Post by megtorlas on May 9, 2007 16:07:09 GMT -5
Geez, I figured after the resurrection of a brand that should've stayed dead, they'd at least make some changes around the place. Ha! The place is still a complete piece of shit, just the names of the losers who decorate the pictures are different. Whoop-de-fucking-do, and here I thought there was going to be competition. This is the best they can do?
Apparently I'm in a group of people returning to PCW because more than just the fans are getting bored with it. They want me to announce my presence, so they'll have some idea who I am before I'm scheduled for my first match for the second time. What a hopping good time that's going to be! Go ahead, Mr. Cameraman, fire away.
"This place sucked when I left, and it appears it's gotten worse. When I was here before, I went undefeated against some of your best, and then you closed down, only because you knew that I'd take over the entire roster if you gave me enough time. You'd rather not exist than get your asses kicked that badly. I understand, nothing personal. "
"Now I'm supposed to come back and be entertaining for you all, right? I'm supposed to give a shit about these fans and my fe,llow wrestlers for the good of the business? How am I supposed to take that seriously when Chief We Take'um Your Money is out in a desert blathering on about dishonoring his people? Apparently there's more than hashi in that peace pipe, you little dumb fuck. Grow a set of testicles to go along with the spine you're sorely missing and be a man for the first time in your life. I don't give a damn what tribe you are, I'll still beat you bloody. That goes for all of you; I don't give a shit if it is considered a Hate Crime. Every match I have will be considered a Hate Crime after a little while."
"Who's the champion around here now? When I left, it was some little pirate pissant who thought he was hot shit because he beat some blue haired wizard or something. Well Reaper, er excuse me, there are two Reapers here and neither one of them is Grimm, what the fuck is wrong with you people? Is this pseudo-demonic shit supposed to be intimidating. God you're all pathetic. That's right, the championship is vacant. That means the best one of you ingrates is: NO ONE! You've got Reapers, Grimms, Grimm Reapers , Chief Wompum, and oh, we've got two musicians here too! Rock and roll, motherfuckers! Jacob Roth and James Keenan are both showing us how cool they are with the with their flying V's and tight leather pants. I guess that's before they head down to Stallion's and rock out with each other? I'll buy you a Judas Priest t-shirt later. For now just please stay out of my way. I don't feel like watching my ass that much."
"If you still don't get it, I don't like any of you. I think you're all a bunch of pathetic inbreds who should be banned from breathing. Go join the Swallow a Bullet club before I have to listen to any more of your emo bullshit. Before you know it, I'll win that stupid championship belt, even though I don't need the proof that I'm better than every single one of you. I won all my matches last time, I don't see it changing this time around. Here's to ya, losers."
I flip off the camera with a double bird.
"You all suck, I'm out."
I walk away from the camera because I can't stand the smell of fried chicken and cologne anymore. I guess he's getting paid under the table, since the job interview process would've likely lasted about negative three seconds. That's probably how they find most of their 'talent' around here as well. Sneak 'em in, sniff 'em, keep 'em in crates until their matches, and then let the little stinky puppets dance. Fun times for everyone.
Apparently I'm in a group of people returning to PCW because more than just the fans are getting bored with it. They want me to announce my presence, so they'll have some idea who I am before I'm scheduled for my first match for the second time. What a hopping good time that's going to be! Go ahead, Mr. Cameraman, fire away.
"This place sucked when I left, and it appears it's gotten worse. When I was here before, I went undefeated against some of your best, and then you closed down, only because you knew that I'd take over the entire roster if you gave me enough time. You'd rather not exist than get your asses kicked that badly. I understand, nothing personal. "
"Now I'm supposed to come back and be entertaining for you all, right? I'm supposed to give a shit about these fans and my fe,llow wrestlers for the good of the business? How am I supposed to take that seriously when Chief We Take'um Your Money is out in a desert blathering on about dishonoring his people? Apparently there's more than hashi in that peace pipe, you little dumb fuck. Grow a set of testicles to go along with the spine you're sorely missing and be a man for the first time in your life. I don't give a damn what tribe you are, I'll still beat you bloody. That goes for all of you; I don't give a shit if it is considered a Hate Crime. Every match I have will be considered a Hate Crime after a little while."
"Who's the champion around here now? When I left, it was some little pirate pissant who thought he was hot shit because he beat some blue haired wizard or something. Well Reaper, er excuse me, there are two Reapers here and neither one of them is Grimm, what the fuck is wrong with you people? Is this pseudo-demonic shit supposed to be intimidating. God you're all pathetic. That's right, the championship is vacant. That means the best one of you ingrates is: NO ONE! You've got Reapers, Grimms, Grimm Reapers , Chief Wompum, and oh, we've got two musicians here too! Rock and roll, motherfuckers! Jacob Roth and James Keenan are both showing us how cool they are with the with their flying V's and tight leather pants. I guess that's before they head down to Stallion's and rock out with each other? I'll buy you a Judas Priest t-shirt later. For now just please stay out of my way. I don't feel like watching my ass that much."
"If you still don't get it, I don't like any of you. I think you're all a bunch of pathetic inbreds who should be banned from breathing. Go join the Swallow a Bullet club before I have to listen to any more of your emo bullshit. Before you know it, I'll win that stupid championship belt, even though I don't need the proof that I'm better than every single one of you. I won all my matches last time, I don't see it changing this time around. Here's to ya, losers."
I flip off the camera with a double bird.
"You all suck, I'm out."
I walk away from the camera because I can't stand the smell of fried chicken and cologne anymore. I guess he's getting paid under the table, since the job interview process would've likely lasted about negative three seconds. That's probably how they find most of their 'talent' around here as well. Sneak 'em in, sniff 'em, keep 'em in crates until their matches, and then let the little stinky puppets dance. Fun times for everyone.