Mr. WGWF:Peter, did I try and be your friend, or did I try and start a war with you? I was trying to find you a new lover. I know you're love affair with Christian Gunn isn't going to last forever, probably not much longer I'm assuming. How do you plan on keeping him? He's already realizing you're nothing but a fat useless sack of dog dicks. Seriously, Peter, Do you honestly look at the people you start fights with, and what they're doing for you before you run your mouth? Of course not. Just like you don't pay attention to the things you say before you say them.


Had you actually paid attention you'd notice that you've basically been hitting on Christian this entire time. You've shown your true colors as a Young Lover, and you're just scared to step out more than accidental drops. Well, Peter, your unquenchable thirst for young boy ball sweat has been revealed, and it's ok. You can finally admit what we all already know. You don't dong worship the devil, you dong worship little kids at Recess. Keep promising to bury me, Peter, keep promising to make me do all kinds of things when you beat me. Then write them down, and leave them under your pillow at night. Maybe a fairy will come in and grant your wishes. Not at Madness, but maybe in some other universe, on some distant planet you'll be able to beat me without help.

Go on, Peter, make more claims about your amazingness, and yet you're dodging Tommy Gunn only to face off with his 8 year old nephew. You're so awesome you have to only fight kids. And me, but it took you forever to even accept that match. Do you wake up in the morning and wonder how to be the biggest pussy in the world? It's ok, but honestly do you really think yelling at people about a goddamn Pepsi Cola will make you seem awesome? Do you? Or do you think it impresses people when you talk big about things out your control? Like how this match had to happen. Because you didn't want this match, I had to force the issue. You were trying to get out of it.

What makes you think that Gunn will try and interfere with the match? He doesn't interfere in your matches, he just attacks you in the hallways. Since I know I won't lose, let's take a minute to laugh at your crazy threats. Make me clean your house? Is that the worst you've got planned? Cleaning your house? No, fighting Sebastian Duke. Something that only you seem to be afraid of. Or facing Vinnie Lane? I'm already doing that on Thursday, and if the arguments are any indication of how a match is going to, Vinnie's losing. Or run a gauntlet of everyone here? Really? Those are your big threats to me? God, you're fucking pathetic. No wonder people hate you.


Are you going to tell me that the thought of you plugging a little boy's asshole is worse than you wriggling on top of that manbearpig you keep talking about? The AIDs riddled half man half bear all pig you call a wife, that's somehow better than a young fresh ripe asshole? But go on, be mean, tough, and vicious to all the middle school kids on the block. Tell us to suck your dick and they'll all think you're fucking hardcore. No one else will, but those little kids you chase after will. It's perfectly fine with them to demand other people suck your dick, in fact, it's the most cutting edge and badass thing ever.

Did you really jack my acceptance of people banging kids spiel? You took my sentiment, and tried to twist it on me? God, no wonder you love Vinnie Lane so very much, you and he use the same argument tactics. Then you also say you don't fuck kids who have a higher IQ than I do? So, you bang kids with a lower IQ than I do? Now your argument about your skill goes to needing help to win. Name a singles match you've won that matters, one where you didn't get carried? You can't, because you can only succeed when you have someone backing you, someone much more skilled than you are. Me? I can do it without help. In fact, I'm better off without help.

Did you really accuse me of being a slow moving slug, when I've been constantly on top of you. I've been on top of everything going on with you, and I'm somehow slow? Does that make any fucking sense? It's ok, Peter. Are you a god now? Are you? Didn't you get raped, and beaten constantly for the last year almost? And yet you're god. Fucking nice, a god who can't handle anything on his own. Let me bow down right now and start praying to you. Because you're clearly the deity that needs the praise of handicapped children to exist.

Peter, I will see you at Madness, and then I will shove you straight through the cage.


Pest drops the camera and begins to walk into the XWF lunchroom. He walks over to the fridge where people keep their lunches, and begins to sift through them, opening them up, taking a bite and then tossing them to the ground. Until he finds the one he wants. He pulls the particular lunch container and walks over to a table. He sits down and begins to eat the food, when Barbie comes over and plops down next to him. She begins to play with her hair, trying to get his attention. He ignores her.

Barbie:Hey, Pestie Poo. You seem kind of excited today. What's up?

Mr. WGWF:Not much, just enjoying a nice meal before I destroy Peter. Why do you seem extra needy today?

Barbie:I'm not. I just want my boyfriend to talk to me. I like hearing your voice.

He drops his fork, and grabs a hold of Barbie's throat and locks eyes with her.

Mr. WGWF:I am not your goddamn boyfriend. I am the man who has made you suffer, and will do it again. Yes, I fuck you like crazy, and yes, I buy you things, but I am not your boyfriend.

He lets go, and she looks sad.

Barbie:I want to be your girlfriend. I told all my friends about us, and they're so excited to meet you.

Mr. WGWF:You did what? Come here!

He grabs Barbie, gets up, and drags her to a stairwell with him where he lifts her up and hurls her down the stairs. She gets up and just looks at him.

Mr. WGWF:Now, that ensures your lack of pregnancies, and hopefully will teach you to not tell people we're dating.

Barbie:Sorry, babe.

Mr. WGWF:Now, I'm going to go finish eating Peter Gilmour's lunch. Go play with your dolls or something.