Title: Stoner Chronicles
Featuring: Duce Jones
Date: June 2, 2018
Location: Baltimore, Maryland/Philadelphia, Pennsylvania/Boston, Massachusetts
Show: Evolution 22

After Evolution 21



I screamed stepping through the curtains, separating the arena from the backstage area. Monitors and a table go flying across the area, a result of me flipping it over. CWF Officials rush towards me, trying to get me calm. Road Agent, Franklin Fredrickson grabs me by my shoulders but I shove him off..


“Get off me!”


I yell, sending him crashing into Clark Summits, both men hitting the floor. Freddie comes charging in, pushing me up against the nearest wall.


“What the fuck bruh! Get off me!”


“Not until you chill Duce!” Freddie screamed at me as he still has me pinned against the wall.


“Let me go bruh!”


“Or what? Let that shit go!”


“I don't fuckin’ tap!”


“Well you did tonight! We need our focus on the Forsaken!”


He was right, I needed to let it go, focus on the group who won the rightful spot of number one contenders to the belts that were in Freddie and mines possession. My pride was at an all time high though.


“Aight.. Aight…. I'm good…”


“Cool, put that shit in the past, we’re moving on to the future. That means we focus on keeping these belts, and one of us winning Golden Intentions!”


“Aight mane I hear ya..” I replied, finally calming down. “Can you let me go now?”


Freddie released his hold of me as a survey the minor damage I did to the gorilla position. I helped both Clark and Franklin to their feet before retrieving my half of the tag straps, slinging it over my shoulder. Freddie gave me a once over before turning and walking off.


“Go get yourself cleaned up Duce..” Freddie stated as he retrieved his belt and made his way for the locker room.


I stood there silently as CWF officials stared at me with looks of pity and disdain. What a sad sight to see right, me standing there, huffing and puffing like a 8 year old child. This was professional wrestling it wouldn't be the last time I was thrown in a submission. But let's face it, I'm the Kid That Never Dies. Which means I'll be back.


After apologizing to the staff for my outburst, I made my way towards the Smokin’ Aces’ locker room. Shit was starting to get crazy, I hadn't been back in America a full year. Yet my life was a rollercoaster ride, going at full throttle. No signs of slowing down either, with everything I had been through. I thought I could express some type of emotion. But in this business, you gotta keep it strictly professional.


Freddie's right though, my focus needed to be on the Forsaken. Those guys were the definition of cunning and we needed to be prepared for anything they threw at us.


I finally arrived at the door leading to our locker room. The door being slightly ajar, it really didn't cross my mind. But it seems Freddie has already left, as there is no sign of him.


I pay it no mind.


I sit the belt down on a chair, going to gather a few clothing from my bag to grab a quick shower. Pops always taught me to keep my head on the swivel. Fuck was that ever true right now..


“Oh shit!” I screamed as I go flying into the lockers.


I cover up to block the oncoming strikes that followed. Not really able to get a good look at my attacker. But whoever it was I must have really pissed them off. Damn was Franklin coming out of retirement again? Could Clark Summits even fight?


You know that one moment in your life where anything that could go wrong would go wrong? Especially if you've pissed off enough people to the point where this ass whooping cough be at the hands of anyone..


Yeah it was one of those ass whoopings..


“Get the fuck off me!” I pleaded out of anger.


There was no response as their foot struck my ribs repeatedly! I try my best to make it to my feet, but my many attempts are thwarted by the assailant. After minutes of the brutal beating, my attacker finally lets up, stepping back so I finally get a view of them.


I slowly raised my head, my attacker in my sights. The blood boiling within my body, ready to cause harm. But shock and disappointment were the only things to consume my aching body.




He stood there, breathing heavily, his eyes fixated on nothing but me.


“This is only the beginning boy..”


He stated calmly before kicking me in my face, causing me to lose consciousness.


I would be lying if I said I didn't see this coming, but… Yea…. Pops told me I was going to pay, but if this was the beginning. I sure as fuck didn't wanna see the end. I lied there, unconscious thoughts swirling through my brain. The only thought able to come through was my visit to the Pennsylvania Hospital.


I wasn't a patient, but I had to visit a kid that I felt epitomized the words of courage, heart, and maybe a bit of stupidity. He had balls fa sho though, not many step to Elisha and be able to talk about it.


Zachary Vaughn..


I walked into the Physical Therapy, spotting Zach slowly walking on a treadmill. I really don't know how to approach this situation. Hell how did I even end up here? By some fate or chance I was here, but I felt I needed to say something.


I made my way over to where he was, slowly approaching as I spoke, announcing my arrival.


“What's going on bruh?”


With a furrowed brow he looks at me and keeps at his therapy. The tension and uncomfortableness thick inn the air.


“Uhhh… I'm really not good at this, but I'm Duce Jones.. We work together for Cham--”


“I know who you are, question is what brings you here?” Zach asked as slowly continued to fight through the pain.


“I dunno… I saw what happened at the show…”


“Don't need your sympathy.”


“You're really not making this easy. Look mane I just came through, just to check on a fellow coworker..”


“Drop your power levels a bit, you're cool..”


“Come again say what?”


“Never mind..” He stated as he kept walking.


“So you wore the mask because of who your dad was?”


With that comment a stern look fell upon his face. As he began to talk, reality came flooding back in. When I awoke I was still down on the floor. Coughing violently, Pops nowhere in sight. Security either for that matter..




I see Pops meant business, and this would be the ONLY time he caught me slipping. I already had enough to worry about with the Forsaken, he was just another headache. A buzzing sound went off inside of my bag. It buzzed once more as I slowly made it up to a knee. I reached over grabbing a chair and took a seat before retrieving my phone. I opened the first message.


[I hope you enjoyed that, cuz there's more to come.





I opened the next message.


[Beat The Clock Challenge -

 Christian Starr vs. Duce Jones

                         CWF Management]


And the hits just keep on coming. Fuck my life right now.




With my digital camera set up, I was ready for my next installment for CWF Wired. I had two blunts rolled, one behind my ear the other in my mouth. A orange Bic lighter sparking a flame to the sweet plant that seems to keep me calm in a world that wants me to loose it. After I exhale the smoke I begin.


“I think this is starting to become a habit.. The only flaw I seem to have is that I'm a stoner. Well in so many words that seems to be it.”


Taking another hit, I hold the smoke within my lungs for a second before exhaling once more.


“Those folks who always judge books by their covers are the ones I like. I really do, they feel they have all the answers already. Like the blueprint for life fell right in their laps or something. Quite humorous I might add. See folks like Starr think they got it all figured out.”


Coughing a bit I still find time to meet a chuckle escape my body.


“Ahh! You got me Starr, I'm nothing more than the ole regular Cheech in search of a Chong… Life would be woe, if I didn't have my sweet lady Mary Jane.. To keep our one hunnit wit ya, you should be thanking whatever God you pray to that I smoke cause guys like you would be in for a rude awakening.”


Taking another toke and letting the smoke exit my nostrils.


“How so you may ask?”


“Well I'll fill you in, I got a few minutes to spare.”


“Yea it's true, at one point I was on top, only for a split second though. But at the same time it's also true that I was never officially beaten for the World Championship either. Still I took that in stride… Why? Because that's what a man does….”


“Unlike yourself, beaten for the Paramount Championship and now you're so caught up with Allison’s titty in your mouth.. That you're round the back pouting and whining like a small child. Maybe you're too busy sucking Payne’s dick. Can never really tell these days. Either way someone has to nurse the infant.”


“While you're round here trying to recapture the Paramount Championship, a belt meant to elevate you to the next level. I've been round here creating a legacy….”


“World Champion, I've done that, Academy Champion, the last to ever hold that belt, and the main reason why you're running around acting like an idiot trying to get back the Paramount title. If it wasn't for me the Paramount Championship would be null and void. And your pathetic ass wouldn't have shit to cry about. Tag Champion, I'm currently that.. So this here stoner has accomplished more in a half year time span, by myself add you. Than you have with a seven foot ape backing you up.”


“You're what's wrong with this business, all flash and no go.. Sure you was undefeated at one point, so was I… Eh… Shit happens… I'm working towards the greater good of this company, where as I don't know what the fuck you're doing.”


I take a step back as my surroundings are made clear that I'm standing in a back alley in Boston. What gave it away, how bout the huge cloverleaf spray painted on the building behind me.


“Seriously bruh, at least after Mora lost the Paramount title he went after the big belt.. You…. You… You’re so focus on mediocrity that it's shameful. Like who does that and wants to be taken seriously. You're not a Starr, you're just a ball of fuckin’ gas.”


I know it's bad to laugh at your own jokes, but I found that one quite satisfying.


“Not only that, you have your wife, girlfriend or whatever the fuck she is, along with your primate gassing you up… Talking bout King of Wrestling, boy you funny. After Evolution they'll be calling you King Nothing 2.0, King of Getting Beat.”


“I'm bout this Pro Wrestling Life! It's in my blood, it flows through my veins! I do this! Whereas you're nothing more than a wannabe with a sideshow freak. At Evolution it becomes my mission to make sure that you don't “Beat The Clock” cuz to a real fighter, a real warrior. It doesn't matter what number I enter the rumble at, cuz I have confidence in who I am. And I for one, don't need a gimme.”


I shake my head at the thought. A somber look on my face.


“But I can see now that your heart’s desire is on that final spot. And I really hate to be the bearer of bad news. But you can cancel that shit, win, lose, or draw. It's my life mission to make sure you are nowhere near that spot. Merely out of spite, just because of who you THINK you are.”


I make sure to point at the camera to get my point across.


“Christian Starr, you're nothing more than a carbon copy of every other asshole who has strolled their happy ass through any locker room in this business. Thinking the world owes them something, I’ll knee ya back to reality. Show you how much of a downfall I've really taken.”


“But let me tell ya something, you of all people should know, how easily all this can be taken from ya. But obviously the lesson wasn't learned, cause you still waltz around like this business owes you something. This business don't owe you shit, and it's high time you start realizing that. This isn't about Jarvis King or Ataxia, this is about you and Duce.”


“And when we step into that ring, you'll realize that you don't have… More Juice Than Duce!”


With that final statement, I grab the camera taking it off its stand. Recording Bean Town in all of its “glory”. A couple weeks earlier I probably could’ve caught the game. But that's old news, like this trip Starr seems to be on. I'll bring him back down to the ground though.

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