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Was that dramatic enough of an intro pause for you? Your boy loves to set a stage.

I wanna talk about this season for a second. We're headed into the the last home game of the season, "Under The Hood," LIVE in YO HOOD (depending on your internet connection of course!) The excitement is in the air for everyone; yet mine is missing in action like Chuck Norris, if ya feel me.

"But Sugar? It's UNDER THE HOOD! Why WOULDN'T you be excited?"

Great question internal voice. The proper answer: this should have been a better season. I remember coming back in Canada and that CHIKARA camera tellin' me to let my feelings out before my match with Tim Donst. Yea I was bragadocious like your boy is known to be, but I was also very real. I came back to an alternate universe. Six months changed so much. This was not the Earth 616 I thought I was a part of. I was a man without a squad and trying to figure it out on my own, to admittedly mixed success.

So Wink and his CHIKARAbermetrics step in and are supposed to change my fortunes, yea? That came in the form of being drafted to F.I.S.T.

-takes a breath-

Where to begin?

Icarus, Chuck & Johnny have treated me like a benchwarmer since the moment I stepped into their group. I've adopted their colors and emblem. Come out to their intro tune despite lack of ANY danceability to it. Even tried to work with them on plays and strategies. They refuse all of this. Diss me at every turn. You think I don't hear you guys in the locker room? How you PURPOSELY don't wear your purple gear because you don't wanna match me? Or how you talk down to me because I don't take shortcuts you turkeys use?

This draft has been a failure. I coulda been drafted to The Submission Squad and been more at peace. At least they failed as a real team.

So it's whatever, mane. I can't undo what's been done, but I will NEVER forget what has been stolen from me.

Time.

You can't rebate or refund every breath and moment I've lived under this whack system and trying to fit in with this bunch of squares. I've been trying my hardest to look at this cloud's silver lining. Can you say the same Chuck? How 'bout you, Gargano? Are you even trying to make this strange arrangement work?

Okay. From one issue to another. Can't help but touch on this.

One Saturday night, a pigeon died in Chicago. Nobody knows why; yet had to see how.

Sapphire. Geez, it's still hard to talk about her. The locker room was a dead zone after that match; that same kinda feeling like the last time someone debuted in CHIKARA and had their career ended - Tianlong. This of course, worse. Tianlong's broken bone would eventually heal. Maybe he'll never wrestle again. His career might have been ended; but not his life.

November 10th was a dark night. Another body count to Chicago's growing numbers. 8 competitors entered a match and only 7 came back.

Unacceptable.

Touchdown, I'm sure your karma scale will be weighed soon with The Mysterious and Handsome Stranger doing the tipping, but every moment you associate with MY tag team partner drags him down with you. Dasher is MY partner, MY friend and he may not always see the game you're runnin', but I do.

And Dasher...you REALLY need to get a cell. I'm hoping you're not hot about that punch thing in Chicago. That hand was not intended for you. Me and you need to talk, my dude. About what The Throwbacks was really about. About the things your step-cousin-in-law has been pullin'.

I don't know what's going on any more. With The Throwbacks, with F.I.S.T., with The Colony and The Swarm. Mike Quackenbush is protecting his proteges from invaders, and Jigsaw is protecting us from Quack? Huh? And Jakob, you need to open your eyes. How do we fix this stuff? How do we get back to where we were before things get even worse? I wish I had answers to all these questions.

But I do believe in one thing. It's absolute and unavoidable. As certain as the sun rises and my skin is milk chocolate.

Justice.

Justice is coming to all of us. No matter what we do.

DUNKS