as we know it. Yeah all that of that bullshit. Apocalypse is another stacked SCW pay per view card and the SCW intends to make history. Winners from each match will compete against Rayvn Taylor in the main event in a ladder match in order to crown a new SCW World Heavyweight Champion. I just find it funny about how this is supposed to be historic. I mean, the SCW has done something like this before in the past. I believe it was 2008 and Shawn Alexander Cage had to drop out of his title match against the current champion, James Exeter, so winners from every match ended up competing for the title on that pay per view. There was no new champion crowned as James Exeter managed to retain the title, but it is still the same concept, so this isn’t as groundbreaking as the SCW claims that it is.

All week long, leading up to Apocalypse everyone has come out and addressed their opponents before talking about how they have an opportunity to compete for the World title. I am not going to go that route, because this so called opportunity is something that I have deserved for years now. I have deserved a few World title matches throughout my sporadic SCW career and yet I have never received a chance to do so, because the boss man has said it doesn’t fit in with what he has had planned and I have been told that he just isn’t going to hand out title shots. I am pretty sure he just handed CHBK a shot at the United States title last week on Breakdown. I could sit around and cry foul play at the top of my lungs but there would be no need. It would be wasted breath.

That is why I am leaving the SCW. I am still a victim of the backstage politics and the favoritism. I am simply not going to deal with it anymore. This is not sour grapes or me being a crybaby. This is the only platform that I have in order to air my grievances, to come out and say what I need to say, to get a lot of shit off of my chest, so fucking deal with it you assholes. I have to deal with all of your bullshit, so you need to sit down, shut up, and fucking listen.

The SCW World Championship is something that I have always set my eyes on. It is something that I have always wanted to compete for. I would have been happy competing for it in a losing effort, but that never happened. It could have been at the start of the show on free television and I would have been fucking smitten, but that just never happened for me. I have sat back and watched countless talent-less hacks with boring personalities and cliché catchphrases waltz into this fucking company and get afforded opportunity after opportunity simply because they can cut a twenty minute promo with a snap of their fingers. Well in the words of Eminem…Fuck them and fuck you too. That is why I am angry. That is why I am pissed off and aggravated every single time I come back to the SCW. It is the same vicious cycle of bullshit that I always find myself in. Well, it ends Sunday night at Apocalypse when I walk out of the arena…more like run out of the arena as the SCW World Heavyweight Championship. That title is a symbol of all the bullshit I have had to endure be it verbally or visually as I have heard it all and I have watched as I have been surpassed.

It is a symbol of everything that I hate in this business. It is a symbol of all of the love that I once had for this industry being flushed down the drain. It is a symbol of something that should be destroyed and buried deep within the cemetery of dead wrestling promotions. It is a symbol of an era that should be long forgotten.

It is something that I need to have to so I can do just that and treat the SCW as it has treated me since day one.

I am tired of busting my ass and breaking my back for this place. No, I am just going to do what I have always been able to do and that is kick the asses of everyone else, and break their backs so I can stand over them, with the title high above my head, as I look down, laughing and pointing at them, saying that I fucking told you so.

That is what I am going to do to you Tommy Valentine. Everyone believes you are going to win. That you are in World title form. I am going to beat you badly, Tommy. I am sick of you. Everyone wants to paint you as the good guy, when you are nothing more than David Helms’ puppet. He has dragged you along through times where he was the villain and you followed suit because you needed relevancy. You were David and he was your Syren, he was your Reagan Street. After I am finished with you, you are going to need to lean on him again for support because I am going to cut your fucking legs out from underneath you, before breaking them. I have a chance to compete for the World title that should have been mine at least twice by now, so you better believe that I am going to stop at nothing in order to take you out and beat you senseless. I am going to beat you because I have to. Losing to you damages my ego and I don’t like losing to you. You are good in the ring, but Sunday I prove that I am better and that I have always been better. Sunday night, your luck runs outs, just as it runs out for all of the usual suspects that will participate in the main event at Apocalypse. You are all standing in my way, just as you have always done. You can brush me off because I am not considered part of the elite. Well, Sunday the elite can suck my dick and kiss my ass goodbye at the same time, as the World title will be mine and then I will leave this company. I will defend it in promotions that will treat me like the superstar that I am and that I have always been destined to be. The SCW will not be able to handcuff me anymore as I will have the power, in my hands, draped over my shoulder, and wrapped around my waist.

I will then sit back and watch as this company dies, as it gasps out its last breath…as it fades into the abyss of the apocalypse that has been coming for it, despite the company’s knowledge. Drachewych can try to sue me but I have more money and more power than he could ever possess. I am his worst enemy, just as I am this company’s worst night. I stated years ago that I was the virus. Well Sunday night, I truly infect the SCW and I will sit back, from my comfy couch in my lovely home, watching it get sick and die a slow and painful but deserving death.

You will all wish you respected me and showed me that respect. You will all wish that James Evans was never born because I am going to be the end of all of you…

I am going to be the end of the SCW…

None of you know what is about to come.