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X-treme Wrestling Federation » Warfare Boards » Warfare RP Board
Yours Truly,
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R A D I C A L
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#1
10-14-2017, 03:05 PM

Hooded, covered by a shadowy back drop, Gabe Reno emerges to talk at the camera on a cool night's blacktop.



My mind was made up the minute I met you. I saw past the art you claim to represent "so true", I saw the hollow reflections that make up all of you.

You bore us with... something, about... nothing, in every pow-wow. Forgetting to tell us that your very existence is why your mom swallows now. Is that a revelation and why you fake being proud? Should we all stand in applause to help you drown the memories back out? Pieces of trash don't change their kitty stripes to spots of a cow. So stop trying to convince people you're mooooving on now.

I can count the number of times you've mattered on one hand, full of empty dollars, barely even a man. Pucker up and kiss what's left goodbye, because this time the Radical is going to expose your fucking lies. Sick and tired- ha, that's one way to say it... another is dominant, over your entire porn fluffing regiment. I swing with lefts and rights, I hit you where it hurts... while you pretend to know how to fight, gargle a load, then burp. You suck the cum out of the shaft of life. You stir the pot while trying to look threatening with a rubber knife. Intimidation is not a tool at your disposal. No one is scared of a man pretending to be a bunny who needs a muzzle. The world works on facts, not unbridled fur... even if it helps your delusions to be... who you thought... you once were..?

The rest know different. BECAUSE THEY ARE BETTER. Now go sail into retirement with Seth Feder. You think I am the heretic, but I know you so good... just how to twist you... and you know that I should. I'll tuck you in Chris, all nice and tight, read you a kind story, then bash your face in with mite. You're the last of the blonde... airy... bimbo types, because after you they grew balls and became more than just... 'alright'.

Listen up, bitch. We ain't even close to being through. I need a douche, and you and Jenny were the only two. Don't act like you don't know who I'm talkin' to, you aren't throwing the first pitch, NO CUNT, I'm throwing it at you. Take one for the team, if you can find someone to sign... make fun of a Priest, but don't expect forgiveness in time. They may hear all your confessions, about chaotic behaviorial lessons, then you'll meet a holy Smith&Wesson. There is no hope for what you are. There is no valley that even enchanted peaks quite that far. Rising is for the strength of the masses. Do you even have faith in your verbal gas as it passes? I am your master, you cannot jest. I am the King of all the Chaos out west. Radical dawning- uh oh, we pissed him off! Is that him waiting with a loaded weapon for my work to get off? I won't exaggerate, I won't even try to fool ya- I'm coming for you with a mallet made of a pissed off pariah.

You wanted to dance with the devil, unholster from the hip... well take ten paces, turn and draw, dipshit. Let's see exactly what you can do as a loner- maybe you'll spin around three times, get confused and be bailed out by Lane's boner. Here we go again as the last men on the field... wait, why the squat... oh, catching with those kneepads so no one see's the marks from where you've been bought. Wounds gashed back open, you're gonna fucking bleed... no one can save you, no one follows my lead. GO AHEAD- WHAT THE FUCK CAN YOU SAY? THROW OUT A GAY JOKE, BECAUSE YOU HAVE NOTHING ELSE TO SAY?

Fuck you, Chris.

Fuck you, Jenny Myst.

Fuck you and the dark infested hole that unleashed a double dose of bitch.

This time you've bitten off the final mouthful, swallow it down, squeeze it then pull. You're not a virgin, stop that shit! Do you say that when you sign autographs as "Too Legit To Quit"? Hammer-time is over, I'm gonna write it in spray paint, all over the Warfare billboard, so that even the critics can laugh before you run to daddy with a complaint. Be a fucking tool. Be a wrench, or a nail. Sell your fucking soul to me if you're really for sale. There is no bargain in being cheap. What goes around comes back again, ten fold, at your feet.

You are owned by Reno- and I'll do it again... get my ownership papers in order, even if your "friends" say no and hold your hand. A mansion lays on the land called Chris Chaos. Vast with vengeance left for you to try to get across. Prime real estate for me to abuse your mouth with ring-toss. Surrounded by a mote where I throw my waded up jerk-off's. Napkins, you twit... try to keep up, around the mansion corner I have an ever bigger boat for you to screw up. Not like the ship you were thrown off of or the title reign I sunk, this boat is called Fuck You, and I'll be done before lunch. Wasting time has never been something I do, I prefer to cut right the fuck through, and this time the blade has found you. Feel free to gather a posse, gather to resist, but I warn you all... you will be dismissed. Concise are the words with which I speak, eloquently chosen, to conquer the weak. Wise like Dr.Suess but plain like him too, a hypothesis of dialect, in the realm Chaos can never choose. The biggest moments act like a cold winter night, shrinking a shriveled panty waste like chaos, afraid to fight.

You, in a cage for more put-put? So you can keep smelling like you wipe from back to front? Ensue we can, you chaotic slut. Even on my worst day, between us, you're still the mut. This is a simple case of open and shut. Like your life, when you decided a bunny was what would make you sound tough. Merciless is merry this time of year, filled with sweet nothings, and Chris' worst fears. I will wrap them up, and deliver them with a bow; in the darkest part of the evening, with a shotgun cocked and aimed at my least favorite foe.

So original and cool, hey, do you still do bar mitzvah's? Maybe after this time, Jenny Myst won't want to shame staple her cunt shut. She'll be listening to you on the way to another tough one... you bitching and moaning about losing while she rolls her eyes, getting her superficial nails done.

Sickafantic fucks like you never learn. How to adapt in colder temperatures while your senses get burned. Maybe eating some of her makeup will make you pretty inside, less is more, look it up on wiki-hide.

Kiss my ass if your two lips still work, after 5 guys used them to count what's left of your worth. Out of the sun and into the shade... lackluster Chaos doesn't get the XWF bills paid. When it's all said and done you can say you're taking things day by day. Like Trump, we'll all still know that it's all over your twitter, but nowhere to be saved.

See, that's a parallel but it's not exact. Donald may be President of something, but you're just a show hiding hack. Why not come right out and say it? You're like Caesar the Ape, only management on XWF's planet is out of experiments. Haters... see you and still hate, a harsh reality, like you... being impossible to underestimate. A surprise would be refreshing, but I have learned the cost- all I have to do to win is say that Chris Chaos is a boss! Sasha and Chris, what sterling examples to take after, leaving the wrestling world dying in awkward laughter. What else can they do but giggle like some sick prank, it's all they have left, watching a tiny untalented girl, and Sasha Banks.

Gains are gains, no pain for Chris, except when he wakes up with an ivy after this.

You know the story- it's a bit of an old rant- absent of all glory- filled by more dick in your personality than in your pants. It's so funny, Chaos was once a safe bet. Now your career is so oily we can't believe America hasn't invaded it yet.

Can you hear me ? Should I turn it up? Would that make it easier to tuck your tail between your rump? You've gotten so good at it that I can hardly repeat... that your dad still wishes he'd wiped you off the sheets.

Mind's been made, words have been battled, Gabe has to end Chaos with a big boy paddle. Shut the fuck up, don't even respond... you're the glimmer of talent no one wants to last long.

Cannibalistic growling fills my carnivorous belly. Starved for the flesh of another Chris Chaos piece of telling. It takes cajones to write substance, it's hard, that's the same reason you'll always be just below par.

Shut the fuck up. Don't make me take you down another peg. I'll pull the trigger before Wednesday, before you can squirm inbetween corporate legs. Finished with words, and your played out gimmick so chaotic and unruly, still second to the Radical so get the fuck out,

Yours Truly,


A turn and walk in the opposite direction, Gabe smirks, with a monstroscity of chaotic erection.


[-] The following 4 users Like R A D I C A L's post:
(10-17-2017), (10-14-2017), Drake (10-15-2017), JimCaedus (10-14-2017)
R A D I C A L
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#2
10-14-2017, 07:40 PM

Yours Truly,

[Audio]




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