Robbie walks out into view holding the American flag in one hand, a microphone in the other.

Ahem.

This thing on?

Kim Jong sending out a little pawn?

Are we supposed to sit back, watch you and just fawn? A war criminal strutting around teating up the lawn, taking all comers telling them to get gone? Shit, this dude is smoking something, what the fuck are you on? You stand around talking about success and failure, about the way of life in North Korea like we didn't already get it. 2008 called, dude, they said they wanted their headline back. Your urgency is noted, your timing, out of whack. You'll talk about my record, put my reputation on the stack, sir, without acknowledging the perception that you lack, sir, to defend yourself honestly and truthfully from this brutal ass American attack, sir.

Robbie presses a button on his watch, and he instantly transforms into Percival Pringle IV. He presses the button again and is back in his natural Bourbonic form.

Didja miss me?

Didja pucker up them lips thinking maybe he was gonna kiss me?

Come up with some interesting new way to come and dis me? Maybe he'll turn up that flamethrower, come out and roast me 'till I'm crispy? Kick me all across the yard like I was a little pipsqueak? You're a freak. Fuck you and fuck your lack of class. Fuck North Korea, fuck Kim Jong's chubby ass. Every time you open your fucking mouth it's nothing but disrespect, don't push it on the people, stud, that ain't coming here correct, maybe it's the culture clash that causes this disconnect, but the whole world knows Uncle Sam's a roughneck when he's coming to collect. You're getting rekt. Staying home in North Korea sounds smart in circumspect, maybe you should have got your head checked, because from sea to shining sea I'm here to make sure your worthless hateful ass gets decked.

Robbie walks up and throws a haymaker, putting NKWC down for a pin...

Welcome to the melting pot, motherfucker. Tell Dennis we miss him when you report in next time.

"HAHA Jesus Christ.

Did that punch give me a concussion or is the universe fucking joking right now?

Am I being attacked by Luchador Chris Farley?

Was that rhyming supposed to distract me from how fucking fat you are? Shouldn't you check with your doctor first to see if 'talking' is too strenuous for someone at your fitness level?

When Maya Angelou reached the afterlife, did God re-incarnate her, but took all her poetic talent out and replaced it with 'Loving the taste of Cookie Crisp cereal'?

Holy shit, did those elbow pads used to fit you?

I get that your picture is supposed to be you tearing out of your clothes. But try a different photographer, all that photo captures is 'you're too fat for those XXL Spanx'."

You look like a Fat Biology Teacher wearing a knock-off Captain Falcon costume.

You look like a kid whose make-a-wish was to be a superhero for a day, if the kid was dying from arteries clogged with HAM.

Are you supposed to be a superhero? Is your super power getting winded walking down stairs and dying in your early 40s?

Is your utility belt filled with insulin, cotton candy or cotton candy flavored insulin?

Why do you need that ill-fitting mask? Was it not hard enough to see your penis?

Shit, apologies, we're fighting... It's just so distracting... Do your flaps ever stop undulating?

Like, I'm afraid to kick out... Can I catch diabetes from touching you? Are Fun-yuns contaigious?

Fuck, it just dawned on me: that punch didn't knock me out, the smell did.

Your fist tasted like Fun Dip and years of pent-up sexual frustration.

Which, not to get personal, but that's also what your mother tasted like...

Not my proudest moment. It's hard to figure out which part to fuck when your sexual partner is perfectly spherical.

Like mother, like son, the old wisdom goes.

Speaking of your mother, when she sits around the house, she sits AROUND the house.

And when she sits AROUND a hospital, it's because diabetic neuropathy has set in and the doctor's taking her other foot.

You're calling Glorious Leader Kim Jong-Un fat?

Talk about the pot calling the kettle black while riding in a rascal scooter and watching day-time television.

In True Korea, we don't have fat people. I admit, it makes us falling down less funny. And when a North Korean dies, no one can convert him into a beanbag chair.

Two points for you, gross portly Americans.

In the future XWF, we shall excise the morbidly obese Americans.

By which I mean, ALL Americans, over time.

But you first obviously. Because, FUCK.

Swan Song? To your toes maybe.

Anyway, better break this count. Only person counting to three tonight is you, counting half your chins in the mirror.

Glory to the slimming of the XWF.

Glory to Jenny Craig.

Glory to True Korea."

NKWC forces a shoulder into the air... somehow forcing the blubbery mass off!

Oh no that guy called me fat. I didn't know that he'd step in and talk about how I look about my diet my workout regimen and the food that I cook.

I think your communist ties are giving you a skewing sensation. North Korea has as much food as the average gas station. No wonder you think I'm fat and questioned my gestation. Open your mouth wider kid so we can all hear the verbal menstruation. Your mouth runs, kinda, like some bleeding vagina, and I'm wondering you'll find a tampon for your gums that'll cause some cessation of you hyping your nation, which is a stone age plantation. Yeah I'm big as a bull, I keep myself full, but at least I'm not Kim Jong's cattle, being brought up to praise and worship and honor and prattle, for some supreme leader whose ass needs to see a paddle; you really think being bigger and stronger makes me worse for battle?

Shit, you want to count Chins, sir, perhaps you aught to check the men pulling Kim Jong's strings.

You the servant of a tyrannical little puppet, you can't beat shit. Just another little peon from the 3rd world, just beat it. Your English is applaudible, your tact and guile is off, I wonder how many other Commie piggies you beat to the trough to slurp up some slime until you choke and you cough in some Big Brother, dystopian existence drempt up by Isaac Asimov.

And Captain Falcon? What, I thought the South Korean kids were the only ones who played Nintendo. There isn't enough electricity north of Camp Casey to power a fucking pencil sharpener.

Robbie throws another Captain America punching Hitler haymaker.

"Apologies, did you think I was insulting you? Not the case.

I was reading notes from your last doctor's visit.

I did my best. I couldn't exactly 'read' the doodles in the margins, but to sum up, he drew you as a beached whale. The doctor labeled the Ocean you would never return to 'meaningful relationships' and the beach you were stuck on 'Oreos'.

Are you still rhyming, you fucking slab of lard and chocolate?

Is this how to reclaim the glorious XWF NorthKoreanWarCriminalweight championship? Fucking Vanilla Icing me into submission?

Could you not write a Plan B because you ran out of paper in the house writing up your grocery list for the week?

I'm glad you stopped by, Robbie. I'm learning a lot.

I've never heard the argument before that obesity makes you better at fighting. But look at the facts.

Who wants to wrestle when the second Robbie Bourbon steps in the ring, the ropes smell like yeast?

You can hide quite an array of weapons in those stomach rolls.

Plus, you can't get pinned or submitted if you couldn't pay someone to touch your malformed butterbody.

I'd take your advice to improve my in-ring ability, but I enjoy life's little joys too much: fitting through doors, having a functional reproductive system.

Side question, can you get hard without thinking about ice cream?

Thinking about frozen yogurt doesn't count.

Quote:Shit, you want to count Chins, sir, perhaps you aught to check the men pulling Kim Jong's strings.

...

...Oh.

Because Asian people are named Chin.

... Is that the best you have?

Didn't realize you were fat AND stupid.

Then again, you're American. Why wouldn't I just assume that?

Shit, is stupid communicable? IS IT SPREADING THROUGH THE AIR?

That would explain why your country's the way it is.

America is a disease.

Its symptoms are intolerance, obesity, fanatical devotion to a failed political structure, hatred of your poor, hatred of your marginalized, hatred of the intelligent, worship of your rich.

But, go ahead. Mock True Korea. A country that does less harm to the environment, has less nuclear arms and is currently occupying fewer objecting nations than yours is.

Assume I couldn't afford a fucking Nintendo. That company that has manufactured 16 million different varieties of products, millions of those produced and sold each, at the very least. Assuming I don't have electricity because your News spreads deceits and falsehoods about the North Korean people and infrastructure daily to keep your populace in fear and under their control.

Fuck yourself, your rotund bleating racist American sheep.

It's clear you devour American propaganda like you do slices of cheesecake. Daily, without remorse or consideration for its effect on your mind and body."

NKWC rolls to his feet.

AND DELIVERS A DEVOTED VALIANT SOLDIER'S SOCCER KICK TO THE GROIN.

Robbie collapses in a heap, inside cradling his small package.

"Can someone roll this fat fuck out? I'm done with him."

Robbie stands up, his grapefruit sized balls feeling the brunt of North Korea's mighty foot. So, not phased at all.

Oh no, he's making fun of my picture again.

Time to squash that little filthy rat again, pummel that fuck right down into the mat again, not because he called me fat again, but because he had another spat again.

Robbie rips his shirt off, revealing a perfectly chiseled six pack.

Lookit the guy spitting bile from his liver, I'll your mother weep and your daddy shiver, and your sister, well I would make her quiver but when she was born you boiled her and ate her ass for dinner. I guess that behavior us the cure for what ails the USA, people are food now, well, I guess that's okay, but you're not here to make shit better anyway, just come to complicate the average people's day, and that sir, is something you'd best avoid, sir, because as colorful as you might be at describing obesity in America, sir, it ain't that fucking complex.

Say what you want to about my homeland, while getting American dollars, eating American food, taking American medicine, and, well, primarily talking to an American audience. Well, fully international. All around the world right now people are seeing your pathetic ass get mashed like potatoes and served up next to USDA Choice Grade A Beef in me.

Except in North Korea. I don't think the XWF website is available there.

You represent the very worst of humanity, a culture of humiliation and degredation that don't even compare to whatever TMZ can dig up on you. You're a unit, your mother was a unit, and you didn't even have a choice to fight me.

Here in America, you might do well to take note, we choose to not tolerate, to hate, to lotion up and masturbate, to decry the state, to get seconds on our plate, committing Watergate, no show for a date, ain't that great?

I get the idea might leave you befuddled and drooling. Go ask your fancy mangod, if he isn't busy Supremely Ruling.

Robbie delivers an all American Robbiebomb.

Quote:Say what you want to about my homeland, while getting American dollars, eating American food, taking American medicine, and, well, primarily talking to an American audience.

“…

What you’ve done is execute a perfect ad hominem fallacy AND a textbook example of Tu quoque.

Well done.

I’m sure you know neither term. I’ll explain.

Ad Hominem is when someone, instead of arguing the point made, attacks the speaker they argue against.

A Tu quoque is alleging hypocrisy disproves an argument. Which it does not.

These are two techniques frequently employed by blind, ignorant Americans when their own rancid hypocrisy is forced into their noses, like a dog’s mess on the carpet.

Instead of taking a deep breath and seeing the flaws, they thrust back and bite the hand trying to educate them.

Too far gone to learn.

I sense a pattern.

I deliver hilarious, yet eloquently delivered points demonstrating the inherent hypocrisy of America’s ‘Everyone has the right to free speech’, ‘Love it or Leave It, you disgusting foreigner!’ mentality.

And thrice now, your comments have been….

Quote:well I would make her QUIVER but when she was born you boiled her and ate her ass for DINNER

…ALMOST rhyming… Gibberish.

Gibberish actually feels kind at this point as a descriptor.

You’re not saying anything.

Quote:You're a unit, your mother was a unit, and you didn't even have a choice to fight me.

It’s just words upon words, hoping something sticks, desperately flailing as you run headfirst into every single one of my blows.

No retort, no argument.

Except... America.

Quote:we choose to not tolerate, to hate, to lotion up and masturbate, to decry the state, to get seconds on our plate, committing Watergate, no show for a date, ain't that great?

An Intolerant, racist, hedonistic, contrarian, consumption-obsessed, corrupt, unpunctual, mediocre nation.

By your own standards.

And yet, because you’ve been told so, it is great.

Appropriate.

You truly are a man of the people.

The people, being the filthy low-class degenerate sheep Americans you play to.

The blind leading the blind.

Quote:a culture of humiliation and degrEdation

…

Oh, shoot.

The Dr. Seuss-esque pseudo-rhymes…

The fact that you just keep trying to awkwardly hug me to the ground.

That outfit.

You smell like you eat glue.

It just clicked.

I thought I was defending my NorthKoreanWarCriminalweight championship…

…But, I’ve just been beating up a mentally challenged boy.

That’s the only way it makes sense that you’re still here, wasting my time…

You're lost...

Shit.

Do you have a handler?

We don’t have the mentally challenged in True Korea.

(They’re too delicious to save. My sister especially.)

So, this is actually out of my skill set…”

NKWC kicks out! And from his belt, pulls out a jar of… Play-Doh.

He tosses it down the hall.

“Go on, boy! Get it! You know it’s delicious!”

NKWC begins running in the opposite direction.

“Someone else take him!”

Robbie holds up his phone, Google already open.

Sorry to disappoint, chum, two steps ahead regarding your legalese. Your explainations are weak, dull, and bland, are you sure you didn't mean to play the fat card? Oh shit, debunked, now I guess I'm a . You're struggling there, kid, this shit just got too hard, spewing half-cocked horse shit like a manure playing bard, you still haven't done shit to me, my people, our my flag striped and starred.

It's adorable you keep coming back for more when you're just the tool of a propaganda whore but you can't ignore what's in store for your ass when it hits the floor. Your body won't be worth the funeral to your fearless Supreme Ruler, sir, he won't even acknowledge your failure, sir, so suck his nuts like hard candy while getting stomped by this Yankee Doodle Dandy.

I think it's something missing in translation. You need a proper education. Let's start with the ABCs.

A is for 'ass', like how yours is being served up like bulgogi.

B is for 'bitch', like you.

C is for 'chump', like you.

D is for 'damn', as in 'damn this bitch ass chump'.

E is for 'everybody', like everybody knows you'll find some other stance here in a minute to fail at standing for.

F is for 'fuck', like 'fuck this shit, I'm kicking your ass while delivering pizza'.

Robbie winks and sets a pizza delivery bag down, delivering another Robbiebomb. He molds the play doh into a perfect model of Kim Jong-Un and squished it into NKWC's mouth.

Doesn't he taste how you dreampt?

Quote:Robbie winks and sets a pizza delivery bag down, delivering another Robbiebomb. He molds the play doh into a perfect model of Kim Jong-Un and squished it into NKWC's mouth.

NKWC leans back on the ground exhausted.... No energy in the tank...

Could his empire's reign be over...

The official drops down to count....

....

....

....

Silence.

NKWC opens his eyes and stares up at his opponent.

The impressive sculpture approximation of the supreme leader slowly drips from inside mouth onto his chest.

For a moment, he says nothing. Perplexed.

A moment of realization.

A wide grin spreads across his face.

"You simple, fucking idiot."

"You forgot to pin me."

NKWC lies on the ground cackling, back flat on the concrete floor of the hallway this attack began in.

The official counts to 3...

Mentally... because of course no actual pin occurred.

NKWC starts making snow angels on the ground. Almost choking on how hard he is laughing.

Up to 10 now. Or rather, we would be if Robbie Bourbon hadn't forgotten how to end a wrestling contest.

"Oh my fucking Supreme Leader. What a joke you are!"

"You came here with one god-damned purpose and four notebooks full of childhood rhymes."

"You actually managed to corner me."

"And then you forget to fucking pin me."

For the first time in about 60 seconds, NKWC's shoulders lift off the ground, but only to hold his sides in full-on howling laughter.

He slides from his back onto his hip, beating the floor with the side of his fist, trying to regain his composure, amazed at the lack of intelligence demonstrated by Bourbon.

He rolls and crushes the play-doh sculpture underneath him, which only makes him laugh harder.

"YOU WERE TOO BUSY MAKING A GOD-DAMNED PLAY-DOH DOLL TO REMEMBER HOW PINNING WORKS!!!!!"

"FUCK!"

"I wrestled Tommy Wish before this!"

"TOMMY! WISH!"

"How are you the dumbest person to ever try for my belt?!?"

"You think 'English' is 'Legalese'..."

"You think the fact that you're too dense to understand a logic argument means you're winning aforementioned argument..."

"You put a p-sound in the word dreamt..."

"AND YOU FORGOT TO FUCKING PIN ME!!!!!!"

NKWC crawls up the wall from the floor, still guffawing. His eyes are full of tears of innocent, bemused glee.

From a feeling of outright mental superiority over his opponent in every conceivable way.

He works his way to his feet. As does the official, who awkwardly dusts off his shirt, pretending not to have dropped to one knee, to make a count which never came.

NKWC's laughter slows to a giggle...

Then a chortle...

Then a smile.

"Welp. This was fun. Let's end this."

NKWC reels back. HONORABLE WARRIOR'S BRASS KNUCKLE PUNCH!

...

TO THE OFFICIAL!

The ref crumples into a heap.

NKWC runs down the hall to escape further attack, but even if Robbie catches him, there's no official to count!

And were there, would Robbie remember to FUCKING PIN HIS OPPONENT?!?!?

Robbie rolls his eyes at the oversight that the powerbombed man with a play doh doll in his mouth had his shoulders up.

Listen up crotch stain.

You don't want none, don't come for none, just stay down when you get laid down and when going on the way down to hell, which is still a sight better than North Korea these days, just imagine to yourself one simple thing.

You'd have been better off remaining a piece of your daddy's smegma.

These are the days, on this earth, where we find out our worth, where one can define their own birth, we're talking past the size of my girth and whatever it is you hold sacred from your wasteland you call True Korea. This is when we see who truly can be the champion we believe who can lay the smack down for free on suckers like you who don't have any sense to be true to themselves but some dictator. Like they take pride in the fact they're some repressed masturbater, get up kid, here comes the hater, the power of a god damned freighter, ready for his waiter to bring him a dish of some Korean debater from halfway 'round the equator gotten beaten by the mad rhyme creator. I got the spark in the dark, give the gas carburetor burn up your radiator, you're a vicious North Korean perpetrator and I'll be back.

Like a fucking Terminator.

Where's your diatribe, your banter, your clever come back? You sure the tank is empty, sir, do you need a drink of water, sir, perhaps some of those awesome nutrients you can only get back home. Do you prefer Alpo or Purina when playing Kim-Jong's lap dog?

Robbie does the slow, methodical plod of most horror movie killers, like Jason Voorhees or a Michael Meyers, down the hall after NKWC. He grabs him, picks him up, cradles him, and firmly plants him to the floor with a pinfall.

...NO ONE COUNTS.

NKWC KNOCKED OUT THE OFFICIAL!

The champion sighs, having now tolerated five failed almost-pins from Robbie Bourbon.

"Do you ever think, Robbie? Do you ever consider how to make your plans succeed?

Or is it always Plan A, fail, repeat?

Seems to be your default promo style.

To pull a page from your playbook, Robbie.

'Oh, he's calling me the Supreme Leader's lap dog again.'

Almost clever the first time.

We're onto #5.

My promos have covered,

You're fat -> You're a bigot blindly supporting your corrupt homeland -> Your mind is closed to truth to the point of potential mental deficiency -> You're the dumbest moron to ever take me on.

Your promos have been...

North Korea sucks & I suck-> Same -> Repeat -> Again -> Encore

Even when I call out your lies (we lack food or electricity), you pretend that I'm out of steam or making things up and that you're the one wrecking me.

You're too dense to know you're dense. How fucked is that?

How truly dim-witted are you to think because I'm Korean, I unconditionally worship the Supreme Leader?

His title is Supreme Leader. Hence we call him that. I am loyal to his rule but no more.

Do I call you 'lapdog' for obeying laws laid down by your President?

No.

I call you a lap dog because you have the brains of a golden retriever and smell like kibble and flea collars.

While we're discussing promos.

A rule of thumb for rhyming and trash talk.

If you can say something and have it hit your opponent without rhyming?

Do that without rhyming.

If you can do both effectively, great.

But as we have demonstrated today, you cannot. In fact, you're the worst promo I've ever seen.

What are you talking about?

Quote:These are the days, on this earth, where we find out our worth, where one can define their own birth, we're talking past the size of my girth...

What days are these days? Girth? I haven't brought up you being fat in two promos? What the fuck are you on?

Quote:This is when we see who truly can be the champion

It'll be the guy who remembers how a pin works, Robbie.

Looks like you're out.

Try for the X-Treme Title. Winning that is dumb luck.

And you've got the 'dumb' part in spades.

I can't even do the 'Glory to True Korea' sign-off.

There's no glory out-witting a stupid fat slob who doesn't know he got beat on the mic three promos ago.

Don't worry about my tank. I can go all night. Every stupid comment, every time you butcher a rhyme, my tank fills ten times over."

NKWC shoves the awkward fat loser off of him.

Robbie stands up...

BOOT TO THE STOMACH.

AND NKWC DELIVERS A ROBBIE BOMB TO ROBBIE BOURBON!

The champion stands over his fallen opponent.

"I'm only getting stronger, Robbie. And you're the same.

A weak pudgy nothing."

Ooh, crotch stain is back.

Oh shit, he's talking down to me while standing on...

What the fuck exactly?

I mean, first you whine about some logic tongue twister I didn't give a shit about, and the tears and the moaning about how I should pay attention to your logic conundrums. I bet your dad talks to you like that, huh? Supreme Leader, maybe?

Wait, did you just say you're not even following the Supreme Leader anymore?

NorthKoreanWarCriminal Said:
His title is Supreme Leader. Hence we call him that. I am loyal to his rule but no more.

But, wait, I thought...

NorthKoreanWarCriminal Said:
You're calling Glorious Leader Kim Jong-Un fat?

So, you were calling him glorious, even getting hella defensive over the notion of someone calling him fat, and now you're not loyal to him?

So, what you're telling me is I failed every step at the pass when you just renounced Kim Jong yourself? Seems to me, kid, that even though you don't grasp my methods or means, the people themselves can see the cracks in your act more evidently than you'll ever even see, well, anything I suppose.

Shit, no wonder you feel stronger. Like I said stud, welcome to the melting pot.

I'm presuming you have a visa or a green card, yeah?

I hope, because that's what's kind of needed to work in this here country.

I mean, you are here to enforce the law, and make sure that every debate is cleanly won. So much so that you even wrap your head around semantics.

I'ma wrap your head around a lamp post and break your body with a sledge.

So that's really cute you can point out some goofy technical savvy. You can't talk shit to save your life, you just sound like someone bitching and moaning that someone else is running with the ball when you wanted to. Hold on.

Robbie slaps a bib and a bonnet on NKWC.

There there, little guy. Here, you need some love don't you?

Never got any kind of tenderness back in North Korea, grew up sweating the small stuff.

Like his own dick.

Poor little War Criminal, I'm sure someone will be here soon to keep the big bad Bourbon man from making fun of you, for calling you a dog, for shooting right through your puny little attempts at trash talk, for ignoring it when you have to say you won a bunch of promos ago, for saying Ad Hominem and Tu quoque are English phrases when they're really Latin, and here in the U.S. most Latin is used in courts thus called legalese, but that's because you're an ignorant twat who's lost in translation and can't learn because he can't listen.

Awwww.

You want your bah-bah now? Maybe your pacifier?

Shit, stud, you're blathering all sorts of gibberish left and right, you smell like you shit your pants, you look like you want to cry, just go have a little nappy nap. Go to sleep, close your eyes, and it'll all be over in three seconds.

Robbie spoonfeeds NKWC some strained peas and carrots, then delivers another haymaker and pins NKWC.

...Ref's unconscious.

Still.

Even I, the narrator, am stunned.

Robbie can summon up baby carrots and instantly get a job delivering pizza, (So much for that American job crisis...)

But he can't figure out one referee is necessary for this scenario to work?

NKWC beats his head backwards against the concrete floor, as he berates Bourbon.

"I can't even call you stupid, Robbie. How can I outline your stupidity verbally when your actions speak so much louder!?!"

'...Oh shit. This idiot can only win arguments in his own head.'

His Title is ALSO Glorious Leader.

Like calling Obama, Mr. President, Commander in Chief or Corrupt Tyrant.

They're different titles, all equally true.

And you say I'm obsessed with semantics and conundrums?

I never said I was unloyal to him.

I SAID THE FUCKING OPPOSITE.

I HAVE TO QUOTE MYSELF NOW BECAUSE YOU'RE TOO FUCKING STUPID TO COMPREHEND ENGLISH.

Quote:His title is Supreme Leader. Hence we call him that. I am loyal to his rule but no more.

I work for the Supreme Leader. An employee.

There's a difference between 'lapdog' and 'employee'. I'd explain it, BUT I ALREADY DID.

Did I get defensive? Or did I state that you're too fat to call others fat?

I'd say people in glass houses shouldn't throw stones.

But you'd just start eating rocks and claiming 'there isn't glass in North Korea'.

It's easy to pretend you're winning an argument when you're DEAF AND DELUSIONAL, ROBBIE.

Diabetes and hearing loss, the US' biggest health concerns, and Bourbon has both.

Good luck fixing that with your flawed, capitalist American healthcare system.

At this point, I should copy your playbook and argue with myself. MY OPPONENT WOULD HAVE FOUR WHOLE BRAIN CELLS.

'Oh shit, this guy has four brain cells.'

I have four or more brain cells. You do not.

I'M COVERING MY ASS SO YOU DON'T CHERRY PICK AND SOMEHOW MAKE YOURSELF LOOK EVEN DUMBER.

'Recommending cherries? A FRUIT? Oh shit, this guy's calling me fat again.'

YOU'VE TAKEN THE JOYFUL ACTIVITY OF ASSAULTING A FAT MENTALLY-CHALLENGED BOY AND MADE IT TEDIOUS!!!!

When did I renounce the Supreme Leader?

My stance hasn't changed.

Glory to True Korea.

Glory to Kim Jong-Un.

Fuck YOU.

YOU'RE not worth my time.

You're having heart palpatations, hallucinating and yelling at straw men.

Pretending a Latin phrase that operates as a term definition for English speakers... Still isn't English.

Both in Merriam-Webster, but didn't come from here? GO BACK TO LATINLAND.

How perfectly Xenophobicly American.

I'm done.

Thanks for that last promo's length.

524 words.

Goodbye."

NKWC lifts his knee into Robbie's crotch!

Hero's Whatever-Ends-This-Fight-Already!

Robbie rolls in pain as NKWC mounts him, brass-knuckles ready.

He cradles Robbie's skull and starts pounding him again and again in the face.

The Korean looks up and calls out to nearby XWF officials.

"STOP THIS. THIS WAS AT NO POINT COMPETITIVE OR EVEN ENTERTAINING."

NKWC's right fist, after six blows, is drenched in blood.

He smiles.

And continues.

Gladiator has been standing just out of view this entire time, enjoying every moment of this. You know, Criminal, I think part of the problem here is your terrible accent, and your refusal to pace yourself the way people here in America speak. You need cruise control or something. When you said you were loyal to your leader's rule but no more, you confused some people because you don't know where to enunciate and where to pause. All you had to do in order to change the entire perception of that sentence was pause before the word but, but you didn't, you butt. Damn foreigners. Work on your breathing; in, out, in, out. Gladiator kept his eyes closed as he lifted his hands gently with every breath.

And Robbie, says Glad as he opens his eyes and turns his attention to the big man who is just rising back to his feet. What are you trying to do to this man if not pin him? You started out with a pin attempt but somewhere things just turned into you bullying him and sticking things in his mouth because he's a small Asian boy. How many different things did you stuff in his mouth during all of this? What was going to be next? Please, for the love of all that is holy, forcing things into his mouth isn't going to help his speech impediment.

And what's this you say, Criminal? You say Robbie spoke too many words in one of his recent attacks? You're really reaching now. You're just another coward grasping at any technicality and looking around for any sign of help from officials to come running and save you from the big bad smelly bully who treats you like a deflated blowup doll- yet you'll also attack those same officials if things aren't going your way.

I'm calling an immediate stop to this and calling it a successful defense by a sniveling, cranky coward. I can't just let you both keep this up until nobody is left alive. Congratulations, North Korean War Cr.. Gladiator blinks, wondering where NKWC disappeared to that quickly. He turns to Robbie and shrugs, saying I think you scared the poor little fella.