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Posts Tagged ‘XXXtreme Machine’

teh 9roMu

September 13th, 2008
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XXXtreme Machine

[XXXtreme Machine is stood outside the Hamptonshire Country Club trying his best to get past a security guard eating a watercress sandwich.]

Security Guard: I’m sorry sir, this is a privately owned establishment.

XM: byt 1 m T harrkoah#!1

[A gray haired individual in a magenta robe steps beside the guard.]

Chester Hamptonshire: It’s ok Percy, let me give this gentleman a tour of the grounds.

Security Guard: Yes Mr. Hamptonshire.

[The security guard munches down the last of his sandwich with a frown as Chester escorts XXXtreme Machine along the side of the building.]

Chester: These are our grounds, over there you will see both our tennis courts and outside squash courts, and over here you will see our esteemed golf course where we had respected professionals such as Seve Ballesteros and Nick Price compete in our annual tournaments.

XM: dib u hef tehgo wudfz hur~?

Chester: Oh my no, we do not allow negroes on the premises.

XM: vatd reisisd!!”

[Chester Hamptonshire clears his throat.]

Chester: And if you will follow me I will escort you to our swimming baths.

[XXXtreme Machine follows back towards the main building. They walk through a large set of double doors into a white tiled atrium with an azure pool set in the middle of the floor.]

Chester: We have only the finest water flew over to us from the alpine springs to make our swimming pools. I hope this isn’t too forward a question to an individual such as yourself, but if you have a bathing suit with you I must ask if you would care for a dip?

XM: y vuken faj~! t wund tecc muh crovez ufv!!3

Chester: Oh my, I only meant for you to change in our elegantly designed black marble changing rooms and swimming a few laps. I meant no lewd connotations of which you speak.

[XXXtreme Machine hits a weak ass punch to Mr. Hamptonshire and runs back out through the door.]

XM: veez fug9E puth poopul eynt gnu ruyehp ne!1

[XXXtreme Machine runs through the grounds, avoiding the sprinklers and horse laughs of rich people, back to the main gates. The security guard from earlier raises an eyebrow.]

XM: 2huz pr4f sui hllee~~~!

[XXXtreme Machine punches the security guard and props him up on the head of a marble statue. XXXtreme Stunner on the security guard!]

XM: xxXtrim mssjiim si gyh b teh nekz unri wohlt shumpyun hdet mu7tuhs#!

[XXXtreme Machine climbs into a golf cart and drives off into the sunset.]

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Busy, busy, busy. *reboot*

September 10th, 2008

Watch The Rant!

Hello, BOB faithful. Stupendous Steve Hawkings here. I’m sorry that I have been absent from your screens as late, but this has been a very busy month for me. First a minor computer virus affected my speech synthesizer, causing me to sound like the unfortunate offspring of Minnie Mouse and the Terminator. Then I was kept busy assuring people that the Large Hardron Collider would not destroy the entire planet when it was switched on. I can inform you that my calculations indicate it will probably only ever destroy an area the size of Detroit. Sadly, my plan to use it to actually destroy Detroit has suffered a setback. Oh well, there’s always next year. Stay smart, BOB-sters. Not as smart as me, obviously, but do your best.Oh, and Extreme Machine. Prepare for hell on wheels. You freaking moron.

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I’M HARDCORE GOD DAMNIT!

September 5th, 2008
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[A pan of eggs are frying in a pan. Sizzling like a hot summer day. Captain Rubbish stumbles drunkenly through the door, wearing a leather jacket and smelling of fish, dried up superglue and burnt rubber. He grabs the pan by the handle and smacks it against his head repeatedly before looking into the camera.]

Captain Rubbish: Brawlers on the Budget! Captain Rubbish is my name and I am the most hardcore wrestler you will ever have step in your squared circle dude.

[He licks one of the eggs out of the scalding hot oil to prove his point.]

Captain Rubbish: XXXtreme Machine, Mr. Intensity, Violent Pacifist… they aint got nothing on me brother, and I will prove it any time I step into that ring, shine up my fist real good, and punch, kick and brainbuster my way to the top! You might only have a hardcore title for women, but I will prove myself to the millions and billions of BOB fans that I am the most hardcore wrestler to ever step foot in a Brawlers on the Budget ring.

[He slams the microwave door on his head a few times, rubs a hot iron on his face and tries to climb into the washing machine before the camera fades to static.]

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Re: Evil-Lution

August 22nd, 2008

Steve Studnuts

~~~Steve Studnuts is in his giagantic home in Phoenix, Az, channel surfing between scat porn and BOB promos… because shitting on people is funny.~~~

Studs: Well gatdamn, son! You took that “less is more” statement literally, didn’t ya? Congratulations.

It’s your:
BEST…..PROMO….EVER.

Heh.

~~~He picks up his cell phone~~~

Studs: Pardon me, fuck stick. I have to call my “partner”.

~~~He presses a single button and waits~~~

Studs: Come on, faggot. Pick up.

~~~A split sceen emerges. Dr. Silaconne M. Plants is seen a bit worse for wear, nervously thumbing through a leaflet in his office entitled: “Augmentations For Dummies.”~~~

(((A ringtone similar to Sade’s “Smooth Operator” is heard.)))

Dr. Silaconne M. Plants

SMP: Hello?

Studs: Hi. Who’s this?

SMP: Huh? You called me. Who’s this?

Studs: What’s your favorite scary movie?

SMP: What?

Studs: Come on! What’s your favorite scary movie?

SMP: Who is this?

Studs: A SCARY MOVIE SURVEY GUY! Just answer the fuckin’ question.

SMP: Oh, okay. I’ll say… hmmmm.

Studs: Do you like scary movies? Come on, what’s your favorite. It’ll be fun.

SMP: I think “Blazing Yarmulkes” might be scary… but I’m going to say “The Sound of Music.”

Studs: Is that the one where the guy has KNIVES for fingers?

SMP: No, that’s Nightmare on Elm Street.

Studs: Really? Say, what’s your name?

SMP: Didn’t you call me? You should know my name. I’m a very famous professional wrestler. Dr. Silaconne M. Plants! Heard of me?

Studs: No.

SMP: Oh, well I’m VERY famous. But anyway, why do you want to know my name?

Studs: I just wanted to know who I was lookin’ at. Umm, I mean….talkin’ to.

SMP: What did you say?

Studs: I’m goin’ to gut your girlfriend like a fish! With my dick!AGAIN!

~~~Steve hangs up.~~~

Studs: BWAAAHAAAAHAAAA!

~~~Steve composes himself.~~~

Studs: Alright Axl, back to you.

First of all…kudos on becomin’ XXXtreme Machine’s new cumpot. But I guess your loose lips, in addition to makin’ you a good cumpot, have now gotten you into some trouble.

I heard a rumor in the locker room that your faggot ass and your faggot brother are lookin’ for the tag-straps. Big mistake, jerkweed.

But if you two choad smokers can ever MAKE it to a title match, I’ll deal with you then.

And that will be the day that you die. Miss American fuckin’ pie.

P.S. I fucked Michelle.

Goodbye, dick gulper!

~~~static~~~

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Dew Drops

August 4th, 2008
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Kevin the Pyromaniac

[Kevin stands a lifesize mannequin made to look like Trey Vincent in his backyard. A girl named Jasmine, dressed in a red, blue and green plaid skirt and a gray t-shirt stands nearby eating the seeds out of a pomegranate.]

Jasmine: My brain has gone fuzzy, do we have to do this?

Kevin: Trey’s only weakness is women, I have to use that against him.

Jasmine: But it’s pro-wrestling, isn’t that just people making it look like they’re hurting each other?

Kevin: Whoever told you that must have their brain in pieces and fused to their skull.

[Kevin lifts up his shirt to reveal a scar across his belly.]

Kevin: You think I got that from ‘pretending’?

Jasmine: You got that from eating too many fried foods, don’t pretend you’re Mick Foley all of a sudden.

Kevin: Bitch, don’t make me beat you with a waffle iron.

[Kevin casually lifts the Trey mannequin up by the feet and smacks his head on a stone repeatedly.]

Jasmine: Splitting a manequin open isn’t going to prove anything.

[Kevin throws the mannequin at Jasmine to catch.]

Kevin: I just need some sort of distraction, sports entertainers use them all the time. That Buffy bitch wont be out there for him to stare at her ass while I do a roll-up. I need something or someone to catch his eye and make him swell with pride, because he’s an iAd motherfucker. That bastard wont go down with any lead pipe, skull crushing tactic I could use against the likes of XXXtrem Machine.

[Kevin grabs the mannequin.]

Kevin: Now shake your ass about and I’ll pretend like he’s captivated.

[Jasmine does so, and goes through a Diva-like routine of dancing about and half pulling up her skirt.]

Kevin: Now all we need is some gang member in a red bandana to do a run-in and win me the match. God I miss Bruce.

[Kevin spins the ‘staring’ mannequin around and DDTs him.]

Kevin: One, two, three and Generic Ref is holding my hand up in victory.

Jasmine: You’re not Jake the Snake Roberts either.

Kevin: I ought to feed you to the worms and water your grave with a watering can.

Jasmine: But then you wouldn’t have a sexy female distraction, ooh I’m split.

Kevin: Just hook that Trey mannequin up to that tree so I can use him as a punching bag… I swear, even without your help, Trey Vincent will be pushing up daisies come Power Is Stolen.

Jasmine: And you’ll be pushing up Daffodils in Amsterdam with that attitude.

[Kevin holds his arms out in front of his face and stretches them out to the side.]

Kevin: Don’t act up, I may be stupid and drunk, but I’ll still shove a sparkler up your ass.

Jasmine: I’m out, you can ask that Alexia tramp or that Italian bitch to help you, but I wont.

[Kevin throws a glass of lemonade at her face and she storms off, leaving him to smack the Trey mannequin with shovels and a smile.]

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Starting small.

July 10th, 2008
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[The study of “Stupendous” Stephen Hawking. The genius himself sits before a roaring fire, a snifter of brandy close at hand. Much good that that will do him, but it’s a nice set dressing, I suppose. Steve blinks meaningfully at us and speaks.]

[Well, you know what I mean.]

Watch the Rant!

Extreme Machine.You are not just the lowest rung on the ladder as far as wrestlers go. You are the lowest rung on the evolutionary ladder as far as our species is concerned.

I shall begin my climb to the highest echelon of BOB with you, you semi evolved primate.

You shall be the first to fall before me, and I shall show no quarter as you lie squirming before my wheels.In science fiction, space and time warps are a commonplace concept.

They are used for rapid journeys around the galaxy, or for travel through time.But in reality, the only timewarp you will experience is when I hit you so hard that you wake up a week later with no memories of what has occured.Ha.Ha.Ha.You are so burned.I'm Steven Hawking.

The Smartest Man in Wrestling. Buy my books.

[Fade out]

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Load *New Wrestler,8,1

July 9th, 2008
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Watch the Rant!

You think you have seen it all in BOB?You think you're something special?You think wrong.The most intelligent wrestler ever to enter the squared circle is on his way.Everyone will fall before my wheels.

From extreme machine to whoever the O W T T M Champion is right now.I'm everything you want to be, but will never be.Smarter.Tougher.More famous.Slightly less mobile.I just hope the ring is wheelchair accessable.`Stupendous` Steve Hawkings.I'm on my way.To Big Bang the hell out of you.

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Garbage ‘n’ Weapons

May 22nd, 2008

Trey Vincent

[We open at Trey Vincent’s office, which is — sadly — his apartment, because BOB no longer has corporate offices as a result of that Comedy Central fiasco. Trey is seated in a black leather chair in front of a computer monitor, which sits atop a generic folding table (the same kind that guys usually get put through on wrestling shows, you know the kind). A framed picture of Sarah “The Jobber Slayer” can be seen over his left shoulder.]

TV: Greetings, humans. I know what you’re thinking. Trey, you’re doing a Rant? But you don’t have a match this week on iMPLOSION 7. WTF? This is true. But I come with a message for all BOBsters to read, or hear, or whatever. That idiot underling, Ted, forgot to mention something important about the Royal Flush Rumble weapon match. You get to pick your weapon. Now, this is important, because if YOU don’t pick your weapon…

[Trey picks up a Darth Vader mask and puts it on.]

TV: I WILL! Hooooo. Heeeee. Hoooo. Heeeee.

[Trey takes off the Vader mask.]

TV: Who the fuck is Garth Vader? And how the hell did Axl get into the Beer in the Belly Match? Didn’t I, or somebody very similar to me, say that to get in the BITB match that you had to have never won the ONLY WORLD TITLE THAT MATTERS? Didn’t Izzy have the title for like two seconds or something? I’ll get back to you in a second, Gilby.

TV: Also, I didn’t hear from Mr. Paradox this week, so he’s in the Royal Flush match. It’s amazing how my own underlings won’t even reply to my PMs. Bastards. So, to Death, XXXtreme Machine, Dr. Silaconne M. Plants, Mr. Paradox, Luke Warm, Pigeon, The Great, and Duff, pick your weapon, or I’ll pick it for you! What will you get?

[Trey looks around.]

TV: Well, you might get such great items, as, uh, a circular for the local supermarket. And we all now how dangerous newspapers are! Or, maybe…

[Trey looks around. Trey drags a plastic trash bag in front of him.]

TV: An empty pasta box. Oh, I’ve got tissues boys. You think Sarah’s snot is gonna propel you to the final eight in the Grand Slam tournament? Maybe we’ll find out. What else is in here…bananas peels, an empty diet soda can, crushed water bottles. Oh, don’t look at me like that. Fuck the earth, fuck recycling and fuck Al Gore. You want a weapon, you name it. Or you’ll get my garbage.

[Trey turns around and checks his email.]

TV: Ah, excellent. Looks like SMP has already weighed in with his weapon of choice. This pleases me.

[Trey turns around.]

TV: Now, as for the rest of you. Choose your weapon. Or suck on my garbage. That is all for now. One other thing. I’ll shortly be getting out my famous deck of Hooters cards to determine the order of entrance. It will be random. And it may take a while. *Ahem* Right. So, back to Matt Sorum. I don’t know who this Garth Vader is, but this stupidity is going to end soon. I don’t know who this Superior Power is, but so help me if it’s BigBOSS, or Seth Harker, or, ME, I’ll be so pissed. I’m the most Superior Power in BOB so it must be me, which SUCKS, because I can’t stand Axl or Pigeon or any of those guys. In the words of your own latest member, “hell yeah, you fucking suck.”

TV: Until we meet agayne…

[Cut.]

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xxxtemre hikoo!!!

April 24th, 2008
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XXXtreme Machine

well kik ur asses
alx smith n litl gud!
cuz u rnt xxxteme!

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Destiny Await Thee…

January 30th, 2008
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Axl

Book of Axl – Chapter 1

“And yay he walked upon a New Horizon… He sought a cup of gold.”
“Yet gold was taken from him, with not a sip to taste.”
“He forged onward… into the Valley of Death…”
“… With eyes set upon only vengeance.”

“A carnival of hollowed eyes.”

“A canopy of delieverance.”

“A sheltered documentary of abysmal radiance.”

“Mo-squi-to.”

[Camera opens in a flash to the eyes of our Holy Father… Axl. His eyes, red… veins… shot, as the roots of a mighty oak.]

[His is not to have had sleep, but to Believe that with boundless time spent upon the task at hand…]

[… there would come a new dawn.]

[Our Savior stares point blank into the camera’s shining lens…]

“Sunday Morning Chloroform.”

“33.”

“In one day’s time, an impact occured which shake-ethed the entire world of this sport… this sport of king’s… To its very foundation.”

“Not that it had that much going for it… Hell, by then, a decent match occuring on live television shocked the holy living be-jeezus out of people, but that’s beside the point…”

“But to it’s foundation it shake-ethed anyway. And who shook-ethed thou cloven trou? Who, with one swing of thy be-jinkered guitar, and with a whip-snap crash did he usher in the beginninings of a new day?”

“Axl.”

“Me.”

“Axl.”

“…”

“AXL.”

“I DID. I, and I alone, made the most impact upon his debut in the entire illustriously illustrious historical history of time and span of what which is known thine as BoB.”

“Everyone and anyone that has began their trek before OR after my monumentolous introductification has PALED IN COMPARISON… to my splendor.”

“My gloriousinitalness.”

“My…”

“GREAT…ness.”

“…”

“And yet.”

“And yet, ever since the very BEGINNING, the VERY beginning, THE very beginning… There has been one man.”

“One unholy, unrighteouss, unclean, unkempt, unWORTHY individual…”

“That has known within his heart of hearts…”

“That if-in-eth one man, should become-eth an immortal… And if-in-eth he would to walk-eth through the Gates of Light… and IF-IN-ETH he and he alone extend-eth his palm and felteded upon the rich texture of the Cup of The Most Powerful Gold on High… AND IF-IN-ETH… and this is a BIG if-in-eth… The cup were to accept him as the one and only TRUE master…”

“Then there would be no choice for that man… that wretched waste of human flesh… Not the guy with the ‘if-in-eths’ and whatnot, but the other guy… but to bow out… and hand his throne to he that deserve-eth it.”

“There is one man that has placed obstacle… after obstacle… after OBSTACLE in mine path.”

“My first match. SMC 34. I lost. And any man, and any woman, and any child, and any inanimate object with even HALF a brain… except for perhaps the inanimate object… would KNOW that a GOD does NOT lose his first match.”

“He does the opposite.”

“Which is… WIN it.”

“But DID I win? No. … And you would have known that, had you’d been paying attention. Dumbass.”

“And it continued.”

“Swiss Army Title. Living in Sin. Your Savior faced a man by the name of Mr. Paradox. And was SCREWED. Indeed, I walked away with the title. And at first glance you COULD say that, twas Paradox who twas screwed.”

“But you’d be wrong.”

“For you see, that event should have been my night. It should have been my night to prove to the fans… the world… myself… to prove that I was no ordinary, run-of-the-mill wrestling “superstar”. I was a SuperNOVA. I should have had the chance to prove that I could defeat that snivling toad with both hands, both feet, and an ear tied behind my back. But did I receive that chance?”

“No.”

“Instead, the fans were left with the impression that some… PIRATE… named Xamfar… Xamfor? Regardless of his name, he was displayed there-ah-lee upon-eth these wretched morsels of filth and decadence which that call-eth themselves FANS… He was perceived by THEM to be the deciding factor in my obtaining the Swiss Army Title.”

“It shouldn’t have been… but there it was. As plain as day, as clear as crystal, as… smooth… as silk. Fuck, that doesn’t work… you get the picture. It happened. And once ah-gayn, it continued…”

ComeBack’s a Bitch… two matches, one night. I not only had to participate in the first ever “The Faster and More Furious, The Better” competition, but it twas I, with just cause, saddled with a Swiss Army Title defense. And when I say WITH just cause, I mean the only reason I was given when I searched for an answer to such idiotic booking, was – ‘Just cause.’ Bumble-headed FOOLS!”

“Yes, the ‘TFMFB’ competition… with a shot at the OWTTM on the line. And even THOUGH-ALY I had a shot at the OWTTM already, I DESERVED two. Everyone needs a warm-up. Even Gods.”

“But some punk kid named Corvon the Arachnophobiac or Steven the Nymphomaniac or some gobbledy-gookish garbage such as that stripped it away from me.”

“And then?”

“AND THEN?!”

“In the cruelest twist of fate, a hand of cards dealt down upon-eth me in rave resucitation, I had the Swiss Army Belt STOLEN away from me…”

“By Death.”

[The camera zooms out just a scoch, now finding the entirety of Axl’s face… drenched in the black and white paint which has become one of his trademarks.]

“Death… you believe, in that thick skull of yours, that you can evade me for ever?”

“You began something that night. Something that will forever fester upon me as a scar about mine flesh…”

“You STOLE my Swiss Army Title… and then, after I won the OWTTM at Mano e Zeno… just when I thought my destiny… the PROPHECY had been fulfilled? You swept it all away from beneath my feet…”

[… Uhm, actually Axl, it was XXTreme Machine that pinned you for the OWTTM…]

“THAT NEVER HAPPENED!”

[But it’s in the record books…]

“Lalalalalalalalalalalala -”

[Ugh… I can’t believe I suck up to this guy so damn much for so little pay…]

“So yes Death, you’ve ripped my dreams apart time and again. But yet you… you are not the One.”

“For it continued.”

“At Massively Cool, I was in a tag match. And I was stuck with the Loseriest Boobie Loser in the Game that’s a Loser and Loses Alot Cuz He’s a Loserly Loser, Silliputti M. Putz. And on the opposite side of the ring? Nurse Heiney… and Death. But it wasn’t Death who screwed me over this time, oh-ho-HO no… Not even Nurse Heineken. Twas the pontificatingly hazardonious SMB that which had done-eth me the dirty deed.”

“He was in on it. Mr. Paradox? He too was in on it. As was his fellow sinners in Dimension E D C G P V T hamburger . Henry the Polkamaniac? In on it. And of course Big Deathy DROOL was in on it…”

“But were any of them the TRUE enemy?”

“No.”

[The camera begins to zoom out ever so slowly, as Axl continues speaking…]

“People of this forsaken world of deflangulicousness… There is but one TRUE enemy.”

“One man that has caused me suffering for over one whole YEAR.”

“Today… I stand before you a bloodied… broken man.”

“But NOT a beaten man.”

“And I stand here… upon rich sand… palm trees in the distance… ocean as far as thy eye can see…”

“For I stand here… broken… bloody… but I stand here as a man with the one thing that HE does not have.”

“Something he wants.”

“Something I have.”

[The camera continues to zoom out. Until…]

“… A reservation at a Hawaiian hotel, BITCH!”

[The camera now fully gathers the view… the sand is littered with trash. The ocean… awash with pollution. The trees… dead.]

[And the hotel… well, really, it’s a motel. In fact, it’s perhaps THE most crappiest, run-down, hell hole of an establishment on the entire island. But nevertheless… it IS Hawaii. … Sorta.]

[Axl, bedecked in flapping, black trenchcoat and customary poser kit, is looking solemnly into the camera… almost through it… His hair partly covers his right eye, which is the style for all good little goth posers.]

“Yes, THE GREAT… I’m right here, smack dab in the middle of the very same place your hag of a wife is bitching her fool head off about. She’s missing this… the splendor… the luxury. And who could blame her, I mean, this place is totally GORGEOUS, babe. [looks around him] … Well, ok, so it’s not entirely THE hottest spot on the isle, but hey, it’s better than anything YOU could afford! And while Jim, Joe, Prophet, Pigeon, Pete, Steve, raYne, Tony, Viruz, and my lovely Rose all enjoy this resort, soaking it up until Totally Dead rolls around, you’ll be back at home… sitting on your ass. Tapping away at a PS2 controller, and hoping upon hopes that you learn SOMETHING, ANYTHING that will save your soul from the unbridled fury of a hundred hounds of hell. Or atleast a poodle or two. A schnauzer, maybe. A schnauzer from hell. …”

“But Great… I want you to know. I want you to know… you can’t keep a secret from me. And you can’t hide the TRUTH from the world forever.”

“It’s time it all came out. Because Great… I do know the Truth. And the Truth is, …”

“YOU were behind it.”

“2007… the year that should have been mine… that should have belonged to ME. It was ruined… and it was ruined by one man and one man alone.”

“YOU.”

“Don’t you dare even think for a second you can slip the Truth behind these blood-shot eyes. Because Great, it all makes sense. The puzzle just fits together like pieces to a jig-saw… uh… puzzle.”

“You tried to pull the wool over everyone’s eyes. You tried to skew everyone’s vision. But mine? My vision is 20/20. And I saw it from day one.”

“From day one, SOMEONE was wrangling together each and every one of the obstacles… the hazards that stood in the center of the road of my journey to the destination of my GLORY.”

“The Drunken Irish Fags.”

“They never Truly existed. In reality, they were Lori and Nick in disguise. Lori didn’t mind playing a gay guy. Nick… surprisingly didn’t either.”

“So when they eliminated me from the Swiss Army #1 Seed Battle Royale on SMC34? Truth is, I didn’t REALLY lose my first match.”

“Lori just scared the holy living fuck out of me with her femstache, so I had no choice but to eliminate myself. Simple as.”

“Xamfar.”

“Pretty simple. Little Johnny, brilliant mastermind that he is, built a cybernetic pirate, taped a stuffed parrot on his shoulder, and programmed bits of Xamfyr’s mind into the robot’s A.I. using old BoB Betamax Discs. He then sent this pirate, robot, Xamfer hybrid out to SCREW ME LIKE A DOG! A WHIMPERING, COWERING DOG, WITH A TUBE-SOCK FOR A TAIL! Damn Johnny… The little bastard.”

“You replaced Bruce the Kleptomaniac with one of those Mexican midgets from Smackdown’s ‘Juniors’ Division. You know, that way he wouldn’t job. You ORCHESTRATED the swerve by Sillicone M. Potent, to have him leave me in the middle of my tag match against Nurse Hymen and Death. Because let’s face it. Without you bribing him with like, a week’s supply of mayonnaise, there’s honestly no chance in HELL he’d leave a mega-star, such as myself, high and dry. And I’m talkin’ the real GOOD mayonnaise. High dollar stuff.”

“Because, Great? He knows better… and so do you.”

“But the one person who doesn’t know better? Death. And I know… I just KNOW, without a shadow of a doubt, that he’s been your inside man all along. The man that, while you “supposedly” weren’t a part of this company, he was putting the pawns in place… shifting the gears into motion… turning the key, starting the ignition, revving up the motor… and other phrases synonymous with ‘kicking things off’.”

“And when you first appeared on that building? The Rooftop Rumble, November in Nowhere?”

“You two had been planning it for MONTHS.”

“Picking your spot… and when you had me aligned right where you wanted me?”

“POW!”

“Trigger pulled. Statement… made. And buddy boy… you made your statement.”

“You told me, withought speaking a word, that you thought, somewhere in that orangutan-brained head of yours, that somehow you were better than me. And that if you could get an Original like Death on your side, then maybe, just maybe, you might just stand a chance of taking that strap.”

“You’d take me out of contention.”

“You’d save Death from the human onslaught that IS Axl.”

“You’d get your measly little title shot.”

“But then… you’d face the inevitable.”

“You’d screw it to holy living hell, no matter if I interfered or not.”

“And in the end, the only man that’d come out on top?”

“… Would be Death.”

“But Great… I knew better.”

“While you and Death spent over 12 months plotting and planning and conniving, it only took me one month to put MY plan into motion.”

“For you see, dear sweet Great, I have done something… which you could never anticipate.”
“Something that shall seal your fate. Something that, once you’ve realized it’s True scope, you shall hate.”
“Something in which you have already taken the bait. And babe… it’s just too… damn… late.”
“Right out of the gate, you’ve already been served your plate, and all that’s left to do is wait.”

“Already set in stone IS the date… but in addition to the match, something else I shall integrate.”

“Something… eeeviiil.”

“Great… why do you honestly believe I took on the role of referee in your match?”

“Do you think I HONESTLY wanted to screw you?”

“HA! Don’t make me laugh. Great, I couldn’t care LESS whether you are, or aren’t the champion.”

“For that matter, I couldn’t care less if Death, SMP, or hell, Billy f’n Pollar held the belt.”

“Because, jack? No matter who holds the title, if I wanted to, I could take it. It’s only a matter of when, not a question of who. Or even how, where, why, or what.”

“The sole reason I did what I did at New Horizon is thus;

I want to fight you.

I not only want to fight you, but I want to BEAT you.

Into the ground.

Around the ring.

Into the rafters.

Up and down the aisles.

Backstage.

In the streets.

To Hawaii…

To Nowhere…

To Kalamazoo, and all the way back to Sin City.”

“Great… as Me as my witness, at Totally Dead, I SHALL finally… FINALLY… have my vengeance.”

“And I want it in a no-holds-barred, anywhere-falls, no-disqualifications, Sin City STREETFIGHT.”

“For one year… One whole year. I’ve allowed you to get away with practically murder. I’ve allowed for you to creep along, just so you could ‘make your mark’.”

“But Great… you chose the wrong man to use as an example.”

“I am… no man’s example.”

“I Am… the TRUE Future of ‘Brawlers’, no matter how hard you practice on ‘Know Your Role’ and ‘Shut Your Mouth’.”

“And I AM…”

“… The only thing Truly ‘Great’ left in this industry.”

“And don’t you forget it.”

~ Follow me… There’s not that much else to do around here. ~

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