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Cadryn Tiberius · **02-07-2017, 01:11 AM**

Not like this..

.::[Cadryn]::.

I seriously need to invest in a life alert bracelet or something. But, instead of falling down, it could be for when Gravy flip flops between himself and Satan Gravy. All I can do right now is keep my eyes on the road, and hope that he doesn't decide to do something mischievous. I actually don't even know how long I've been driving. I know that at one point we were headed to Pittsburgh for Gravy to reconcile things with his wife, but then out of the blue I have been forced to drive to Texas. Oh, but on a lighter note, I am the current XWF Heavy Metalweight Champion! I beat Gabe Reno inside of Walmart, all while he was shopping for some cereal. Ironic, eh? But, of course, it could be raining pussy and I'd get hit in the face with a dick. Reno took my TV Title and pieced it back together, and now claims to be the new Undeniable TV Champ! That really chaps my ass. I worked hard to beat Jim Caedus for that belt, but right now that's neither here nor there. I'll deal with Reno soon enough. So anyways, I decided to go to BK after winning the title to celebrate with a Whopper! Wouldn't you know it, as soon as I sat down in the play place, fuckin Graves pops up out of the ball pit and tried to pin me and take my title. I was going to chalk it up to Satan Gravy being a pretentious little asshole. But, regardless, I kicked out and retained my title. Wouldn't you know it? Gravy tried to do the same damn thing again! It's getting to be exhausting having to kick out of so many pin attempts. Maybe having this title isn't all that it's cracked up to be. I feel like the Hart title is more fitting for a man of my stature. I look better in pink, which brings me to my next point:

Robbie..

.::[Cadryn]::.

Let's have a chat, just the two of us, shall we?

It's funny, actually. You generally seem like the type of guy I'd get along with. The type of guy I'd go drinking with, or potentially play a quick game of D&D with. Well, okay, maybe not D&D. That's not exactly my cup of tea. But, alas, we're on opposite sides, and I'm sorry to say, but..

It's apparent, Robbie. In every conceivable definition of the word, you're scared. It didn't take you long to respond to the last promo that I cut. Every word, every paragraph dripping with disdain, dripping with fear. I think a part of you, deep down inside, believes you've got me all figured out. That I'm just some no talent, undeveloped, worthless human being that doesn't deserve to stand in your illustrious presence.

You couldn't be more wrong..

Robbie, your 15 minutes of fame is gone. You're a one trick pony, pal. You walk around acting like you and the goon platoon are the best thing to happen to the XWF. Well, I've got some news for you. You're shit. Your brand of humor, it just isn't funny anymore. And let's face it, that's all you had going for you in the first place. It sure as hell wasn't your looks, or your intelligence for that matter. And before you respond back with some useless diatribe, understand that I just don't care. You're not funny, you're not talented, and you honestly have nothing left to offer myself, the XWF, or the fans. You constantly talk about your fans, and how you do this for the fans, but in reality, there's no one left. It's the same thing, week after week. You spout some two bit, kindergarten level rhymes, and then you go out and defend your title against someone you know you can run over, because you're afraid of what would happen if you faced a challenger with actual talent, and actual determination. Take Graves for example: If it hadn't been for the fact that Jefferson Jackson practically handed you the victory, you'd have lost that match and consequently lost your title.

As I said, my friend: You're old news.

I mean, you practically stole my entire routine, and then butchered it to high hell. You thought to yourself “Oh, this will be funny, I'll have my title belt talk to me, that'll show him.” As I've made abundantly clear in the past, Fravey doesn't actually talk to me. He's a dick puppet. I slap that severed head on my massive cock, and I talk to it. It's funny, it's unique, and it's my thing. It's a shame that you've finally run out of dick and fart jokes, because as unfunny as they were, they were your thing. You're actually even more boring now than you were.

Oh, and on top of that, you go even further and blame the hallucinations on the Vicodin.

Yet another piece of my material you felt necessary to steal.

By the way, who the fuck takes Vicodin for a broken nose? I'd be more inclined to believe you were using it to stave off the pain of that throbbing, loose, over impacted, pussy you have in the area where a cock should be.

As you can see, I didn't feel it necessary to bombard you with fat jokes. I'll let the diabetes and high cholesterol do the talking for me. Also, I won't stoop as low as making derogatory comments about your partner. She has no stake in this, therefore is no concern to me. And, I'm a gentleman. Gentleman do not speak ill of women, that's just common knowledge.

So, as you can see, you're outclassed, out skilled, and out of time. Come Lethal Lottery, I will ensure that you and that honor less hobo of a partner Jim Caedus don't make it past the first round. Speaking of...

Jim..

.::[Cadryn]::.

Yet another champion, whose 15 minutes of fame came and went.

I've beaten you once, bud. How many more time do I have to beat you before you finally accept the fact that I'm better than you? You deserve that Television title as much as society believes you deserve a house, or a job, or anything that would classify you as anything other than a homeless piece of shit.

You're did a meet and greet at a daycare, dude. Did they offer you some animal crackers and a warm bed for the night? Because, otherwise, I can't see why you'd even think that would be an acceptable use of XWF time. Nobody gives a shit about you. You said the guy was Hindu, and 2 seconds later turn around and call him a “Jew bitch”. You're right, they must be trying to cater to

, IE: you.

You run around calling people geeks, and you're the guy named after Star Wars. See what I did there? I actually had no idea that's what your last name was in relation to, but you said that you would call yourself out before I could, but I took the shot anyways. Douche.

You say your a “Bourbon Man and that's reality on the rocks.”

Okay, I get it, you want to be a realist. Let's talk realistically.

You're shit too!

And what the hell is a Bourbon Man, anyways? Do you and Robbie sit in his mom's basement and play Yugi-Oh in between your rounds of “Soggy Biscuit”? I mean, truthfully Jim, how many times have you lost on purpose just to get a taste of ole Robbie? Or was it because you hadn't had a hot meal in a few days? Either way, ya'll claim that I'm riding Graves dick, have you looked in the mirror? I'm actually not sure who is riding who's coattails, because you're both trash.

But, you're not completely useless. That rap you did was fairly entertaining. It was funny, it rhymed, and was fairly complex for a guy who probably didn't get past the 10th grade. Well, you probably took enough shots in the mouth from Coach Vic to actually pass grade 10. Maybe it was your junior year that tripped you up?

Oh! Speaking of

: You idiots resort to calling me gay. Is that supposed to shake me? You and the rest of the company must have attended the same meeting, cause that seems to be the general consensus. But, sad for you, Jim, I'm not gay.

Boys, I'm gonna let you in on a little secret: Graves doesn't fight my battles for me. In fact, it's been my ass getting busted for the past two weeks, trying to help him retain some shred of dignity. He's been on a bit of a losing streak lately, but his luck is about to change as well. Although, unlike you two, his luck will be changing for the better.

So you can sit here and tell yourselves, hell, tell the world that I am no threat to either of you. But, denial is such an ugly dish to partake.

It's a shame, gentlemen. I actually expected a challenge.

I'll make sure and swing by Savage from time to time to say hi, after I win the Lethal Lottery of course...

Oh, and by the way:

Raindrop.

Drop top.

Cadryn busted that ass like it's his job.

You're not the only ones who can rap, bruh.

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