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X-treme Wrestling Federation »   » Archives » Leap of Faith 2017 RP Board
Leap o' Hate
Author Message
JimCaedus Offline
Trash Talker Skywalker



XWF FanBase:
Mixed

(loved by some; hated by some; dips between clean/dirty)


#1
10-04-2017, 10:34 PM

======€@£|)Ų$======














::BLACK::


"It seems no matter what I do for the positive, in spite o' the heights, regardless o' goals...I end up failin' in the end. 4 children; 2 aborted, one kept from it's father, one taken in a tragic accident. My careers: assassinated one by one. My opportunities: ultimately squandered. My first ever top title reign: brief and unimpressive. My status as a former XWF Universal Champion: the stepping stone has-been added to two Former-Uni-Champ Killers lists, a man who may never again experience the pinnacle. My "oh shit, it's Caedus" credibility: nigh, if not already, laughable. My ranking on the TOP 50, my legacy: more than likely doomed to erasure. My faith in myself: waning. It seems I can't help but let you down. For that, I'm sorry. You may never have the true champion, the true hero...the true _winner_ you deserve and always believed me to be. I'm sorry for that too. I'm sorry for my life.

Life is great for few, unfair for most. Then there's the few at the opposite end of the spectrum. They're pretty much fucked. I've been there. Many times. You know it. I know it. Sometimes I wonder if it'll remain that way, despite whatever temporary setbacks of happiness and glory spring up to keep my heart alive, the drip to keep me conscious for further torture. Sometimes I wonder if one's negative position is set. Then I wonder why some are more fortunate than others...

There ain't no comparing one's misfortune to another, there just ain't. It ain't a contest. We all take misery and agony in our own ways. But there are degrees, variables, that differentiate experiences. Some endure great tragedies; moments, perhaps years, of harsh reality. If their lives ain't taken, they suffer, they heal and they move on to fruitful futures. Some suffer, can't heal and continue suffering as they absorb wave after wave o' life's negative attention. I'm personally tired of feeling like the latter. Feeling like I'll die a nothing. A no one. You always believed and told me it would be the opposite if I applied myself, if I did my best. Will it though? What if my best ain't good enough? I mean it _was_ but it doesn't seem to be anymore and I'm still in my prime. A level I know will last for years to come. And yet...

It's bullshit what I was taught when I was younger. All of it. There are things in this- this reality that transcend and compromise anything a person does. So many fools, psychos and abhorant people with success, wealth and power...so many good, smart and kind people without. So much evil in the world. And if history has taught us anything it's that good in the "traditional" sense doesn't triumph over evil, that's just . You hafta get dirty right back. You hafta walk that fine line between light 'n' dark. You have to horrify horror, sicken the sick...merk the murderous. That's the world we live in.

I hate that this is a one-way conversation, by the way, and you'll never tell me, with the knowledge I know you have, what I need to know and do. You can't. Miracles don't happen for me. Or maybe it's that I'm not worth the energy it would take. Maybe I'll always be on the outside. Maybe...I'll never have a family again.

You don't need to worry though, I won't give up. Ever. I guess I'm stupid, naïve. Or maybe I'm just a coward. Afraid o' bein' called a quitter. Afraid of accepting the theoretical possibility of bein' a loser forever. Afraid to not stand back up just so I can say "Fuck. You." again. Too afraid...to ever stoop to any o' the "easy" ways out. I guess in that you can always be proud o' me. They'll literally hafta kill me, and make it stick this time, to put me down. I make you that promise.

I can make you another: This new opportunity I've been given through the grace o' the brass, the titular Leap o' Faith 6 man rafter match for a 24/7 Briefcase at the pay per view...I'll do everything in my power to attain it or die tryin'. In a landscape where many seem to receive instant karma for cocky, I'm not one o' the people who can promise victory. I'm not embraced for arrogance. I'm not like The Kings or some o' the Legends of the XWF who're allowed to and rewarded _for_ tellin' everyone else how much they suck, how...they'll never be good enough to defeat 'em. But goddammit...I _am_ a man with skill. A man with drive. I _am_ a man who has the will to try his best and succeed. I AM...Jim Caedus...and that's enough.

Well......I've gotta go you guys. Gotta get to preparin' and trainin'. I love you.

Oh and one more thing: all that fear, self-loathing and doubt o' mine?"


::FADE UP on Jim clutching flowers, Tala standing silently, solemnly, beside him::

"Fuck it."

I set the bouquet I'm holding between my parents' gravemarker plates. Tala kisses me lightly on the cheek before we turn and trudge away, hand in hand.

--Forest Lawn Memorial Park•Glendale CA•Morning--

::CLOSE-IN on Jim's face as they walk::

~~~~
::MULTIPLE VOICES::

At Least 5 Opponents/Rostermates Thus Far: "Everyone in your life killed themselves to get away from you Jim. Your wife and kid-"

::MEMORY OF THE TRAILER UP IN FLAMES::

"-your father-"

::RECOLLECTION OF MY FATHER CALLING OUT TO ME FROM HIS ROOM. MY WALKING IN 15 MINUTES LATER TO FIND HIM PASSED AWAY IN HIS WHEELCHAIR::

"-and your mother."

::REMEMBERING MY MOTHER'S FINAL WORDS TO ME WHILE STILL CAPABLE OF SPEECH::

Mom: "Will you be ok when I'm gone? Are you going to get married and have a family? Will you be happy?"

"I don't know. I hope so."

Mom: "Try? Please try. ......I love you sunshine."
~~~~

I wish I'd lied, like a parent promising a child they'll never die. I wish I'd lied, to ease her mind. I can feel the tears well and run; salty, warm, streaming rivulets in remembrance as if I'm physically there reliving the moment. Tala squeezes my hand. I squeeze back.

~~~~
"I'll try ok? I love you too."

At Least 5 Opponents/Rostermates Thus Far: "They... killed themselves ...Jim."
~~~~

I can sense my eyes losing their light as the memories fade. I can feel myself zombie-up.

Alright fuck-Os...you want it like that? I'm game. War's fuckin' on.

::BLACK::

÷÷÷÷÷÷



"Leap of Hate"







---Blue Water Café•Vancouver BC---


"I still can't believe Jaslene and I lost that match."

Tala rolls her big doe eyes and takes a sip of her nearly empty glass of "Channel 75" apéritif (a mixture of Bombay Sapphire gin, blackberry liqueur, riesling and rhubarb syrup, lemon and segura cava) as an employee busses our empty Seafood Tasting for Two plates from our table out on the heated patio.

"You didn't lose shit, baby. The Disintigrators lost, in their weak ass "return" via a severe lack o' skills both in and outta the ring. I mean yeah, technically that's a L on the tag tally but look at it like this: there were four _men_ in that contest that couldn't handle you and Jas'. If Dem Troll Niggaz hadn't luckily taken down the other two easy target pricks, it would've been Double-Trouble, the chicks with the spine to focus on the greater o' two threats, struttin' victoriously from that arena. Point blank: my girl and her sister are harder than every male OR female opponent they go up against, especially those four limp dicks on Savage. Fuck the few defeats."

"Aww, thank you babe. Dem Dum' Azz Niggaz weren't talking shit on those two losers after the show though, they were talking shit on me and my sister like they _did_ beat us."

She takes another sip, finishing her drink. The empty glass is plucked up moments later.

"Yeah I heard. Didn't make much sense though did it? Two cocky, copycat, arrogant as fuck, -ass, wannabe-gangsta, purely pathetic parody, mincin' motherfuckers lecturing The Sugays on havin' "big heads" when _they've_ shown nothin' _but_ since their debut promo...AND before they'd even had their _first match_. About as dickheaded double-standard douchebaggery as it can get right there. Reminds me o' The Kings...o' course, _they've_ "earned" their right to brag while ostracizing others, even those justified in their far-less than Kingslike egomania, for doin' the same. Wonderful teachers and examples, those crooked cocksuckers. Anyway, I'm tryin' to say ignore Dem Baby Dick Niggaz. They ain't shit and they ain't gonna prevent you from achievin' the glory I know you're quite capable of." She smiles at me. Gorgeous. A. F.

A waitress delivers my girl a glass of sauvignon blanc and me a tall glass of vitamin D whole milk, as two more approach and set our entrées before us.

Tala'd ordered the scallops served with caramelized belgian endives and wild rice griddle cake, candied ginger and citrus butter. I'd chosen the free range chicken, skinless, stuffed with sauvagine cheese and served with blackberries, millet fritters and broccolini.

"Yaaaas, this looks _bomb_!"

She uses her fork to spear a scallop, dips it into the butter and pops it in her mouth. I watch her enjoy it before digging into my fowl.

"Speaking on achieving glory babe..."

She raises her glass, inhales the aroma, swishes the liquid and takes a sip.

"Leap of Faith. There's your chance to regain it."

I swallow a chunk of chicken and wash it down with a swig of milk.

"-"

A moment before I'm able to utter a single syllable-

::BVVVT::

"Who's that?"

I check the notification.

"Holy shit...Shane might be formin' a stable. How the hell did I miss that?"

"THE Shane ? Jane's brother?"

She raises the glass to her lips.

"Fuckin' A. BEAGLE he's callin' it."

Tala pauses before sipping.

"Thinking about joining?"

"Yeah."

"You should then. _We_ should. Jaslene too."

She sips. I shrug.

"Meh...I tried throwin' my lot in with Boss Lane when he formed what turned out to be that trio with Raven and Jon Brown. I don't think the brass trust me or wanna team with me. Shane'd prob'ly say no. Don't get me wrong, this stems from logic, not loathing, but...I don't know if anyone _really_ wants to team with me Tala. 'Cept you o' course."

I pull her free hand to me and kiss it lightly.

"The hell are _you_ talking? Who wouldn't want Jim Caedus on their team? James Raven does."

"Yeah that'd be dope as hell baby but I don't know when or if it'll happen. If it does...The Kings're in deep shit. Same can be said in context with BEAGLE vs The Kings though. And Luca and Equinox. Damn, we got some solid potential teams wigglin' outta the wormwood right now. Takes me back to Ax3..."

"Hey wasn't Robert Main in Ax3? He's in the Leap of Faith match too, you should hit him up."

I take a forkfull of chicken and chew it up.

"And what? Iron out some kinda two-on-one-on-one-on-one-on-one?"

Tala giggles.

"What?"

"Nah...my brother looks to be formin' an alliance with Reno. I don't see that workin' out too well for me. I'm thinkin' this 6 man rafter match is gonna be war for me, baby. Caedus vs The World. Solo. Like it was before I ever founded Ax3 with Tidbits."

Tala swallows a mouthful of scallop.

"You aren't nervous are you?"

I exhale derisively.

"Thug ain't got time to be nervous baby. I'm good."

She winks and kisses at me.

"That's my man right there."

"Muthafuckin' right."

"So what are you thinking about the competition in your match?"

I tear into another tineful of cheese stuffed poultry with my teeth.

"I'm thinkin' three o' the fucks've already beaten me once. I mean, Scully and I share a tag victory over eachother but Danny Imperial and my bro Main have both defeated me in singles. Then there's Reno, I've got a win over him but some would say a cash-in is less than a definitive tellin' o' talent. And o' course Chaos. Two wins over him but that don't mean his ass ain't goin' for that briefcase fullbore. Fuckin' work cut out for me in that match."

"You have a strategy planned though don't you?"

"Goddamn right I do: target the 24/7 Briefcase and toss anyone I have to to get it. My power in relation to my shorter height and lower center o' gravity gimme an edge up there baby. The other five fucksticks are tall, mostly wiry...and as slippery a wet noodle as Chaos is, even HE ain't gonna be as effective with his usual repertoire high above the ring on rafters. Hell's 'e gonna do? Tries to spear someone he'll superman dive headfirst to a fuckin', at BEST, head-in-a-circle with name, birth and death date before the next Savage kicks off. Fuck a dedication episode; the talent, fans, commentators and crew would never stop laughing. Worst case o' funeral chuckles ever. Just the image of ol' Cucksy shootin' to the floor like so much o' Jenny Myst's jerked-out-jizz, the shriek on the way down, the hilarious splatter-"

Tala spit-takes in amusement, L'ing her M'er-F'ing A Off. I find myself joining in, I can't help it. Soon it spreads to the tables around us...then into the dining room. I see an elderly lady fall back in her chair. A waiter drops an entire platter, guffawing. The remaining waitstaff are pounding the ground. I can hear the chefs dying in the kitchen. It all lasts for a good six minutes before many of us end with a tear-wiping chuckle-stutter and a good, deep catching of breath.

"See? It's infectious. Chaos dies, we pretend to care, we all laugh. A good time's had by all. ...Maybe we SHOULD do a dedication episode come to think of it..."

Tala finishes her wine. A waiter replaces the empty with a full glass as I take another drink of milk.

"What about Imperial?"

"Danny has a whole lotta shit comin' 'is way. Puttin' 'is hands on you on Warfare...he's lucky I haven't ripped his balls and uncut brown cock off, hung a nut from each ear with rusty fishhooks and sewn the 3rd World weiner onto his snout so as to bring 'im closer to his pachyderm deity in appearance. Then during the Leap o' Faith match I'd cue the sound guy to play Mancini's "Baby Elephant Walk" when I hang young Dan from the rafters by his hair for a few moments before I swing 'im into a suspension cable neck first, decapitatin' 'im and usin' his oily locks and dome like some greasy ball and chain to knock my competition aside as his headless corpse plummets to the fans below, destined to be thrown up on eBay just in time for one lucky buyer's award-winnin', über-realistic front yard Halloween set-up. Naturally I'll keep the cranium for myself, hollow it out, saw off the crown and utilize it as my candy caché when you and I go trick 'r treatin'."

Tala laughs, then-

"Aren't we both a little old for that shit?"

"Nonsense. I'll wear a shirt that reads Invincible and go as an obvious member o' The Kings, you'll dress up scantily as a sexy _anything_ and we'll rake in the sweets exploiting our celebrity. Who's gonna turn us down? We'll prob'ly be starrin' in hundreds o' snaps before the night's complete.

Anyway, you were, again, right to tell me to let it go for now. Collecting vengeance from Imperial ain't my goal at the pay per view, the 24/7 Briefcase is. Whippin' his ass into a goopy poop brown paste will hafta wait, as irritatin' an imbecile islander he is...especially with that goddamn gif he uses for a signature on the official site. I wanna break the loop, swing a sledge in each hand from both sides of the book, smash that skull between the pages, facepaint and brains squirtin' every which way, give it a week or two for the rot to really set in then sell it off as the Kama Putra. We get it Daniel, you're literate and you've read at least _that_ one novel. Kudos. Christ, he's tryin' too hard to appear intellectual... What's the deal ya geek Ghandi? You overcompensating for the genetic makeup and stigma that accompanies bein' half bush-wackin' rainforest aborigine, half cumdog millionaire? Your Fijian people probably still use seashells, berry juice-dyed rocks and colorful beetle carapaces as currency and the Hindi in you cries for a country with streets not wafting that Indian food diarrhea scent...yet you surround yourself, WHILE IN WARPAINT, with the type o' furnishings we'd expect from some hoidy-toidy twat limey. I guess countin' hermit crabs, huntin' 'n' gatherin' and watchin' monkeys fuck in trees got old, huh? The educated tribesman...lame. I'm tellin' you right now Danny, it's no longer fresh or funny. We'd all rather see you play into the background like the Headshrinkers. We wanna see you slither down the entrance ramp in a grass skirt, hop up and raindance to the tune o' the Tiki Room. Even better, embrace the Hindi side, float out in a diaper, blow fire and Dhalsim the fuck out of it. Gives me reason to pack gasoline, douse you, have you ignite off your own Yoga Flame and clap in awe as you spiral-fireball to the floor. Sweet! You gotta do it Dan! Don't disappoint all your fan. Yeah, singular, smartass.

Fuck it though, no matter how 'e presents 'imself, if he gets between me and that briefcase I'll push the pissant off the rafters and have 'im Jeff Hardy Hindi swami-dive to 'is death."


"What the fuck is a limey, babe?"

Sip.

"That's a Brit, baby, like Scully's unfortunate Brummy ass."

"Brummy?"

"That means he's from Birmingham. Scully gets all uppity if you don't specify, as if it ain't all a part o' the same gay itty-bitty island and people give a shit about in which cobblestoned alleyway he wetly earns 'is nickname accordin' to Afro-American hip hop slang."

Tala laughs again.

"Ha! "Skully"! I thought the same thing! How doesn't he know about that?"

"He's a fucking idiot, baby, or a confused and complete X-Phile femme thinkin' Scully was a better idea than Fox. Fox. Imagine that. You can respect a guy named Fox. But noooooo he had to get fruity with it, which is why he texts pics of his lengthy plump dumps to dudes NOT with the masculine message "bro, check it out" but with the caption "Bumhole width clearance as advertised. Cum and fill it.""

"EW!"

"I know, I know...Scully's filthy, disgusting and most likely nursin' a fine selection o' VD. Hey _I'm_ the one who has to come into physical contact with 'im again, how you think _I_ feel?"

"Didn't you say he has a win over you?"

"Well he'd prob'ly say he may as well have two over me since Dolly- no, Ally- I mean, _"Buronan"_ cost him the win and pin over me in round 3 of Lethal Lottery 4. He's classy like that, not at all one o' the scandalous people like me who say "if I'd been good enough, I'd have avoided the interference anyway", like I very well could in context with he and Gimpy, as Team Aptly Named 2.0, defeating TRAX and I after Bruce Blingsteen distracted me for a Chris Chaos-like screwing with a schoolboy roll up."

I look to the lens.

"Ain't that right Chris?"

I narrow my eyes (what I like to call, in Futurama redhead-protagonist angry epiphany or suspicion-style: "Fry Eyes"), then return my gaze to my girl.

"I have no idea what you're hinting at babe."

"S'ok, even if he won't admit it, _Cuck_ does. Douche. As do others...but like my bro Gilly says, I digress. Back to Scully...

Yes, he with an assist from The Bourbs (and such an impactful Robbiebomb Robbie fell outta the ring) almost pinned me for the 3-count at LL4...yes, his partner, with an assist from Blingsteen, did pin me on Savage in round one of the tag title tourney...yes, Scully has syphilis contracted via unprotected same-sex sodomy and _yes_ I wish he'd get hit by a semi while touchin' his toes in the middle of a fuckin' freeway but am I gonna hesitate to nudge 'im off the rafters with a "woops" and send 'im Scullinatoring to ringside balloonhead first? No, I'll definitely drop the highflyer to 'is demise if it helps me secure that 24/7 Briefcase and sit through the closed casket wake with a smile on my face. Or maybe I'll feel inclined to be a bit nicer, wrap a wire 'round 'is throat and just leave 'im hangin' like Gippy did the second Team 2.0 lost to The Kings. Shit, maybe after I snatch the briefcase I'll jump onto Scully's hangin' body, poppin' his head free with my weight and ride the rest of 'im down usin' his corpse to break my fall."


"You've got a lot of threats centering around people falling to their death babe."

"It's a 6 man rafter match, whaddya want?"

"True," she says before placing another buttery scallop between her lucious lips and chewing. "Continue. Gabe Reno."

"Reno...Reno's a tough cookie. I know it doesn't seem like it with his triumphant return plagued by loss but he's every bit as much a legitimate threat as the rest of us. Yeah I cashed-in on 'im but that cash-in was carried out pretty much without struggle. I mean, I intentionally tricked 'im, a defensive response to _his_ mindgames I might add, and the "match" was literally my Wrexus Plexus into a Katabasis for the three. Not much chance for me to get to know his bag o' tricks if you catch my drift. Oh I've scouted 'im...shit, I was scoutin' 'im for months before the cash-in...but personally competing with a back and forth reveals nuances in an enemy's strategy specific to you yourself as his or her opponent. I don't have that insight into him as of yet. Luckily, neither does he of me, so, we're both basically even there. Still, I don't give a shit what he has in store, I'll be on guard regardless. Most certainly given the, though he may deny it, bad blood between us."

"I remember you mentioning that to me before."

"You don't wanna be on someone like Reno, or Radical, Eradicat¤r, whatever the hell he'll be callin' 'imself at the time's list. Why? Simple...I've said it of another and it bares repeating in this case...Reno's extremely feminine and, again I've said it before, as the saying goes, "hell hath no fury like a woman scorned". How, beyond the buttpiratey hundred dollar salon, newly single slutty soccer mom haircut, can I label him a lady? Take how many times he's changed his name and look and/or his avatar and signature on the official site since I've been on the roster for example. Always switchin' up appearances...like a female. No offense baby, _you_ can do whatever you want, look good and I'll love it. Real ladies are allowed such acts."

"None taken babe and thank you."

She flashes a cute smile. My heart leaps.

"Reno though...never consistently satisfied with how he presents himself, sarcastic, waspy as fuck, shady, shifty eyed, usually talkin' shit behind backs, deceitful, jealous, bitter, controlling, overcompensatory at times with the wicked tongue betwixt passive-aggressive behavior, poetic in soul, pretentious with all the unnecessary glitz, glamour and glitter in 'is vignettes, the vagina...it all adds up to "this is a bitch, she's crazy and she'll shoot me in the shower". Ask Jodi Arias for fucksake. Yeah...I'll be keepin' a close eye on Gabe leadin' up to and during the Leap o' Faith 6 Man Rafter Match. Chicks like him are evil; what with the cheating, the hair in your food and the cowardly, sneaky poisonings. Again, baby, no offense, the negative don't apply to you. You're what every woman _should_ be: smart, sexy, tough as nails and true. To be honest, I've never had a girlfriend as intelligent, unique, beautiful, strong, supportive yet independent and loyal as you. You mean the motherfuckin' world to me, Tala. And I'm drinkin' milk here, not alcohol."

Tala blushes, a huge, glorious smile crossing her lips. She stares into my eyes.

Jesus Christ you're stunning, girl.

She opens her mouth to respond-

"Nah baby, you ain't gotta say _shit_ to me. You let _me_ dole out the sincere compliments right now, you've legit had my back every time some prick insults me. Means a helluva lot.

I believe I left off leadin' into The Omega, my brother before AND after Ax3, Robert Main."


"If you two are so close, what do you think _he'll_ have to say about all this?"

I ponder on that as I finish my entreé.

"For starters I'm sure he'll mention how we've still never formed that tag team we've been talkin' about since fuckin' April."

"Babe, earlier you said no one really wants to team with you."

"It's complicated. While in Ax3 we never got booked together for any tag or trio match. Then he dipped out for his own reasons following a loss to Cadryn while Ax3 was gettin' dismantled by those playa-hatin' hacksters The Kings. We spoke privately on many occasions durin' 'is absence but since his return, again, we haven't gotten 'round to the teaming. Admittedly, the last time he asked me about it I declined for reasons o' bitchass self-doubt-"

I look to the lens-

"-I'm sorry brother-"

-then back to Tala.

"-but also, as I mentioned before, he seemed to be formin' an alliance with the Tardical Gail Reno. One more also, from a practical standpoint, what good would come from teaming up in this type o' match? While it _would_ allow an easier time o' takin' out your enemies, ultimately the prize itself can only be claimed by one. You also hafta trust your partner not to push YOU from the rafters BEFORE your foes have been dealt with if an opportunity presents itself. There's also the overall objective of the match to consider...we start focusing on shovin' shitheads from the rafters, one o' the others could take the free time to leap to the briefcase. So many variables...but ultimately I'd say it would benefit each man to seek a solo strategy. I will be."

"What if they both team up to eliminate YOU from the match?"

"I'll hafta adapt to whatever happens, baby. I can't answer that any other way other than to say I have no intention o' lettin' ANYTHING stop me from nabbin' the case and earnin' the Mr. 24/7 handle for the second time, even if I have to crush Reno and Robert's heads together like rottin' fuckin' fruit."

"What else would Robert say?"

She sips.

I swig.

"If he's still my brother he'll prob'ly levy some respect my way like I will in givin' 'im 'is due credit for defeatin' me early on in our careers here. Like how I respect, appreciate and highly value his friendship and loyalty except that one time he let Chris Chaos brainwash 'im against me and how I DO wish, when applicable and appropriate, to team with him. ...Then he'll likely hit me with some hellacious blood-filled bathtub, Hades demonic imagery with Satan's big red cock flappin' in the gusts o' thousand degree heat blasts and monsters up the wazoo with 'is recent Jack-off Skellington scary shenanigans. Then he'll get serious and say somethin' like-

Jim! I don't care who you are! I will win! I beat you before! I will beat you again! What are fragment sentences? Fuck commas!

Then he may get nasty, baby."


"Nasty?"

"Nasty...like targeting you with some horrendous threat of rape, ill-spoken insults and even some hefty shit to sling _my_ way."

"What the fuck!? Rape!? ME!? Motherfucker tries to rape me I'll cut his dick off, Jimmy!"

"See that's where he'll misfire if he does that. My girl beats male ass in the ring weekly, she ain't no NPC or stay-at-home wife ready to ease the exposition along. I KNOW you can take care o' yourself, you been doin' it your whole life, little thuglette. HOWEVER...it goes without saying..."

Once more I look to the lens. My eyes convey a deadly serious terminal threat.

"...you put Tala in your crosshairs with some fucked up promise o' violence, you and I are gonna have a problem, brother. You know me Main...I'll put it all aside during the match to maintain clarity o' focus on that briefcase, let that shit stew for awhile and lash out in the future physically when you least expect it. Havin' to face you knowin' I WILL do whatever it takes to win is enough...I don't want you of all people pullin' some psycho shit outta me.

As far as the rest o' you go, lemme guess...those who've defeated me will shout it. You'll all call me stupid, nonsensical, crazy and delusional. I'm a junkie, a crackhead, a meth addict and an all-around loser, right? I'm also somehow arrogant while at the same time a fuck-up, flash-in-the-pan, fluke and failure. Everyone I ever loved actually hated me and killed themselves to ditch me except the cunts who left me for "greener pastures". Speakin' o' pastures my dead wife was a fat cow, yeah? Oh, I'm also inexplicably still a hobo and trailer trash with a cummy beard. I've done impressive shit but it won't stop you from stopping me. You hate my content and my rhymes and without a thesaurus I'd be grunting monosyllabic into the lens. I'm a gay lumberjack and I've been known to "ride dick", _not_ attempt to form friendships in the past. I rant, I rave, I'm always on the verge o' tears and everything I do in promo is tired and old hat. I leave anything out? I'm sure you'll remind me. 8 Mile me motherfuckers, tell me somethin' they ain't already heard or at least make it _sound_ good. Reno, throw up some slick trim, a poem and break down some gussied-up, artistry-rich, mightily themed term paper on Jim Caedus. Danny, hit me with some dumbass collegiate cocksuckery and make mammalian predator metaphors and analogies. Maybe drop a lame poem yourself. Scully, blow me. But also, do a shot of nitroglycerin and twerk. Third, pollute the XWF air and netwaves with your garbled, nigh impossible to comprehend limey talk or do us a favor and go back to , you were so much more coherent. Chaos, wiki the fuck outta me, stand your ground at great length and diddle that swollen clit o' yours. Robert...bring it brother.

I've spent enough of this dinner with Tala talkin' to you all, it's _your_ turn now. Leap o' Faith, fuckers. Bring your A-game."


I extend my hand to the lens, palming it to-

::STATIC::

[Image: chM1Ri0.gif]

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