“Hello? Ah, yes. This is Adam Allocco— yes, THEE Adam Allocco. No, I don’t remember harassing you six months ago, I assure you that you were giving me advances. Okay, can you put me through to the boss? He’s not available? He should make time, I own part of this company!” Adam yelled into the telephone. He had earned phone privileges, which he never thought would be something withheld from him. The longer he spent in the Happydale Ranch of St. Dymphna, the more he was certain he had been exiled to a cult. The worse you behave, the more activities you were assigned. Skipping out on the activities, led to chores. Adam hated washing dishes. He would flee but Petya would hunt him down again. Adam learned enough from his time in Russia that eventually, someone will slip on the trigger and blow your brains out accidentally like in Pulp Fiction. Petya might ‘accidently’ kill him. “Fine, I’ll leave a message. I want to file a formal complaint about Kimberly Williams and her comments regarding my disease. I think she has failed as her position as a representative of this company and a role model to stupid little kids. She disparages my affliction and ignores my hard efforts to better myself. Yes, read that back. No, you have to deliver that message to him with more fire or my message will be lost in translation. Thank you. And again, I’m sorry about not remembering my rude actions towards you. I was probably drunk at the time. I’m making great strides at cleaning up my act, so much so, you might want to reconsider your reluctance in having sex– Oh okay, well, can I get your personal—”
“The bitch hung up on me,” Adam shouted, slamming the phone down onto the receiver. “She must be ugly because I would have remembered touching her ass.”
“Adam, we should speak about your behavior. I’m glad that you seem to have committed to this spiritual journey to sobriety but I think we should really talk about your actions and how you treat others,” Doctor Lilly said. Adam paused for a moment trying to wrap his head around these baseless accusations. He treated people perfectly fine. It was him that people treated with utter disregard towards his feelings. All they do is shit on him, for no good reason other than they’re obviously jealous of his influence on the sport of wrestling, his handsome mug, and most importantly, his big hog. He really liked the good doctor when her mouth remained closed.
“I’m sorry, but I thought my phone time was ‘me’ time.”
“We never told you we weren’t listening to your calls.”
“What are you? Some jealous girlfriend? Look, honey, just say the word and we can elope, Las Vegas isn’t too far. One night is all it takes.” Adam winked at her. She didn’t take the compliment, crossing her arms and frowning with disappointment. She wasn’t angry at him, she was just disappointed. God, she needed to be knocked off her high horse.
“We believe that observing your interactions with the outside world is critical to assessing your moral weaknesses.”
“Whatever happened to ‘judgement-free’ therapy.”
“We’re not judging you. We’re simply assessing you.”
“I don’t see much of a difference.”
“That’s because you’re very cynical and distrusting. I sense that deep down inside that you fear that no one likes you,” Doctor Lilly stated. She leaned against the doorway, tilting her head and giving him a look. At that moment, Adam realized she was propping up her beautiful rack. Her top few buttons were undone, revealing a modest showing of cleavage. So she was simply playing hard to get. Adam understood that. Plus she had to keep up appearances in this prison run by religious fanatics. Hell, Adam best she was feeling sexually repressed and she saw him as his sexual liberator. Yes, that had to be it.
“I mean, it does seem that the entire world is against me. No matter what I do, even when it’s the right thing, I get mocked and ridiculed. I don’t understand why I deserved to have such persecution. Even my own company is conspiring against me. So I ask myself, ‘What’s the point of doing the right thing when I’ll get more enjoyment doing the wrong thing?’, you know?” Adam drew his hand across his chest, trying to show his hurt. That’s right, Doctor, Adam wanted to appear as a wounded bird that needed sympathy and tender loving care to nurse him back to health. He was hitting the 1-2 combo and she will be his.
She sighed, smiled tenderly, showing him he had achieved success. He still had work to do. What other steps could he take to conquer her? A sinister idea crept into his head. She had assigned him a journal that he was supposed to share with her. He was going to jot down his ideas regarding their romantic journey together, including brainstorming some sexual exploits. Of course, at first that would simply be roleplaying, but then he would document their real sordid rendezvouses. Then he finds a publisher, sells it as a book and gets 50 Shades of Grey money and attention. And if he failed, then it would be an expose on this god forsaken place, a real middle finger to this type of brainwashing community that exists in the open! This was almost as bad as those homsexual conversation camps he once heard about.
“Um, Adam. You’re drooling and you haven’t heard a single word I’ve said in the last five minutes?”
Adam shook his head, snapping back to reality. She buttoned up her blouse while she shook her head. What had she said? He noticed she seemed upset. While he was drawing on his brilliant imagination and flowering himself with images of her nude body, she must have confessed to him. That was the only logical explanation for this reaction. The question remained, what should be his response? Should he take the Han Solo response and play coy with a ‘I know’. Or should he take the Leonardo Decarpio approach and paint her a beautiful nude portrait to convey his true feelings.
“Hello? Adam, why are you being unresponsive?”
“Yes.”
“What?”
“Yes. I accept.”
“Then don’t leave him out in the open. This is your therapy bunny, remember? I know you might be disappointed that I won’t bring you a living one, but I think you should really consider this as your new best friend. Open up, let down your guard, and be true to your emotions,” Doctor Lilly tossed him the bunny. Adam caught the ugly creation. It wasn’t even soft or fluffy, a coarse fur covered the stuffed animal’s body. He had left it behind, right outside the door of the notorious kleptomaniac with a sign that said: ‘Don’t Take’. He was disappointed that the man, despite years and years of practice, got caught stealing the bunny. He wanted rid of the awful thing, the lifeless marble ears looked into his soul and he didn’t like it one bit.
“Sorry, I won’t. I was wondering why he went,” Adam commented.
“It’s not like it grew legs and walked away. You left him in the hall with a sign.”
“Ah yes, it’s coming back to me. I thought he was safe there.”
“You’re sure you weren’t trying to get Marge to steal it. I’m asking you, Adam, don’t try to sabotage other patients on their road to betterment because you’re struggling with your own. I’m a little disappointed with you about that and how you treat Pete,” Doctor Lilly now gave him the look. Yes, that disparaging look. The one you don’t typically see until you put a ring on a board’s finger. Then they undergo the metamorphosis of being a sweet hottie, to an out of shape bitch. To make matters worse, it appeared that they skipped the courtship, the hot heavy sex and the ceremony and went right into full martial hell. All in the span of a few minutes. Were they certain that Lily shouldn’t be a patient instead of him?
Adam finally found the perfect response, “I promise, I’ll try better. I think I should get back to my room. Hell, just for you, I’ll try to be nice to Top Bunk Pete. But I have to warn you, he’s a jerk to me. So if he’s feeding you lies about me, I would appreciate you having some faith in me. I do aim to please, baby.”
Doctor Lilly sighed again. He could hear the disgust. What? What did he say that was so wrong? People nowadays, they were so sensitive and EVERYTHING needed to be politically correct. She left him alone in the telephone room. He then lifted the phone again, dialed a few numbers at random and finally found a sex hotline. Yes, they still existed. He proceeded to draw out the reminder of his privilege, collecting high fees for the clinic in a big ‘fuck you’ to the establishment.
————————————-
In the white room with black curtains near the station. This was Adam’s cell, with a modest bunk bed opposite of the black curtains. Top Bunk Pete had been called away giving Adam the first bit of privacy in a few weeks. Adam felt pretty sure they had assigned Pete with the task of spying on him. A few of the clinic workers even confiscated his stash. How would they know that he hid vodka in a mouthwash? How would they know to look into his pillow and take his edibles? Jesus, he was trying to survive and they kept trying to grind him down. But in the middle of the previous night, Adam snuck out of his room and into one of the offices. He then got to see Jessica Turnstile attempt to communicate with the outside world. It was a momentous feat for such a brain damaged monkey trying to use English to convey intelligence, but unfortunately, nothing’s smarter than the human race. Jessica Turnstile was a syphilitic Curious George and rambled nonsense. He almost felt sorry for her until she insulted him, then he knew he had to enlighten the stupid bitch. Once more, the conspiracy against him became even more evident since once more, they assigned him to mentor a bunch of losers. His opponents? They were at least capable of intelligent thought. G-Money seemed like a stupid teenage waste case. And he always discussed Jessica but he really had to drive the point home.
So he whipped out his second smartphone, the one smuggled in his briefs after his last trip into the outside world. He took a few photos to assure that he looked good. Then hit record.
[REC]
“Look at me, Jess. Look at me. It’s time to enlighten your small imbecile mind and let’s hope it doesn’t explode with this onslaught of knowledge,” Adam leaned closer to the camera lens. Any watch would be able to see the pores on his slightly large nose. His nostrils flare with his deep snorts, fogging up the lenses. “I typically don’t take an exception to the handicapped. I get it, SCW hired you on because you were a charity case with the hopes of swindling some good will from the braindead fans. But it’s backfiring, because now you’re going to convince the rest of your quadriplegic buddies that we’re the special effing Olympics instead of a professional wrestling promotion. And if that happens, the Golden Boys are going to have to put some neckbeards in wheelchairs out to pasture. We’re trying to run a business here.”
Adam removed the phone back a little bit so his entire head was in view. He tapped his bald head. “But I figured you out. See, you’re not really what you say you are. You’re pretending. You’re faking having prosthetics to garner sympathy. When I tag your sorry ass out when lich House is treating you like their voodoo doll, I’ll be sure to crack that cheap plastic Halloween costume you wear on your arms and legs. It’s sad that you need to go such lengths to garner sympathy, Jessica Trembling-As-She-Drowns-In-The-Deep-End. It really is. I get it’s hard for a small fish to move into the big pond, and props that you’re manage to avoid being eaten by the bigger fishes but now you’ve got their attention. You’re going to be eaten alive, and then you will find out the hard way that you shouldn’t get cocky over some cupcake wins.
“But you completely lack self-awareness. And that’s a problem.”
“I guess my diagnosis explains your alternate dimension ranting. Tossing out obscure references that no one in their sane mind gets. You’re also spouting out misinformation because you don’t do your homework. It’s okay, it’s okay. What can we expect from someone so special as you? Not a whole lot, but once again this matchmaking by SCW Corporate confirms that there is an active, ongoing conspiracy against me. It’s not only the referees but also management. Why else would I have to carry some bum and some millennial tik-tok? I then look across the card to see who we are put up against? Kennedy Street, Lich House, and Kimberly Williams? Man, oh man, I know we’re the best tag team in the world but that’s a lot of carrying and the motivation to help out Jessica and G-Money isn’t really there. I don’t want to give false hopes to these rookies, jumpstarting their careers by giving them an undeserved mark in the win column over some real talent.” Adam shook his head, hanging it low to showcase his displeasure. He really didn’t want to do anything for them, but the urge to win because he enjoys winning might triumph over his pettiness.
“But I have to. I can’t let SCW step all over me. I can’t let backstage politics derail my illustrious careers. We all saw me pin Kennie, 1-2-3, in the middle of the ring, clean! We all saw the referee disqualify me for such a small infraction against the Lich House! I thought we hired real men to do the officiating, not some bubble blowing baby who happens to dress in stripes,” Adam growled. He spat his disgust on the ground at his feet, before lifting his head. “The only person other than my boy Bison that I hold any respect for is Kimberly, but barely. It’s sad that she’s projecting her losing tendencies onto me. After all, my career here has been illustrious with title reigns under my belt. I challenged for the World Championship, main evented PPVs, AND is still the undefeated United States Champion… and that’s saying something. I get she’s a certain kind of freak who LARP all day and cosplay at conventions, who likes to run with scissors so even though I have a thing for gingers, she’s a little too dangerous for my taste. She’s kinky enough to clip-clip my dick.”
“But where does this leave me?” Adam puts on a puzzled expression, itching his chin while looking up at the ceiling.
“The same place I’m always at. I am in the position to win big and celebrate bigger. See, if I somehow figure out the solution to this quagmire then I’ll continue to prove to the fans at home and in the stands that I’m a wrestling machine, a burning grappling inferno, the hottest star in professional wrestling. The alpha male position befitting of the King of HARDstyle, the All-American, Adam Allocco. I don’t need sympathy. I don’t need cheap rubs, though I’m always interested in a good tug. What do I need? Overdue respect from the locker room and fans alike. A formal apology from Mr. Douchesandwich about this crooked system his incompetence has given birth to. And if my partners fail to carry their weight and cost me this match, then I’ll make it painfully obvious that I did my due diligence.”
“Apocalypse is the end, the end of the world where Adam Allocco is treated like a joke. Choke on your laughter, bitches and welcome to the Adam Show.”
[/REC]
King of HARDstyle 
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