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Wyatt Reynolds · (02-11-2014)

If any of you learned anythin' at all about Wyatt Reynolds this past Madness, it is that I am willin' to push the envelope. I'm willin' to do things others only wish they had the testicular fortitude to actually accomplish. John Austin stared death in the eyes with the barrel of a pistol shoved into his gullet. I saw the fear in his eyes. I smelled the fear on his breath.

I'm positive John Austin saw his miserable little life flash before his very eyes. My only regret about that whole thing is the fact that the bullet in the chamber was a blank. Had it not been a blank, you very much would have tuned into Nero's Games next week and saw a very movin' and heart felt tribute to the life and death of John Austin.

Ask John Austin what it feels like to know that if I had my way, he very much would be dead right now. Ask John Austin what it feels like to have me standin' over your body knowin' that I'm about to take your life and could not give a fuck less what anyone thinks.

John Austin thought he was my first test. If he's a test, then I passed with flyin' colors. No, Austin, you were not a test. You were nothin' more than my next victim. I tried to tell you that. You refused to listen.

I am Madness personified and that is why I have come to the Madness roster.

What you saw on Monday night, was just the tip of the iceberg. More of my own personal brand of Madness is yet to come.

This week, a real test. My first real title opportunity. It was not somethin' I was given. It was not somethin' I earned. It is, however, somethin' I went out and took. Amos James is a man that lacks any intelligence whatsoever. He definitely makes up for that in size and strength. In just a few short days, Mr. James is gonna find out, that size and strength isn't everythin'. It ain't the size of the dog in the fight, it's the size of the fight in the dog. Amos James is about to find out just how much fight is inside this lil' dog.

I've made it a habit to give you these diatribes, or monologues, every so often. Not so much to stand here and spew nonsense about my opponents. More so, to give y'all a peek behind the curtain. To lift the veil, so to speak, just a little. Just to give you the opportunity to hear the words I speak. To give you the opportunity to see the man behind the Madness.

Y'all like to accost me for my beliefs. For the way I speak. For the way I think. Because I'm different. Because I speak with a southern drawl. Because I love my God. Because I detest the niggas and the Jews and other so-called minorities. Y'all like to judge me for my judgment of them.

That makes you the hypocrite. Not me.

It has come to my attention that whoever, or whatever is in the head of Amos James is tellin' him to lay down and let me claim the title. I'd suggest to Amos James that, that is exactly what he should do. There is no shame in allowin' the better man to have the victory when all signs are pointin' that way in the first place.

When Amos James himself, can admit that I am the better man, then and only then, will I consider the point that he may indeed, be more intelligent than he lets on.

Here is my plea to you, Mr. James. Before you listen to your demons or whatever the hell it is that controls your mind. Before you walk to the ring on Madness. Before you hand my title over to the official. Before the bell rings. Before you make a fool of yourself and lay your big ass down in the center of the ring.

Check the rules of this match.

There are no pinfalls.

It is a Pyramid of Hell Ladder match you borderline

mother fucker.

I tried to be nice.

I guess I should have tried harder.

Amos James is quite obviously a weak minded fool, ripe for the pickin'. No man that is controlled or lead around by the nose by any other man or entity can be, nor should they ever be considered, a strong man. That is not to take away from Mr. James obvious physical strength.

As I've said a thousand times before, and will probably be forced to say a thousand more times in the future, I'm a cerebral man of great mental prowess. I'm a man of misdirection. As soon as you think you have it all figured out. As soon as you think you know what I'm goin' to do next. I change directions and force you to start all over again.

While you lay your ass on the mat graspin' at straws and tryin' to figure me out, I'm movin' in for the kill. For the win.

The Burnin' Cross is in your front yard, Amos James. And you're gonna feel the burn.

Now, for the moment, I turn my attention to a man very much unlike me. Linguini Maximus Isaac. Y'all know him better, as the Linguist. If he and I ever had any similarities, it is that both of us are well educated. I'm not ashamed to admit, Mr. Isaac is probably better educated than I.

Wyatt Reynolds bein' educated, by the way, is much to the chagrin of the masses. Seein' a man such as my self that burns with the hatred that I do and bein' from the south, while not bein' a complete hillbilly imbecile like Amos James, has got to burn all of y'all up. I've been buckin' the cliché since I began. That's one thing y'all hate about me more than anythin' else.

Just do me a favor and keep on hatin'. It fuels me.

The Linguist, much like myself, started his career here in the Xtreme Wrestlin' Federation on fire and on a roll. Intelligence and our respective careers aside, that is where our similarities end. I'm still on a roll here and at Nero's Games, one roll will end.

Amos James and the Linguist will be left lyin' in a pool of their own blood starin' up at me as I climb the ladder and retrieve that precious piece of shit known as the European title.

My roll will continue. And I'll continue to march to the beat of my own drum with the lovely Ms. Dyson at my side.

When Nero's Games comes to a close, maybe, just maybe I'll rechristen that worthless title as the Confederate Championship. When it comers home with Wyatt Reynolds, then and only then, will it mean anythin'.

When that show comes to a close, Amos James along with the Linguist, as well as all of the Madness roster will have no choice but to proclaim these simple little words...

In Wyatt We Trust.

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