Post by khardaway on Jun 5, 2011 18:50:22 GMT -5
I’ve got nothing too much to say about this week. Right now, I’m gearing myself up for next week. One of the biggest matches in recent WCF history…probably the biggest match since the event where my soon-to-be opponent and current co-champion beat the unmistakable Goliath. But that was almost two months ago. While he was busy beating legends, I was busy becoming a legend by winning the WCF World Championship…the biggest accomplishment in my career. And now, our lives will collide like a head-on train. Hell, they’ve already crashed into each other as it is. Why? Because of the other belt that’s around my shoulder when I walk out to the ring. I didn’t so much ask for it, but hey…yours truly is now a double champion here, so I think I’ll be fine with that.
7 days and some change. It’s going to be a war. It’s not so much about the titles around our shoulders and waists as it is about who IS the best in the world. But as of right now, I have to grind my teeth and suck it up.
Sure, I’ve heard everybody talking. They’re right…me, D-Day, Philip Baines, and Creeping Death together? Holy flurking schnit, that’s a hell of a team. I don’t think there’s been any team put-together like that in the history of this company. But while it may be a superteam on the outside, it’s far from a superteam on the inside. Everybody knows about me and D-Day, but now I have to deal with the man who could blindside me and cash in on a fucking whim. Do you think I give a damn though? Hell no. And I could care less about Creeping Death neither, but hey…it’s a legend, he’s there to make the match seem that much more important, what the hell ever.
I could be talking about my opponents on Monday, but they’re all aware of my presence. Oblivion knows that I’ve kicked his sorry ass in his own element, Doc Henry flaked like a pussy before he could think about getting this belt, Chris Avery…well, who cares about that racist douche, andBrad Kane Reckless Jack…you know, I don’t need to worry about him. I’ll cross that bridge when I come to it. For now, he’s just a gnat along with the rest of them.
This Monday, shit goes down. Next Monday, same shit goes down. Me as the fucking World Champion.
“D”JW
7 days and some change. It’s going to be a war. It’s not so much about the titles around our shoulders and waists as it is about who IS the best in the world. But as of right now, I have to grind my teeth and suck it up.
Sure, I’ve heard everybody talking. They’re right…me, D-Day, Philip Baines, and Creeping Death together? Holy flurking schnit, that’s a hell of a team. I don’t think there’s been any team put-together like that in the history of this company. But while it may be a superteam on the outside, it’s far from a superteam on the inside. Everybody knows about me and D-Day, but now I have to deal with the man who could blindside me and cash in on a fucking whim. Do you think I give a damn though? Hell no. And I could care less about Creeping Death neither, but hey…it’s a legend, he’s there to make the match seem that much more important, what the hell ever.
I could be talking about my opponents on Monday, but they’re all aware of my presence. Oblivion knows that I’ve kicked his sorry ass in his own element, Doc Henry flaked like a pussy before he could think about getting this belt, Chris Avery…well, who cares about that racist douche, and
This Monday, shit goes down. Next Monday, same shit goes down. Me as the fucking World Champion.
“D”JW
