Post by Chief Tom-O-Hawk on Jun 11, 2016 5:17:55 GMT -5
"I am a wrestling GOD .. and that halfwit jabroni Teddy Fucktard Blaze got HIS shoulders pinned to the mat and cost me MY win."
To say the self-proclaimed wrestling god is hot under the collar would be an understatement. Finding out about his upcoming match would send him nuclear. The intensity of his resentment for this match could be calculated in the multiples of Hiroshima bombs. We are currently at one point four.
"A Match against The Empire? Was Seth stoned on his boyfriend's cock-smoke when he made this match? I'm the wrestling god. I'm the stuff songs are written about. And I get to face against The Empire? These hacks that couldn't cut it as serious competitors, switched to hardcore failures, and now come out as a hyper little chipmunk boyband."
His whole body trembles with rage. His face is red, eyes narrowed to laser slits of focus as he paces back and forth within the confines of his Arizona training grounds. He turns to the camera, teeth clenched with white hot fury. After a shuddering breath he rants on.
"Let's tell The Empire what is wrong with this statement. In the music industry, people dream about being a rock star. They dream about having the killer voice, about having the guitar shredding skills of Eddie Van Halen or Jimmy Hendrix. Some dream about being rappers, and others about being jazz musicians, hip hop artists, classical musicians, but nobody .. and I mean NOBODY .. dreams of being in a boyband. NOBODY wants to grow up being Justin Beiber, no matter how many willing twelve year old virgins throw their naked bodies at you."
The look of obvios disgust on his face as he spits onto the floor.
"Yet here is The Empire. The WCF equivalent to Alvin and the Chipmunks in cheap leather jackets. You leap onto the entry ramp like someone jammed red hot fireplace pokers into your nutsacks, and you expect to call this wrestling? Who have you got? Three gay guys, one chick and Adam Young ass fucking the rest of them just to smooth over his ego. An undeserved ego, since his position within the WCF is about that of testing new guys and seeing if the mentaly impaired has beens still have a brain cell or two left to destroy."
"And on the other side of the ring is me. Just lil ol me. The man that has been facing off against the WCF elite this last couple months. This lil ol man that that in last weeks match outshined everybody else in the match. They were contenders .. for the world title .. and a pair of WCF's own champions to boot. And I'm the one that held the best in that match. Blaze lost a sure thing. His week ass couldn't cut it."
Freeze makes a swift motion of his thumb across his throat. Perhaps predicting a future outcome for one Teddy Blaze.
"But this week? Oh wait, different story. I got Night Rider and Drax Durant. Me and Night Rider work well together. Drax Durant is no boy band push-over. Drax doesn't think much of the audience, OR boy band wannabes dressed as eighties soft rockers. He kinda reminds me of .. a younger me. We .. WILL .. work quite well together."
He seems to relax, slightly amused and antertained as he continues on with his proclomation.
"But oh, you say there's more. When I look across at The Empire .. no striking back, this aint no Star Wars book. When I look at The Empire, I see a few names. Adam Young, Peter Pinkerton .. THAT names a ripoff of seventies porn if I'd ever heard one, Jinder Singh, just to prove your worldly people. Vanderbilt, Myra Perez, the six man tag titles from a MUCH lesser organisation and the math says there are eight of you, if we count the belts."
"Eight .. on .. three."
Freeze picks up a camshaft from the floor. 44 pounds of detroit iron in fourty two inches length. His hands grip comfortably around the end, gripping like a baseball bat as his sick, twisted, demented sneer spreads wide across his face.
"And this .. makes four. The empire better bring more people, cuz this Wrestling God comes armed. All Hail Me!"
To say the self-proclaimed wrestling god is hot under the collar would be an understatement. Finding out about his upcoming match would send him nuclear. The intensity of his resentment for this match could be calculated in the multiples of Hiroshima bombs. We are currently at one point four.
"A Match against The Empire? Was Seth stoned on his boyfriend's cock-smoke when he made this match? I'm the wrestling god. I'm the stuff songs are written about. And I get to face against The Empire? These hacks that couldn't cut it as serious competitors, switched to hardcore failures, and now come out as a hyper little chipmunk boyband."
His whole body trembles with rage. His face is red, eyes narrowed to laser slits of focus as he paces back and forth within the confines of his Arizona training grounds. He turns to the camera, teeth clenched with white hot fury. After a shuddering breath he rants on.
"Let's tell The Empire what is wrong with this statement. In the music industry, people dream about being a rock star. They dream about having the killer voice, about having the guitar shredding skills of Eddie Van Halen or Jimmy Hendrix. Some dream about being rappers, and others about being jazz musicians, hip hop artists, classical musicians, but nobody .. and I mean NOBODY .. dreams of being in a boyband. NOBODY wants to grow up being Justin Beiber, no matter how many willing twelve year old virgins throw their naked bodies at you."
The look of obvios disgust on his face as he spits onto the floor.
"Yet here is The Empire. The WCF equivalent to Alvin and the Chipmunks in cheap leather jackets. You leap onto the entry ramp like someone jammed red hot fireplace pokers into your nutsacks, and you expect to call this wrestling? Who have you got? Three gay guys, one chick and Adam Young ass fucking the rest of them just to smooth over his ego. An undeserved ego, since his position within the WCF is about that of testing new guys and seeing if the mentaly impaired has beens still have a brain cell or two left to destroy."
"And on the other side of the ring is me. Just lil ol me. The man that has been facing off against the WCF elite this last couple months. This lil ol man that that in last weeks match outshined everybody else in the match. They were contenders .. for the world title .. and a pair of WCF's own champions to boot. And I'm the one that held the best in that match. Blaze lost a sure thing. His week ass couldn't cut it."
Freeze makes a swift motion of his thumb across his throat. Perhaps predicting a future outcome for one Teddy Blaze.
"But this week? Oh wait, different story. I got Night Rider and Drax Durant. Me and Night Rider work well together. Drax Durant is no boy band push-over. Drax doesn't think much of the audience, OR boy band wannabes dressed as eighties soft rockers. He kinda reminds me of .. a younger me. We .. WILL .. work quite well together."
He seems to relax, slightly amused and antertained as he continues on with his proclomation.
"But oh, you say there's more. When I look across at The Empire .. no striking back, this aint no Star Wars book. When I look at The Empire, I see a few names. Adam Young, Peter Pinkerton .. THAT names a ripoff of seventies porn if I'd ever heard one, Jinder Singh, just to prove your worldly people. Vanderbilt, Myra Perez, the six man tag titles from a MUCH lesser organisation and the math says there are eight of you, if we count the belts."
"Eight .. on .. three."
Freeze picks up a camshaft from the floor. 44 pounds of detroit iron in fourty two inches length. His hands grip comfortably around the end, gripping like a baseball bat as his sick, twisted, demented sneer spreads wide across his face.
"And this .. makes four. The empire better bring more people, cuz this Wrestling God comes armed. All Hail Me!"
