Obsidian Air..


So you mean to tell me your part rock and part air? What kind of hillbilly fuckyass name is that? You look like ten pounds of sheep shit in a five pound bag. And probably smell twice as bad. Goddamn Federweight champion living in a cardboard box, sucking off business men for one more toke on the crystal. Ain't you got any pride, son? You look like the type that would wear a hat that says #1 Grandad and ain't even got no grandkids. Tell me, bud. How the hell do you fuck yourself so hard that you end up living on the goddamn street? Did you buy Jim Caedus’ self help tape “How to alienate yourself from society and cook meth in your bathtub.”?


You ain't fit to shine the cow shit from my old work boots on your best day, boy. I'd like to offer you a job on the ranch, but I'd be afraid you'd fuck all my cattle to death.


But, you know, each to their own. Best of luck with those rimjobs you've got scheduled later. Hopefully you can make enough scratch to buy a better fucking box to live in you ugly ass, little dicked, hobo.


Cadryn puts one foot on the chest of Obsidian displaying his dominance and pinning him simultaneously.


1..


2..