Greetings, XWF world at large. I'm sure my voice sounds vaguely familiar from my attempts at quelling my monster's appetite long enough for your lives to continue. My identity is irrelevant however, as I plan to not be at Madness. Your safety just doesn't concern me anymore, but since my monster has a rather glaring speech impediment that makes him dependent on using words like "Such" "Much" "Very" and "So" as prefixes, among others, I'm taking it upon myself to address its opponents in the order I see fit.

What I mean by that of course is in the order of who I think will fall before my perfect beast first, second, and third.

First: Simon Lee Nash. Quiet (likely due to the fact that he has nothing to say), timid (when was the last time you've even seen this guy?) and utterly cowardly (again; when was the last time this guy was even on a show?)

What is there to say about Simon Lee Nash? It isn't like he's going to respond, and he's only here to be a sacrifice for the Dogerlord, in hopes that he'll stop there and won't rip through your actual talent. A consolation prize, your way of saving face. Too bad the Dogerlord stops for no man. As a matter of fact, everything I've brought up applies double to the Crimson Dong. The lovable little oaf who fails at succeeding every time he's a part of a match that isn't him against an even worse opponent. It matters not how much pusspuss you're after, Dong, for after the Dogerlord is finished with you, you'll be lucky if you can even swallow baby food.

And now, since the nonfactors were addressed and simultaneously put down like the rabid dog(e)s that they are: I must bring my attention and ultimately the attention of the Dogerlord unto one Kristy Jackson.

One Kristy Jackson, who's managed to have quite the run of success since starting off. A run of success that's soon to be up in smoke in the matter of a few, brief, hours.

You see Miss Jackson, I've been keeping up with you and while your excruciatingly painful daily life is incredibly interesting (yawn), the fact of the matter is whenever you're tasked with the simple assignment of "Talking Smack" as you call it: you always end up falling short of that goal.

Where is my proof, you may ask? Well, since you haven't aired any of these "Smack Talking Classes" in regards to this match, I'll take a look back at the last time you did. I hope that doesn't shock you too much and if it does, you may need to learn how to deal with it.

Now, where do I start on this?

Quote:Colour me impressed. It certainly is exciting to be completing on Warfare, isn't it? This new breed of talent as they like to call themselves, have clearly made a statement and that they’re obviously here to stay. I am sure you motherfucker are saying isn't this bitch in the same position as us? Wasn't it too long ago that she made her debut in XWF? The clear fact is I don’t have to answer your slow-mined question. I've always been a lover of decent competition and I can’t wait to mix it up with the newer guys that are debuting on Warfare. Whoever I am facing in that facing it doesn't really matter the result will be the same. Yeah bitches that will be me making anyone of your lazy eyed idiotic fools my bitch. That’s a big fucking accomplishment I must tell you. Just the thought of you putting that on your next job application after I end your career will be a big happy. Thumbs fucking you for you guys.

"It certainly is exciting to be completing on Warfare, isn't it"? I'm sorry, but what? Completing? Really? Crimeny, you speak worse than the Dogerlord and he can't go two words without saying the list of words I rattled off at the beginning of this soliloquy! Ah, but that was only the second sentence of it. I'm sure there must've been some reason why she slurred her words so badly. Maybe she was drunk, or tired. I'm sure she'll find whatever it is in her that makes her feel worthy of the nickname "The Joan of Charisma-"

Wait a second, Joan of Charisma? What, is that a play on Joan of Arc? You do know that d'Arc was a family name, not a title, right? Obviously not if this was what you were going for.

Anyway, back to what she said.

Wow, such word stumbling, very inability to form sentences that are coherent- Christ, this is so awful that I'm resorting to the formula! Literally, she seems to be unable to go two whole sentences without screwing something up royally and it makes me wonder if she's legitimately .

No, not "I wanna say something offensive so I'm going to call you " like most of the roster means when they throw the word around, actually, legitimately .

Tell me, Miss Jackson, were you in the special needs classes when you were in school? Did you have to wear a helmet until you were eighteen? It's okay, I'm sort of a scientist. You can tell me these things.

Wait, what am I saying? Admitting weakness isn't something you wrestlers want to do, so even if all those things were true (which I'm fairly certain they are), you won't admit it in the hopes of saving face.

Sad. As in pathetic.

My Dogerlord, has no weakness. No overhype, no lying, no hyperbole needed.

And in a few hours, you'll see just how weak you all actually are.

MUCH RAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAH!


"What the fuck is with this guy?" I ask, staring down the hall at the giant beast with a dog(e)'s head through the thick glass window looking into Examination Chamber 12. The beast was stomping, storming throughout his cell, screaming and throwing what little things were left in the cell at the window, making it tremble and shake, but failing to break or even crack the glass. Tigris smiles, wide eyed, with an almost childlike glee before slapping me on the back and pushing me further down the hall, closer to it.

"You can't be fucking serious." The rest of Subbasement 1-C was like it always was; just another sterilized laboratory level, much like Subbasements 1-B and 1-D. White walls, chrome floor tiles that seemed to echo on and on in every direction, and just like every other part of this building, was completely devoid of all employees.

Hmm, alone with my batshit insane boss and a gigantic monstrosity? This is how I imagined my night going, totally.

This blows.

Cocks, for the record.

"Oh, but I am," she says as we finally approach the cell, the beast's roars becoming louder and louder, despite the fact that only time it said something intelligible was when we stepped off the lift that feels a million miles away. "This, is the Super Mutant Dogerlord."

"Wait, Dogerlord? Doge, like the internet meme?"

"Yes," she responded, sounding confused as to why I would be questioning this.

"How the hell did you manage to pull this off?"

"Mikael, I know you're new and all-"

"I've been here for a year and a half!" My face is turning red with anger. I can't see that, but I can feel my cheeks getting hotter.

"As I was saying, you need to know that the readers don't really care about useless technobabble. They're already willing to suspend disbelief as is."

"Say what?" She's fucking crazy. Why have I worked here so long? Why didn't I finish college? Why is the sky blue? How does eat food?

"Oh, right. You aren't in the know..." She tries to laugh off whatever blunder it was she supposedly made, which just continues to draw more ire from me.

"Don't tell me I have to go in there."

"Why on earth would I make you go in there? What do you take me for; a psychopath?"

"Yes, actually."

"Keep it up and you will go in there."

"See?"

"Shut up. I just want you to observe him from out here tonight. I'll be back in the morning, and here, take this."

Somehow, she managed to produce a clipboard from out of nowhere. She hands it to me, pen and a stack of papers thirty sheets thick accompanying it. "I want this all filled out by the time I come here, understand? Oh, what am I saying? Of course you do."

With that, she turns around and walks back the way we came.

Fuck my life.

"MUCH SELF PITYYYYYYYYYYYYYYYYYYYYYYYYYYYYYYYYYYYYYYYYYYYYYY!"

Oh, shut up.