'Hooooooooooooooooooooooooly shit. This is going to be a long one. Fucking, finally, it took all week, and it even included me making fun of his name, but Kesslar the Cockler spoke up. Apparently he doesn't think it's nifty when I call him a , or call him a cock, or a jerk off, or whatever else I may or may not have called him. I guess there's only one thing left to fucking do. HEY KESSLER, YOU'RE A COCK SUCKING, , JERK OFF, MUD DUCK, QUEER ASS, SALAD TOSSING HOMOEROTIC, ROMANCE NOVEL. Yes. I said it, I felt it needed said, and I am quite pleased with myself. Do you wanna cry about it? I'll understand if you do. Take a minute, because it's only going to get worse. Not just the level of insults I'm going to throw at you, but also when you get your ass kicked in the ring, despite the promises of winning and being pure. Go on, tell your fans that you got called a , and then had your ass kicked. Tell them I did it for hate crime reasons. But remember one thing. I AM NOT BLAND. You find me another mother fucker walking this earth who does what I do, and I will give you a thousand dollars.
How in the unholy sphincter of Macaulay Caulkin's dried up, stretched out, funky smelling, gingerbread baking asshole can you call me bland? I get Jack, he's just some asshole draped in toilet paper jerking off to kids getting raped. But me? I'm far from Bland, I spent a week calling Hank Lane a pedophile! I fucked a sheep. I showed the world Mandii's goodies! You? You're as generic as they come. And no, I don't mean that in a sexual way. I mean that in a, you're just like Harrison, and so many others before him way, except they're not as fucking bland as you are. You fucking tuna sandwich on white bread, mother fucker. . There's nothing special about you, except your education, and the stupid way you say your name. I fucking hate you for that name, dude. Serious hate. If you came to try and date my son, I say son because there's no way you could be attracted to girls, I would kick your ass just for coming to my house with that piece of shit name. Honest to fucking god, your name pisses me off more than anything else you have said to me, bruh. Fucking change it. Change it to Steven FuckmyFace, or something like that. At least we can take you more seriously than calling yourself Kesslar. FUCKING , BRUH. Pure .
Moving on to the only person in the ring that is more useless than Teri Schiavo's asshole. Yep, Jack, or Jill, or whatever. Who the fuck cares what your name is, it's better than Kesslar. Fuck that name. Anyway, baby doll, we gotta speak for real. You know, you come over to my place, I make a wonderful Baked Ziti, I light a few candles, pop a bottle of a nice Pinot Grigio, and we talk all romantic like over dinner. The topic of conversation? How fucking stupid you are, you fake titted mausoleum piece. I mean, fucking hell. Really? I watched your promo, and I swear to god, the longer this shit drags out the stupider you get. You have managed to go this long without dropping one piece of intelligent dialogue. For real, I need to ask you something. Were you dropped on your head repeatedly as a child, and all throughout puberty? Is that what happened? Because, it'd explain so much. I don't understand how twenty people, all using the same moniker, can be as fucking stupid as you've shown yourself to be. Like, you'd think at least one of them would have a fucking brain. But no, not a fucking one of you can figure shit out on your own.
Manson has not deceived me, nor has he convinced me of anything that I did not see with my own eyes. Manson is fucking better than you are. Plain and simple. Do you fucking get it, yet? Hell, Manson could take a shit in his clogged up toilet, and that'd be a better person than you. But, you'd know all about shit, wouldn't you? You shit covered toilet paper mother fucker. What the actual fuck is wrong with you? Seriously? Can you not fucking figure out how inferior to Manson you are. You cannot see why you've been excluded from the Higher Power's love. It's because you're a fool, and a moron.
My baby girl knows that there is no way I'd ever trash her, again. She knows she's my princess, and that I love her. I mean, I did already spit in her face, and disown her once, but that's not gonna happen again. She knows that, because she's my angel, and I love her.
A guaranteed loss to you? You think I'm going to ever lose to you? You think you have any chance of ever beating me? Seriously? How high are you right now? Because no way any sober mother fucker could possibly think you can beat me. What makes you think you have a chance against me at all? You couldn't beat Tank, and I did. You couldn't beat anyone you've ever faced, except Fyre. Hell, I took out Justin Sane, when you couldn't. You couldn't even win a match in which Mastermind is a contestant. I want you to think about that. YOU COULD NOT WIN A MATCH IN WHICH MASTERMIND WAS A CONTESTANT. You are so fucking shit at fighting, you couldn't even beat Mastermind. The man has lost almost twice as often as he wins, and you couldn't beat him. Seriously, dude. And you think you have a shot against me? For reals? So much so that you're guaranteeing it.
What are you planning doing to do to change that loss into a victory? Face only people like Mastermind? Because as we've shown, you'll still lose. Fuck, bruh. You can't even beat Mastermind, and you got fucked up at War Games, but you think you've got a shot against me somehow? And you think that studying Tank is going to show you the way to beat me? How? We fight differently. He's a straight out brawler, I'm more of a badass. I beat mother fuckers with socks full of butter, he puts Meat Hooks through his body. BECAUSE HE'S A FUCKING BEAST. Unlike you.
You think telling me that we'll fall, to you, isn't a threat? You've all but declared war. Now, I cannot speak for the rest of the Asylum, but I personally say bring it. I will go to the store, buy some Fancy Feast, and Faygo, and I will sit down in my front yard, wearing only a Speedo, waiting for you to come for me. If you manage to sack up and come for me, I will personally fuck your life up so badly that you will need to walk around with a fucking service dog. The dog will serve to calm you down, because every time you hear a foot step, you will begin to fucking spaz out in Vietnam style Flashbacks to the time I shattered every bone in your body, and busted your iris in half. In half, bruh. Busted fucking iris. BECAUSE I AM A BAD MOTHER FUCKER. It's true, Bad Mother Fucker is tattooed on my dick. In Swahili, bruh. Know what it says? 'Mbaya mama mpumbavu' ON My DICK.
Want proof of my badassery? Scorpio, you don't know him, but he was a fucking beast, explained my badassery Here Check it out, bruh.
Your past determines how you're looked at, homie. Maybe if you had more skill you could mock my past, but you don't. Eat Sarah's mom's used tampon, bitch.
So, you're going to keep going with the Katie shit, eh? Cause it worked so well for you before. Because you know, you had a chance to win before, so you thought pissing me off would increase that chance from 0.000000000000000000001% to maybe 0.5% or something. I dunno. It's not clear how the fuck your mind works, or maybe it is. I don't actually give enough of a shit to check it out. Because you're not fucking worth it. You're a fucking bloody tampon mother fucker. Hell, I bet if you go walking around in public looking like that Lucena's mom thinks you're a walking tampon, and tries to jam you in her nasty immigrant pussy. You probably let her, you sick fuck.
And no, I don't need to win to get paid. Winning just increases the money I get paid. And why would I rob a bank, I could get shot doing that. The worst that could happen facing you is that I might break my nail. You're not a fucking threat to me, not at all. Not even if I was in a coma, instead of Katie. If I was in a coma, and you came at me, my comatose body would destroy you. All while being non-responsive. It'd be a medical miracle, and the XWF would make trillions of dollars off of it. Shane would be able to pay off the US' debt.
Just because of how fucking useless you and your group are. I am running out of ways I can explain this to you. How is it not clear, yet? You are so fucking blinded by your own inability to do shit that you're actually believing you're good. Fuck.
And I do awesome parenting. When I need to. Like I kicked the shit out of my kids when I caught them having sex with each other. I beat Joseph-Gordon on his birthday like a boss, all because he wanted an iPhone. I am raising my kids to learn the proper ways. Microsoft yes, Apple no. And incest is wrong. But you get off on incest, you fucking freak. Eat my dirty asshole. Oh, and his fucking name is Tony, not Toby."
Frodo and Katie are still chilling in the hospital. She's still unresponsive, and shit, looking all Katie like in a coma. Frodo finally begun to eat some food. Not a lot, just some french fries and Jell-O. The Doctor was hopeful she'd come to soon, as most of her head injuries seem minor, but alas, Katie still slumbers. Sarah came into the room with a bag of clothes for Frodo, and some for Katie, should she wake up.
"Hey, sweeties. Any change?"
"No, not really."
"Well, fuck. Ok, well, what are you going to do for Monday?"
"If Baby Girl, doesn't wake up, I'm not leaving her side."
"You're booked in a match. You need to show up and fight. You've cut promos trashing this dude. You cut one sitting right here next to Katie."
"I can't leave her. Sarah, what if something happens while I'm gone?"
"You come right home and handle things."
"What if she wakes up, and I'm not here. My baby needs her daddy."
Katie rolled over. She had a half smile.
"Hey dad. Cher Lloyd is a fuck ugly Gypsy bitch."
"Baby! You're awake?! Are you telling me to go fight?"
, or call him a cock, or a jerk off, or whatever else I may or may not have called him. I guess there's only one thing left to fucking do. HEY KESSLER, YOU'RE A COCK SUCKING, ![[Image: KR2nmbx.jpg]](http://www.taddit.com/images/2013-04-03/KR2nmbx.jpg)
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