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Glad to see this is still alive! Took me awhile to catch up and I was all about to call this the greatest diary of the year when you finally gave the Wrestling God Anders Thunder the title reign he deserves...

 

....and then I found out that you're putting him on the chopping block by making him one of the 4 guys that can possibly be fired, :mad: so I'm officially withdrawing my proclamation till further developments.

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<p></p><div style="text-align:center;"><p><img src="</p><a href="https://i.ibb.co/6rqm2F6/OWC-Logo.jpg" rel="external nofollow">https://i.ibb.co/6rqm2F6/OWC-Logo.jpg"</a> alt="OWC-Logo" border="0"><p> </p><p>

<strong><span style="font-size:18px;">Land Of The Misfits</span></strong></p><p>

Attendance: 93</p></div><p></p><p></p><p> </p><p> </p><p> </p><p>

</p><p></p><div style="margin-left:25px;"><div style="margin-left:25px;">I am still f*cking furious. Each time I turn I see knowing glances and hidden smirks. Every single one of them will have seen my defaced fairground picture. I will not take this lightly. I will not eat sh*t. I can’t believe someone wrote that on my picture. And they stomped on my apple pie. And they left a... perfectly formed boot print. Hmm, cogs are turning. There’s no time for that now. </div></div><p></p><div style="margin-left:25px;"><div style="margin-left:25px;"> </div></div><p></p><div style="margin-left:25px;"><div style="margin-left:25px;"> </div></div><p></p><div style="margin-left:25px;"><div style="margin-left:25px;">

</div></div><div style="text-align:center;"><p></p><div style="margin-left:25px;"><div style="margin-left:25px;">* * *</div></div></div><p></p><p></p><p></p><div style="margin-left:25px;"><div style="margin-left:25px;"> </div></div><p></p><div style="margin-left:25px;"><div style="margin-left:25px;">

Seth Whitehead opens the show. He’s in a foul mood after being cheated out of the OWC Heavyweight Championship last month at SummerSham. Boo hoo. His whining goes on long enough to attract a response from 6’7” of chiselled Swede, the reigning champion Anders Thunder. With Thunder is his manager Julie Forletta, sporting a neckbrace. It’s only partly for show. When she took the piledriver off Whitehead she went into the mat like a f*cking dart. Ah, memories. Anyway, so Seth’s unhappy with Thunder, Thunder’s unhappy with Seth and I’m unhappy with everyone. Still, it cues up a main event rematch. Seth demands the title, Thunder demands Whitehead’s career. In slow, serious, almost wooden tones he tells Seth - </div></div><p></p><div style="margin-left:25px;"><div style="margin-left:25px;"> </div></div><p></p><div style="margin-left:25px;"><div style="margin-left:25px;">

“Tonight I will leave with my belt... my girl... and the knowledge that I have ended the career of Seth Whitehead. All these things... will please me greatly.” </div></div><div style="margin-left:25px;"><div style="margin-left:25px;"><strong>Rating: D</strong></div></div><p></p><div style="margin-left:25px;"><div style="margin-left:25px;"><strong> </strong></div></div><p></p><div style="margin-left:25px;"><div style="margin-left:25px;"><strong> </strong></div></div><p></p><div style="margin-left:25px;"><div style="margin-left:25px;"><strong>

Phobia vs El Hijo Del Fantasma</strong></div></div><p></p><div style="margin-left:25px;"><div style="margin-left:25px;">

Hmm, my lucha experiment might be catching on. These two have a compelling back and forth outing. I actually found myself nodding along at one point as opposed to nodding off. Some daring high flying action, if a little sloppy, culminates in what Phobia calls Fear Itself. It’s a corkscrew senton or “that flippy sh*t” as Mad Dog Mortimer would tell you. It looks brutal and gives Phobia the win. </div></div><div style="margin-left:25px;"><div style="margin-left:25px;"><strong>Rating: E+</strong></div></div><p></p><div style="margin-left:25px;"><div style="margin-left:25px;"> </div></div><p></p><div style="margin-left:25px;"><div style="margin-left:25px;"> </div></div><p></p><div style="margin-left:25px;"><div style="margin-left:25px;">

I’m out next and I’m in an even worse mood than Seth Whitehead. Happily I’ve brought someone with me. Misery does indeed love company. 6’7”, 360lbs of pure Texan grit, it’s Texas Hangman, and he’s my new enforcer.</div></div><p></p><div style="margin-left:25px;"><div style="margin-left:25px;"> </div></div><p></p><div style="margin-left:25px;"><div style="margin-left:25px;">

“Listen up, you insufferable sh*theads - and that goes for everyone in the back too – I have had it with this place! There’s no respect. I’ve got a cramped bingo hall filled with Iowa’s great unwashed, a useless referee and idiot wannabe wrestlers no one else is gonna touch. This wasn’t how it was supposed to be! No respect. Oh yeah, Silas is going all cowboy tonight. This my friends... is a shoot. Someone comes into my circus and thinks they’re gonna be the ring leader from now on? Someone destroys my personal property and thinks they’re gonna get away with it?! Hey asshole, in the back, I know it was you. I know you destroyed my picture. AND STEPPED ON MY F*CKING PIE!! Come out now. Grow a pair and be a man about it and maybe I’ll go easy on you.”</div></div><p></p><div style="margin-left:25px;"><div style="margin-left:25px;"> </div></div><p></p><div style="margin-left:25px;"><div style="margin-left:25px;">

The curtain remains drawn. No one answers my rantings. I’m convinced half the crowd think I’m having a breakdown. My effort to smoke out the perpetrator went as well as expected. Texas Hangman stands beside me looking a little lost. It’s his first day. He has literally no idea what I’m raving about. Sigh. I was really looking forward to that pie. </div></div><div style="margin-left:25px;"><div style="margin-left:25px;"><strong>Rating: F+</strong></div></div><p></p><div style="margin-left:25px;"><div style="margin-left:25px;"><strong> </strong></div></div><p></p><div style="margin-left:25px;"><div style="margin-left:25px;"><strong> </strong></div></div><p></p><div style="margin-left:25px;"><div style="margin-left:25px;"><strong>

Martyr vs Silas Odswald</strong></div></div><p></p><div style="margin-left:25px;"><div style="margin-left:25px;">

Oh good, now this. I’d forgotten I was in a match tonight. I mean, it makes sense, I usually am. Martyr looks his usual psychopathic self and we engage in a brutal match where I swing wildly for my life and Martyr proceeds to drop me on my head half a dozen times. My head hurts. After the second Powerbomb I think I’m close to blacking out. Martyr signals for the Judgement Slam but something catches his eye. A white glove has appeared through the curtain at the entrance way. It gives a little wave, then the green wig and terrifying grin of Oniji Hanari appear! Martyr bolts from the ring as Hanari disappears back behind the curtain. I hear the referee counting. I can barely stand but somehow I’m declared the victor. </div></div><div style="margin-left:25px;"><div style="margin-left:25px;"><strong>Rating: E</strong></div></div><p></p><div style="margin-left:25px;"><div style="margin-left:25px;"> </div></div><p></p><div style="margin-left:25px;"><div style="margin-left:25px;"> </div></div><p></p><div style="margin-left:25px;"><div style="margin-left:25px;">

Martyr tears through the curtain as referee Gregory ‘Don’t Call Me Greg’ Chapman follows on his shaky handheld camera. Martyr is smashing up tables backstage and puts his foot through a corridor door. The crowd don’t get to see this though as the camera has stopped on Clare South in a low-cut dress. She’s up against the wall by the locker room and has pulled Seth Whitehead in close for some last minute motivation. Planting Seth’s hand on her ass, she runs her fingers up and around her plunging neckline, giving the challenger a broad smile. She whispers something in his ear and gives it a little chew. Seth will be thoroughly motivated but, one would assume, may struggle to wrestle with an erection. He spots Greg and the camera is jerked violently as the peeping referee high tails it outta there! </div></div><div style="margin-left:25px;"><div style="margin-left:25px;"><strong>Rating: E</strong></div></div><p></p><div style="margin-left:25px;"><div style="margin-left:25px;"><strong> </strong></div></div><p></p><div style="margin-left:25px;"><div style="margin-left:25px;"><strong> </strong></div></div><p></p><div style="margin-left:25px;"><div style="margin-left:25px;"><strong>

OWC Heavyweight Championship</strong></div></div><p></p><div style="margin-left:25px;"><div style="margin-left:25px;"><strong>

Anders Thunder (w/ Julie Forletta) vs Seth Whitehead (w/ Clare South) – Cage match</strong></div></div><p></p><div style="margin-left:25px;"><div style="margin-left:25px;">

Oh yeah, we stuck this one in a cage. Julie’s got in the way a couple of times now and it seemed right to encase the ring with steel to keep out a 90 lb woman. Anders doesn’t look too happy but Seth looks positively pumped. The two clash, Thunder with the size advantage but Whitehead with the wrestling smarts and actual ability. The cage plays it’s part as both are sent into the unforgiving steel numerous times. This match is vicious. Bloody and staggering, Whitehead evades a big boot attempt and locks in the sleeper. Old school. Anders Thunder fights it but fails as the darkness draws in. He fails to respond to the ref... and we have a new champion! Seth Whitehead is a two time OWC Heavyweight Champion. </div></div><div style="margin-left:25px;"><div style="margin-left:25px;"><strong>Rating: E+</strong></div></div><p></p><div style="margin-left:25px;"><div style="margin-left:25px;"> </div></div><p></p><div style="margin-left:25px;"><div style="margin-left:25px;"> </div></div><p></p><div style="margin-left:25px;"><div style="margin-left:25px;">

Seth is out celebrating with the fans who look grateful for a moment of genuine happiness in their wretched, unfulfilling lives. Thunder meanwhile picks himself up and looks confused as he turns and walks into Texas Hangman. I should add at this point that I had not told Anders this was happening. I’m out at ringside telling the former champion to “take it.” Hangman slaps a huge paw around the throat of Thunder and delivers an enormous Chokeslam. That’ll show the bastard. </div></div><div style="margin-left:25px;"><div style="margin-left:25px;"><strong>Rating: E+</strong></div></div><p></p><div style="margin-left:25px;"><div style="margin-left:25px;"><strong> </strong></div></div><p></p><div style="margin-left:25px;"><div style="margin-left:25px;"><strong> </strong></div></div><p></p><div style="margin-left:25px;"><div style="margin-left:25px;"><strong>

</strong></div></div><div style="text-align:center;"><p></p><div style="margin-left:25px;"><div style="margin-left:25px;"><strong>Show Rating: E+</strong></div></div><p></p><div style="margin-left:25px;"><div style="margin-left:25px;"> </div></div><p></p><div style="margin-left:25px;"><div style="margin-left:25px;"> </div></div><p></p><div style="margin-left:25px;"><div style="margin-left:25px;">

* * *</div></div></div><p></p><p></p><p></p><div style="margin-left:25px;"><div style="margin-left:25px;"> </div></div><p></p><div style="margin-left:25px;"><div style="margin-left:25px;"> </div></div><p></p><div style="margin-left:25px;"><div style="margin-left:25px;">

The more I thought about it, the more it grinded at my brain, the more it made sense. The huge size sixteen footprint in my apple pie. The anger at being told to relinquish the strap. Could it honestly be anyone else? Motherf*cker wrecked my picture and ruined my pie. He’s done here.</div></div><p></p><div style="margin-left:25px;"><div style="margin-left:25px;"> </div></div><p></p><div style="margin-left:25px;"><div style="margin-left:25px;"> </div></div><p></p><div style="margin-left:25px;"><div style="margin-left:25px;"> </div></div><p></p><div style="margin-left:25px;"><div style="margin-left:25px;"> </div></div><p></p><div style="margin-left:25px;"><div style="margin-left:25px;">

</div></div>

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<blockquote data-ipsquote="" class="ipsQuote" data-ipsquote-username="DarK_RaideR" data-cite="DarK_RaideR" data-ipsquote-contentapp="forums" data-ipsquote-contenttype="forums" data-ipsquote-contentid="46583" data-ipsquote-contentclass="forums_Topic"><div>This is awesome<p> <em>*clap clap clapclapclap*</em></p></div></blockquote><p> </p><p> Thank you dude.</p>
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<blockquote data-ipsquote="" class="ipsQuote" data-ipsquote-username="Blake Trask" data-cite="Blake Trask" data-ipsquote-contentapp="forums" data-ipsquote-contenttype="forums" data-ipsquote-contentid="46583" data-ipsquote-contentclass="forums_Topic"><div>Whoa, was that an actual factual screwjob!?<p> </p><p> That's the best!</p><p> </p><p> </p><p> Only in Oddworld could that be considered the best.</p></div></blockquote><p> </p><p> Thanks man. It wasn’t an actual screwjob like in the game mechanics, just some creative liberty. Hopefully it’ll all fit together in the story.</p>
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<p></p><div style="text-align:right;"><p></p><div style="margin-left:25px;"><div style="margin-left:25px;"><img src="</div></div><a href="https://i.ibb.co/MfYKXGP/OWC-Banner.jpg" rel="external nofollow"></a><div style="margin-left:25px;"><a href="https://i.ibb.co/MfYKXGP/OWC-Banner.jpg" rel="external nofollow"></a><div style="margin-left:25px;"><a href="https://i.ibb.co/MfYKXGP/OWC-Banner.jpg" rel="external nofollow">https://i.ibb.co/MfYKXGP/OWC-Banner.jpg"</a></div><a href="https://i.ibb.co/MfYKXGP/OWC-Banner.jpg" rel="external nofollow"></a></div><a href="https://i.ibb.co/MfYKXGP/OWC-Banner.jpg" rel="external nofollow"></a><div style="margin-left:25px;"><div style="margin-left:25px;"> alt="OWC-Banner" border="0"></div></div></div><p></p><p></p><p></p><div style="margin-left:25px;"><div style="margin-left:25px;"> </div></div><p></p><div style="margin-left:25px;"><div style="margin-left:25px;"> </div></div><p></p><div style="margin-left:25px;"><div style="margin-left:25px;">

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No! Anders was framed! That was totally Seth Whitehead putting that fake footprint using a fake plastic foot! He managed to trick you into giving the belt back to him! :(

 

(Out of curiosity what was the exact action you did that caused Lucas to become loyal?)

 

Maybe he was, maybe he wasn’t. Shrug.

 

Lucas kept on wrestling high and I’d already fined a bunch of times. Then one time I was going to fire him but instead just gave another fine and he suddenly became loyal. Bit odd. Hasn’t stopped him wrestling strung out of his tiny mind though.

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This diary is so awesomely ingenious!

 

Favorite segments/lines -

 

The curtain remains drawn. No one answers my rantings. I’m convinced half the crowd think I’m having a breakdown. My effort to smoke out the perpetrator went as well as expected. Texas Hangman stands beside me looking a little lost. It’s his first day. He has literally no idea what I’m raving about. Sigh. I was really looking forward to that pie.

Seth will be thoroughly motivated but, one would assume, may struggle to wrestle with an erection. He spots Greg and the camera is jerked violently as the peeping referee high tails it outta there!

 

These cracked me up real good. Hehe!

 

After reading this, I got a mood for some pie. Lol.

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<img src="
alt="OWC-Banner" border="0">

 

 

 

Everyone looked a little glum as they trudged, one by one, into the dilapidated bingo hall we call our second home. The building is a bleak eyesore in a neglected part of town - crumbling brickwork framed with rust and hopelessness. I myself had reached a new level of despair as I sought to find the culprit who trashed my beautiful fairground picture. I hadn’t slept in three days and I was determined to resolve this. The low mood was clear for everyone so I called for a meeting in my office. There, gathered under my golden framed graffitied face, I requested everyone to draw a straw from my clenched fist.

 

“We’re going to do a little team building exercise. Something light-hearted to raise our spirits. Each take a straw.”

 

One by one they complied, each drawing a thin plastic tube of varying length and wondering what consequence would be in store for the loser. Clare South looked positively terrified as she drew a particularly short one. And then it was Anders Thunder’s turn. He reached out to grab the last remaining straw but I jabbed it upwards and rammed it into his eye.

 

“Deface my picture will you?! Ruin my pie will you?! I’m surprised you had the nerve to show your face today. Who else wears size 16 boots?? It had to be you, you big gormless oaf! I won’t stand for it. You’re through here! Done! Finished! You're FIRED!!”

 

This went on for a while. Mostly because when I lose my temper it’s quite hard to get it back and also the sleep deprivation wasn’t helping. I felt weird, like, sort of euphoric. Also, I’d just jabbed a near 7 foot man mountain in the eye with a plastic straw and appeared to be getting away with it. I felt invincible.

 

Something smelled weird.

 

Anders roared, but rather than swing for me, he took it out on my door and put a hole in it with one heavy punch. He vowed never to work for OWC again and slammed what remained on the hinges behind him. Everyone else stood still, shocked into silence. I coughed and reminded everyone that they all had jobs to do and to remember: one circus, one circus master. Everyone trooped out. I felt that had been a good morale builder. My morale, not theirs. Obviously. I was just happy that this was now over. All sorted.

 

I noticed a scrap of paper on my desk sticking out from all the other time consuming nonsense apparently required to run a wrestling company. I was sure it hadn’t been there before.

 

 

 

 

Reveal

<table border="0" bgcolor=#FFFFFF><tr><details><summary>

</summary>

<img src="
alt="Letter-to-Silas" border="0">

</summary></details></details></tr></table></details>

 

 

Oh f*ck.

 

I rang Anders Thunder on his cell and he surprised me by answering. I promised him a championship rematch, a lengthy title run, a hefty pay rise and all the stars in the sky... just please come back. The damage was already done though and the giant Swede swore that if he ever saw me again he would pluck my head from my shoulders and crush it like a grape.

 

What have I done?

 

I went to my newly installed drinks cabinet. I reached for my bourbon and the sickening smell hit me.

 

Someone had shat in my cupboard.

 

 

 

 

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