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Ned Kaye · (03-20-2019)

Ned twists his head slightly, inhaling deeply before he speaks.

"I wonder what was harder for you to accomplish, John: your poor attempt at playing my game and "understanding" me or the amount of mental gymnastics you had to do to convince yourself I was spouting a fairytale. Well, Rogan, in this case truth is sadder than fiction, not stranger. But please, take another go at emulating my style and methods. 'Cuz if you do, you might find clairvoyance enough to see what a miserable experience your tenure in this company has been and quit before you tumble any farther."

"However, before I continue, I want to unpack the two most infantile thoughts you regurgitated in front of me. First, cut the Georgian garbage. Two Texan parents; moved to East New York right before I was born. If you're not inclined to take my word go down there with your grimy, smartass demeanor and place your hands around your lips and scream as loud as you can, "Ned Kaye isn't a real New Yorker!" And then, pull the tarnished metal stopwatch you perpetually host in the canals of your anus, flip it open, and watch how quickly they will run your withering skeleton out of town. That's my city, John, and don't you dare test me or it because we're both capable of snapping you in two."

"But secondly, you affirm that your research is as irrelevant as yourself. You honestly pieced together some fabrication about me pursuing this match? About me groveling to the XWF for a job? Perhaps that's how your entrance to this company transpired, but the XWF came to me. I kept putting in the work that I consistently do and that's when my phone rang. I didn't walk to Xavier's office, leave a memo on the desk, or email him about getting in this match. He offered me a spot. So before you start getting as high off your own foul odor as Kid Kool, I feel you should carry this truth with you: unlike yourself, I don't beg for opportunity, opportunity begs for me."

"That said, I do understand you mistaking me for Ned Flanders, not for the white bread personality or the corny sweater vest. No, no. With my talent, precision, and performance it must seem like God himself is on my side, but I assure you he's impartial. But even in the punchline of a universe where a higher being bestowed his unlimited power upon you, the only difference it would make is increasing the number of people you disappoint tonight by one. You are outmatched, you are underprepared, on the verge of running scared, and it's a miracle the growing scent of your own piss collecting beneath you hasn't caused you to faint. But don't fret, John, you've taken stride in defeat before, I'm sure you can do it again."

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