01-19-2014, 02:07 PM
...And set your vibrators to cell phone mode!
Let's start this off like Morbid Angel would. I swallowed a vibrator once. That really has no relevance to what I'm supposed to be talking about, but I feel it necessary to bring up because well, that was an experience.
I swear, Morbid Angel has a fucking fetish for getting humiliated by women or something. Honestly, I don't even feel comfortable ripping him to shreds further, because somewhere off in whatever hole in the ground he resides in, he's jacking off to the irateness in my voice. And yes, I do say irateness.
Irate that Paul Heyman would waste money to put you on his roster. Oh well, makes sense that he lost his job, seeing as though his "astute" businessmanship led to you getting a fucking job. Hey, what's up with that one, you little anti-Semite? You rant and rave and scream and yell about Jews and Kikes and all this great 20th century propaganda shit but then put your name next to the dotted line of a Paul Heyman contract. Bravo! You had us all fooled, you big cuddly teddy bear of wavering, unsure hatred. What's next? Are you going to film your next promo at the nearest Synagogue, wherein which you give the Rabbi a high five and a reach around? Yeah, sounds about right. I look forward to that one, in the same way that I look forward to watching those shock videos that flood the internet from time to time.
You're all welcome for that mental image, by the way.
However, I am not irate by anything you've said because you couldn't be "offensive" if your fucking life depended on it, Morbid. Which kinda sucks for you because you're trying so fucking hard to do so, what with all your "disturbing" imagery that sounds more like a twelve year old trying to look tough than it does a threat of violence from a respectable psychopath/whatever the fuck Morbid Angel is trying to come across as. So yeah, as for the whole getting under my skin bit, you might want to try a little (or a lot) harder, you haven't even come close to making a puncture wound on the epidermis. Fuck! I need to stop using big words when I deal with the wild Morbid Angel!
Callin' it right now: "Morbid Angel is Confused! Morbid Angel hurt itself in its Confusion..."
Morbid (who talks in third person because Morbid has some sort of fucking complex) does get pinned. Like a low down, dirty skank, actually. You see, Morbid Angel got pinned by none other than the resident NAZI wannabe (and never will be), Wyatt Reynolds! You know; the very same Wyatt Reynolds who got stunned fucking silent by a Hipster? Yeah, that guy.
But before he did that, he wasn't even cool enough to be a part of the finish in a match with The Phantom Stranger of the fucking Opera and some other motherfucker. Wow, what a way to debut Morbid.
Funny, how someone so outwardly full of shit can masquerade his failures behind some sham of an "Undefeated" streak and no one else is willing to call him on it. Not haha funny mind you; more of a funny in a sad, pathetic sort of way.
Moving on.
I'm glad you have the ability of understanding the words that come out of my mouth, and that slowly but surely, my prophecy is coming true. I have him stumbling over his own words, trying desperately to come back at me. One more swift motion, and his figurative jugular will be sliced into nice little bits and he'll be left unable to talk. Just barely able to choke out nonsensical syllables in hopes, desperate fucking wishes that whatever he says is coherent enough to be understood and in that same vein is somehow offensive enough to get me to let up.
To wait for a moment before I drive the rapier into his fucking worthless skull.
And lastly, you decide to fetch some of the poisonous water from the same well everyone else runs to. ESP is the only reason I'm a champion.
First thing's first. Keep her fucking name out of your whore mouth.
Secondly, please tell me; explain to me exactly fucking how that's true. Come on, I'm waiting.
Is it because she was the one who pulled down the belts and won the match?
Oh, right. I did that.
Wait a second, I'm arguing merits of who earned what and who got carried with the guy who endorses Peter Gilmour. The same Peter Gilmour who managed to remain latched to the teets of both Feders and was dragged right to his place of attention whoreish mediocrity by those two and Unknown Soldier.
Right, he's the fucking model you should strive for. Silly me!
Eye roll. Yeah, I'm beginning to say more and more actions aloud instead of actually doing them, because I want to make sure my mind is still functioning well enough to form coherent thoughts after listening to this fucking Troglodyte speak.
Lucky me, I get to translate another of his back alley abortion promos from Caveman to English. What fun!
I don't think that will be necessary, Kea. Morbid Angel has already dug himself into a hole.
Okay, fine. I'll let you have this one.
Parade around like a common street whore? You're even more idiotic than we initially took you for, huh? What, are you taking advice from Peter Gilmour like you said you would? Call a woman a whore and you're fine? 'Kay, Morbid Gilmour.
So please, cry more. Your tears are delicious.