Post by logan on Jan 23, 2009 10:24:24 GMT -5
GIVE
LIVE
LOVE
COKE
The words on the side of the trade marked McDonalds cup stuck out like a three boobed woman, the king of treachery and hotdog's lifted the cold DR. Pepper beverage gulping down trying to wash chewed up hotdog's into his stomach. There he was, sitting at home, camera men in his house.
Logan: I get no privacy whatsoever with WCF. I do get money though.
Relaxing on a thrift store bought couch, he gulped the drink down, a coffee table in front of him littered with half eaten hotdog's and used mustard packets. This wasn't a natural environment for any smart headed wrestler to be in, it was Logan, the word smart meant out witting someone to obtain something free. Preferably hotdog's.
Logan: Davey Boone.
Burping and magically giving the camera attention.
Logan: You think you can just walk you're boudle ass into MY federation without MY permission? You've got a lot of nerve. What's you're deal? Huh? Just walking into this place like you freakin' purchased stock in it. So, like, what's up with that? Hm? SHUT UP! Can't figure out why you're actually here yourself? SHUT UP! I could care two craps less about this so called classic match you speak of? SHUT UP! If you want to do anything for me boudle, buy me a hotdog.
Burps again, his tone weakens.
Logan: Was that any good? You like that. Ah, nice. Nothing personal, Davey, people wanted to hear that.. see, I've got to talk trash about five minutes a week just to maintain "wrestler" status. So, next time I call you a boudle, don't take it seriously.. I'm getting paid to do this. Hm.. grab a coffee and dog sometime?
The half eaten dogs in front of him get attention again, picking two up at a time with each hand, this man is talented. Nodding to the camera with a mouth full of dog the promo ends.
LIVE
LOVE
COKE
The words on the side of the trade marked McDonalds cup stuck out like a three boobed woman, the king of treachery and hotdog's lifted the cold DR. Pepper beverage gulping down trying to wash chewed up hotdog's into his stomach. There he was, sitting at home, camera men in his house.
Logan: I get no privacy whatsoever with WCF. I do get money though.
Relaxing on a thrift store bought couch, he gulped the drink down, a coffee table in front of him littered with half eaten hotdog's and used mustard packets. This wasn't a natural environment for any smart headed wrestler to be in, it was Logan, the word smart meant out witting someone to obtain something free. Preferably hotdog's.
Logan: Davey Boone.
Burping and magically giving the camera attention.
Logan: You think you can just walk you're boudle ass into MY federation without MY permission? You've got a lot of nerve. What's you're deal? Huh? Just walking into this place like you freakin' purchased stock in it. So, like, what's up with that? Hm? SHUT UP! Can't figure out why you're actually here yourself? SHUT UP! I could care two craps less about this so called classic match you speak of? SHUT UP! If you want to do anything for me boudle, buy me a hotdog.
Burps again, his tone weakens.
Logan: Was that any good? You like that. Ah, nice. Nothing personal, Davey, people wanted to hear that.. see, I've got to talk trash about five minutes a week just to maintain "wrestler" status. So, next time I call you a boudle, don't take it seriously.. I'm getting paid to do this. Hm.. grab a coffee and dog sometime?
The half eaten dogs in front of him get attention again, picking two up at a time with each hand, this man is talented. Nodding to the camera with a mouth full of dog the promo ends.
