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Wyatt Reynolds · (11-27-2013)

Throughout the annals of history, it has been proven beyond a shadow of doubt that weakness breeds weakness. This world is littered with those that are weak. Far outnumberin' those that are strong. It is a sad fact, but a true fact nonetheless.

That is why I take it upon myself, and others like me, includin' a few friends and acquaintances, take it upon themselves, either singularly, or as a single cohesive unit, to eliminate the weak, one by one. Or, in some cases, dozens at a time.

This Wednesday night, Wyatt Reynolds makes his pay per view debut for the Xtreme Wrestlin' Federation. I hope my father and grandfather look down from the heavens with pride. As much pride as I had when I looked up to the heavens on this “somber” half-century anniversary of an event my grandfather never took credit for. More on that at another time.

I find it somewhat thrillin' to stand inside of a cage made up of approximately two miles of thick, heavy steel chain in order to achieve success. Success, although not particularly easy, will most certainly be achieved at Lethal Lottery. The man everyone doubted and laughed at when he first arrived here a number of weeks ago, will walk out with the Xtreme title firmly within his grasp.

In my short time here I've proved beyond a shadow of a doubt, that I am a major player. I'm sure to have moments when I come up short, but I will come back stronger every time. If Wyatt Reynolds gets put down, I will most assuredly come back and you can bet every last penny you have that I will make any and all of you regret the day you laughed at me. I will make you all regret the day you looked at Wyatt Reynolds as some backwoods southern redneck hillbilly, when I've proven time and again that I am anythin' but.

I'm an extremely dangerous man with a vendetta against society and you all will learn that as time marches on here in the XWF.

Wednesday night I have the distinct pleasure, if you want to call it that, of walkin' into a match with the single biggest collection of weakness I have seen in one wrestlin' ring in all my years as a fan, as well as my short time as a competitor.

You have a man like Payback. I hesitate to even call him a man, seein' as how he has yet to complete one coherent sentence in all the time I've seen him. His claims that Wyatt Reynolds is in some Hollywood film called “How to Torch a Nigga” or somethin' like that.

I can ensure you that his claims are completely false and untrue. I'm not sure how he could convince anyone that who he had in the role of Wyatt Reynolds is me, THE real Wyatt Reynolds. If Payback would like to know how to actually torch a nigga then I'd be glad to give him a true example at Lethal Lottery. Seein' as how I don't limit myself to only exterminatin' niggas, I'd be glad to show him how its done and extinguish his wretched soul from this Earth permanently.

You're undoubtedly pokin' the sleepin' grizzly with a giant stick, Payback. Of course, in ways totally unlike the way you depicted in your little low rent film preview. You now have an undeniable target on your back, son. If you know the Reynolds family history and targets within the cross hairs, Payback, that is not a place you'd want to be.

Of course, Payback is only but one feeble minded man. Their are still four more to cover.

Andrew Morrison is without a doubt a walkin' definition of weakness. This weak man now would like to basically denounce his relationship with God because God wouldn't do his work for him. Mr. Morrison blames God for his own weaknesses and failures which is in and of itself the definition bein' exactly that. A weak failure.

He likes to blame God for takin' his mother when I'm sure everyone in the neighborhood took her, too. He blames God for his father bein' an abusive alcoholic or somethin' to that effect, who beat on him numerous times.

Blamin' God for what you've gone through in life, and your inability to counter those events, is weakness, Mr. Morrison. Allow me to take this opportunity to give you a single solitary lesson in strength. The strong man takes his beatin's when they come. The strong man continues to take these beatin's while getting' stronger, physically, emotionally and mentally, each and every time. The strong man waits for the golden opportunity to put that bastard down once and for all.

Had I been in your shoes, Mr. Morrison, I would have picked my moment and burned the mother fucker to the ground. I would have watched him breathe his final breaths. I would have basked in the glow of his flames. I would have gotten high off the intoxicatin' smell of his burnin' flesh.

That's strength, Mr. Morrison. Somethin' you obviously lack and the primary reason you will not win Wednesday night.

Hunter Payne, the great wetback of his own generation. He's had moderate success and there's nothin' wrong with that if you don't mind bein' average. I'm not average. I'm greatness waitin' in the wings. The wetback exemplifies weakness by previously allowin' a walkin' vagina to force him into situations where a win is unattainable.

I don't have much to say about Hunter Payne, because let's face it ladies and gentlemen, he's a wetback and we all know that the only good wetback is a dead one. I refuse to expel much of my energy on this piece of shit that was undoubtedly grand fathered in as a United States citizen. If you don't know what that means, then I suggest you try google, because I do not have the time to explain everythin' to you. Nor do I want to.

Had I been in Hunter Payne's shoes – and I wouldn't, I would have used Matt Lennox's decapitated head as a batterin' ram and beat Joy's skull in. That's the stark contrast between the two of us. Hunter Payne is a walkin' doormat, while I do what I do, and walk on said doormats.

One of my opponents that I'm most familiar with is Mr. Steve Davids. The man that I was seconds away from carryin' to the main event of Lethal Lottery. A fact that became quite clear as I watched his promos for the night we teamed together. A fact that I could not allow to come to fruition. In good conscience, I could not allow myself to obtain victory while bringin' him along for the ride.

The man has quite a few screws loose within his skull that tells the obvious truth. The House of Davids is not unlike the House of Usher. Mr. Davids undoubtedly has a family tree that goes straight up and has no branches. God is obviously punishin' Mr. Davids for the fact that his mother and father are most likely brother and sister. That is the only conceivable explanation for his severe mental defect.

This mental defect of his proved to be our undoin' on Warfare. I wanted nothin' more than to win and go to the main event of Lethal Lottery but I could not bring myself to win that match and bring weakness into a potential spot reserved for the strong.

Steve Davids is no doubt a physically gifted man. However, his mental and physical inferiority brings him down and will ultimately lead to his downfall Wednesday night. Somewhere in the world is a giant hole in the ground that will one day become a mass grave for the weak. Steve Davids may just find himself within it.

It is now my pleasure to touch upon the champion of all our hearts. Mr. Peter Gilmour. I must admit I was slightly incorrect on my assumption of him. I am slightly impressed with his determination and his true grit as a competitor. Comin' through in the clutch to win his eleventh Xtreme title.

Of course, the fact remains that the men he defeated in order to behold the prize are men that are below average in their skills. The fact remains, that Peter Gilmour barely came out victorious. The fact remains, that it makes Peter Gilmour slightly above below average.

Average doesn't get the job done all the time, Gilmour. You're certainly goin' to find that out at Lethal Lottery. I somehow think that you're okay with that. Bein' average. You're cliched “we meet again” crap is already old and it might be the first time I've even heard you say it. In fairness, every time I hear you speak I want to do nothin' but dig my eyes out with a spork and drive railroad spikes into my ears.

Just.

Stop.

Talkin'.

Peter Gilmour, you're goin' into your first title defense as Xtreme champion, and I promise you it will also be your last. I'm comin' to Lethal Lottery and I'm not comin' to go home a loser. Gilmour, your time is up. It's been up for a long time. You just don't have it anymore and what's more is, you never had it to begin with.

After your eventual defeat on Wednesday night, perhaps you should retire your mediocre career and go home. Go home and settle down into your mediocre life. Mr. Average, you are and always will be a weak failure. You holdin' that title for me proves nothin' to anyone.

With God as my witness, Peter Gilmour will not walk out of Lethal Lottery with the Xtreme title. I am a devout Christian, and devoted to God. However, I do not turn to God for strength. In fact, it is He, that turns to me for strength. It is He that turns to me for help. In God we trust? No. Not even for a second.

In Wyatt we trust.

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