Detectives and Defectives

The previous hours alone in this room seem welcoming now compared to this shit. It's not a difficult concept here -- how are they not understanding this? Me: "I'm telling you both for the last time; I have no idea what could have happened to your female companion, detectives." Needless to say, the camera can't manage to get a decent shot of my face even though we all supposedly know who I am -- right Duke? Let's just continue to trust that I'm Sid Feder. I'm pretty sure even these detectives believe it, so it must be true. Unfortunately they also believe in wasting a lot of my precious time but who am I to complain? First they keep me locked in an empty interrogation room for what felt like several hours, and now they bring in a table and chair so they can grill me about the same bullshit I already answered earlier? If they insisted on bringing a table in, they could have at least brought a deck of cards too. Sick bastards. The larger of the two detectives slams his hand down on the table and picks up my blood stained hockey mask -- the same one Sebastian Duke has taken a liking to. ((yes, Sebastian -- blood stained hockey mask is blood stained. Idiot.)) Detective Maloney: "And why did multiple witnesses report seeing some freak with this blood stained mask talking to her the last time she was seen two nights ago?" There's blood on that mask? I never knew. Keeping the slight amusement to myself, I shrug and offer them the sweaty palms of my open hands to show them just how clueless I am of such a thing. It's also one of the few gestures I can make considering I am handcuffed like some sort of criminal, which is just plain ludicrous. Me: "Maybe she was talking to some other guy on the streets of Queens who fancies wearing masks? I can't possibly be the only one now, can I?" The smaller, more rational of the two detectives looks me right in the eye and takes a puff from his Newport -- awwwww, Sebastian would be so proud. ((because Sebastian was enough to suggest I should be smoking Newports instead of Kools; as if that's going to help his promo quality -- and yes, I had to fill you in on this because you guys probably missed him saying it)) Detective Rothberg: "Look, Mr. Feder -- This may be Queens we're talking about but there aren't exactly an abundance of guys who go around with a blood stained hockey mask." I adjust myself in my chair as best I can and I let the detective know the first thing that comes to mind when he says that. Me: "You shouldn't be mentioning that it's blood stained when that already was established once here tonight by your partner. Sebastian Duke would be very displeased with you, sir. You wouldn't want him trying to act the role of a decent shit-talker and calling you up to tell you that you shouldn't mention the blood more than once, would you?" Rothberg cocks his head and looks at me like I just said the most thing on the planet while Maloney throws my hockey mask across the room. He slams both of his hands down on the table and gets right up in my face now. Maloney: "And just who in the FUCK is Sebastian Duke and what the hell does he have to do with anything relevant?" I can't help it -- I smirk and look off to the side for a second as I think of the irony here. If I had a dead whore for every single time I've heard, or will hear, that question. I quickly snap out of it and look back at Detective Maloney, point blank in his eyes. Me: "Well I could explain what I meant but it would only make your head hurt, and then you'd ask your partner here to leave the room so you could beat the shit out of me for wasting so much of your time on complete garbage that resembles a Saturday morning cartoon. So, with that said I'll just CUT to the chase like I like to do and-" If only you two bitches knew how much I like to cut. Me: "-remind both of you that I can't possibly help you find this missing cop and I extend my deepest condolences if you happen to find her dead in a ditch somewhere with her innards spilling out." Maloney stands straight and clenches his fists while Rothberg puts out his Newport in frustration. Perhaps I did not choose the best phrasing just now after all. Too bad I don't give a fuck. Me: "Oh you're done with that Newport before it's completely smoked down? Can I take the rest of that and give it to my friend Sebas- oh you know what, nevermind -- I forgot you guys haven't heard of him so you won't get the joke." Maloney: "The joke? The joke! You think this is a time for jokes?" Rothberg: "You actually think this is all fun and games, don't you Mr. Feder?" Of course I do. How could I not? Me: "Of course I don't. How could I?" Detective Rothberg slowly backs his chair up and gives his partner "the look" -- it means I've just been left at Detective Maloney's mercy as Rothberg makes his way toward the exit and shuts the door behind him. There is a brief moment of complete silence as I lean back in my chair and simply cup my hands together in front of me on the table as that single light bulb sways gently above my head; back and forth, back and forth, back and- -click. Complete blackness now. If Detective Maloney has shut off the light, I may as well just close my eyes and take myself to another place for the next few minutes. I already know what's about to happen here: 1) I'm going to be struck -- hard -- and the best part about it is I won't see it coming. 2) I'm going to be either knocked out of this chair or lifted out of it by my collar. 3) I'll probably be punched in the stomach a few times and then slammed up against the wall; this will be around the time he tells me I better talk. 4) I will talk alright, but it won't be what Maloney wants to hear. 5) I'll get punched in the face or kneed in the groin for not spitting out the words he was hoping for. 6) I'll be yanked away from the wall and thrown over the table or slammed into the opposite wall. 7) He'll ask me again what I've done with that female cop as he either steps on my throat or chokes me with his bare hands, so that I have a hard time even forming any words at all and have to beg him to let me speak. Yup -- it'll be around seven steps here and the most amazing part about it is I've played this game before. The end result is me walking out of this room, still alive, and I know that. It doesn't matter what he does to me in the confines of this darkness. I wait. He's dragging the waiting period out a little longer than I'd expected -- building the anticipation -- I like that. About ten seconds later I hear a very familiar clicking sound and I feel the cold steel of a gun's barrel pressed against my left cheek. Oh, impressive; he's taking the more fun approach. I keep my eyes closed even with the darkness surrounding me. It helps me to reinforce that I'm the one in ultimate control here and as long as I'm aware of that, nothing else matters. Maloney: "Listen here you shit stain -- I'll pull this trigger and say you went for my gun in the dark and I had no other choice. Guess what will happen? I'll get a verbal scolding by my superior and you'll get a body bag. I'll go on with my life and keep my job while you'll be buried and forgotten." Does he really think that's the way to find his missing cop friend? Maloney: "I'm going to give you one last chance to talk or I'm going to splatter your brains all over the wall behind you without a second thought. I am so sick and tired of your kind; thinking you can sit here and just wait this thing out because we don't have enough evidence. Well I'm not the type to let that shit slide and I'll be glad to take you out of this world if I get the impression that you're about to walk out of here and harm another human being. I'm not stupid and I wasn't born yesterday; we've got eye witnesses placing you at the scene of her disappearance and we've got footage from the XWF that everyone saw crystal clear. It was you, Feder. You were leaned up against that brick wall and Officer Patterson approached you due to a complaint about some creep scaring people in the area with a fucking mask on." He presses the cold hard steel deeper into my face. I just keep my eyes closed as I'm more fascinated than anything else by this interesting turn of events. I couldn't be more thrilled that he's decided to take this in a direction I didn't see coming. Maloney: "Now I want you to tell me exactly what happened after that footage cut off and I don't want you to leave out a single detail, or lord help me I will pull this trigger and end your miserable existence." Eh, no you won't. I may know better but that doesn't mean I won't play along with him. Me: "Please don't kill me. I'll tell you everything that you want to know." I keep my eyes closed as I try to relive the moment in my head so that I may describe it in all its beauty. I'm going to give Detective Maloney exactly what he wants -- the truth. -- ToBeContinued --

The perfect partner indeed
I can't believe I'm about to say this, Sebastian Duke, but you've made the wisest decision you could have ever made in regards to who you chose as a partner. I mean, at first I thought you had found some deranged crack fiend off the streets and dressed him in a robe but now it has come out that the bumbling buffoon under that garb was actually the bumbling buffoon we all know and love as Mr. XWF.

I just can't say it enough -- Mr. XWF and Sebastian Duke -- Together at last.

It's perfection.

It's satisfaction.

It's completion.

You've somehow managed to pair yourself with the one man who has spent his entire career doing just one thing, and one thing only. Winning championships? Nope. Going undefeated? Nope. Main eventing huge events and drawing fans from every corner of the globe? Nope. Impressing people with his innovative offense and creative move set? Nope. Oh, but he talks about Peter Gilmour all the time though so I'm sure that will help you out a lot when he recycles the same bullshit we've been hearing for a year straight now. I bet Gilmour could beat this fucking loser in his sleep because there's not a single thing he could say or do that would be new to Peter at this point.

To be fair though, we have to at least give him some credit for the other thing he's known for besides talking about Peter Gilmour in every promo. You see -- your newly chosen partner might not win titles very often (unless you count the E1999 title which he wins often due to losing it later the same day, every time), he might not ever get any winning streaks going, he might not main event very much or draw many fans, he might not have a unique bone in his body or a single move he thought up himself -- but! -- at least he always talks about his penis.

...

The moment of hesitation in which you heard crickets chirping was actually me being knocked back and having to catch my breath by how hard hitting his penis-talk really is. He hasn't even released his first official promo this week "as" Mr. XWF himself and his hard hitting penis words are already knocking me back and leaving me gasping for air. Boy, Sebastian, you really sucker punched me and Gilmour hard in the gut with this revelation. I might as well just lay my ass on the mat and let you guys pin me on Saturday because there's not a damn thing I can do to stop a man who wears a purple body suit and has on the Shockmaster's mask.

Remember Shockmaster? Here is another look at him just in case you forgot-



-and that right there is the perfect example of what you have as a partner. In fact I think it's safe to say you'd be better off with that clumsy oaf as your partner because at lest he gets back up after he falls. What's Mr. XWF going to do when he falls flat on his face and his helmet tumbles away from him? He's going to get curb stomped by either myself or Peter Gilmour and the chunks of his skull and brain will go flying into the faces of those unfortunate fans in the front row. Mr. XWF might be just the guy you need if you're looking to be supplied with dildos and anal beads -- as evident at the end of your last promo where Mr. XWF gives you dildos and anal beads -- but don't you think you should have found a partner who knows where the fuck he is at any given time? Let's play a clip from the end of that disaster we all recently saw on XWF programming and see what I'm talking about-

Quote:Mr. XWF opens the bags and pours out a bunch of dildos, vibrators, rubber fists, rubber pussies, rubber tits, condoms, jars of lube, anal beads, cock rings, and a picture of Rose Smith with a dick drawn on her face.

Mr. XWF: "I hit the jackpot! I've won more than I could have ever hoped for and I'm gonna share this shit with both of you! YOU BEST BELIEEEEEEVE WHEN WE GET BACK TO OUR ROOMS WE'RE GONNA BE PARTYING LIKE TRUE PIMPS UP IN THIS BITCH! IF YAAAHHH SUH-MEEEEEEEEEEEELLLLL-LA-LA-LA-LA-LA-LA-LAAAOOOOWWWWWWW.......................... ROSE SMITH'S STANK ASS GRAND CANYON OF A PUSSY ALLLLLLLLLLLLLLL THE WAY OUT HERE IN ATLANTA BABY!!!!!"

SD: "Atlanta? We're in Atlantic City."

Talk about hitting a jackpot! You'd think you dumb fucks would have been smart enough to edit that out of the final production before it went live, but no that would be too much to ask I guess because you losers insist on digging your own graves just as I've pointed out earlier in the week. Nice collection of toys you and Mr. XWF had there; and people wonder why all of a sudden your verbal offense has shifted to being heavily based on gay jokes? I'll get to that in a second but how in the fuck is Mr. XWF thinking he's in Atlanta when he's in Atlantic City? He might as well be in the Lost City of Atlantis at this point because it's clear that wherever his body is, his pea sized brain certainly is not, and that's going to hurt you when you guys are standing in the ring and he's thinking he's in the porta-potty or some stupid shit like that. Great job, Sebastian. Good find you have there.

Now let's get back to what I eluded to when I mentioned how your verbal offense -- if you can call it offense -- has suddenly become primarily gay-based. Let's go ahead and roll some clips here-

Quote:"I bet I know what turns you on the most 'Sid.' It's your secret desire to wish it was you that had Griffin MacAlisters dick in your mouth."

"Wait. White delicious what? Yeah, that's what I thought, 'Sid'."

"You seem very thrilled to talk about MacAlisters sex life. One can only think that you really do have much affection for him."

"No doubt you were rambling pretty rapid fire in order to get to your real point. Wishing it was you, yourself, swallowing Griffins load."

Yeah, clearly I'm the one obsessed with Griffin's load; because I'm the one who was engaged to a woman who took his load and I'm the one who keeps bringing it up. Sure thing, Einstein. All I did was reference the truth about her having served him, and most likely having served me too if we want to be honest, but somehow you twist it into the bullshit we just heard a second ago? So that's four different occasions you had to bring up points that are of a homosexual nature. Who do you think you are? Mr. XWF?

Oh, wait. I see what's happening here-

Your own verbal and mental arsenal is so nonexistent that as soon as you found a partner who knew how to crack jokes instead of make valid points, you had to jump right on the bandwagon and start doing the same. You guys literally just got around to meeting this week according to that earlier promo I had the displeasure of viewing and already you're replacing your own bland insults with even worse, gay variations that hit just as softly? I shudder to think what your next set of trash talk is going to be like -- gay this; suck that; blow them; white juicy what; cum in my secret asshole like my 150 brothers do every night. Give it a rest, fuck face, WE GET IT; you've got no material of your own that would stop a fly, so when pitted against the greatest challenge of your life you have no choice but to scramble and try what your 12 year old partner has been using all along. Don't you think it would have been smarter to let him cover the pointless gay antics department while you, I don't know, try and do something else? Not sure what that something else would be since you fail in all categories that involve speaking, but hey, at least you could be trying here. What's next? Am I going to log onto the internet and find that you've changed your finishing move to a Rock Bottom? Except to stay "creative" you'll call it a Cock Bottom so it sounds even more faggish than your partner's move? Give me a break.

Oh yeah and thanks for the compliment earlier.

Oh? Not sure what I mean?

Well when you started playing random clips and trying to dissect things I had previously said, you claimed you were taking a page out of my book! Thanks!

Ehem....hey dip shit? You do know that I didn't invent the strategy of actually watching a promo and then talking about what was said within it, right? I didn't write that book but I'm going to guess it's a new frontier for you so I both congratulate and thank you: one, for finally trying something new (to you) and two, for giving me credit for something that successful competitors have been doing since the beginning of time. Here's the problem though -- you saw me painting a masterpiece on a canvas, and all you did was grab some watercolors and slap them on a random wall. Anyone who watches you try to directly "combat" quotes of mine is going to know exactly what you're trying to do and they're going to cringe as they realize what a godawful disaster you're presenting them. Please stop while you're ahead -- oh, wait; can't do that -- you're already so far fucking behind that my rear view mirror has lost you altogether. Shit! There you are slamming the pedal to the metal and hearing the engine ROAR but your dumb fucking ass has been in neutral this whole time. What an ignorant as fuck ... worthless ass dip shit ... little trash-talking wannabe. Catch all that?

Get the fuck out of my face right now before I rip your eyes out and shove them down your throat so you can finally see how much worthless shit you've been regurgitating all along. Maybe then it will stop before it makes its way out in front of a camera and is forever recorded in history.

In case you've missed it; that's your cue to talk more shit and give us all an even better laugh than you've managed to do up till now -- puppet. Don't forget to make sure and tell me how you're not doing it because I told you to, though; even with you directly referencing things I've said here today in the process. Sigh, mother fucker. Yeah that's me saying the word sigh aloud in anticipation for what I'll be physically doing when your mentally crippled ass tries to go toe to toe with me again verbally.

As for me? Next time we hear from me I'll be going over some very interesting Sebastian Duke statistics for everybody. I was just going over your history and realized something very enlightening about your XWF career and I just can't wait to share it with the world, just like Linn has shared both sets of her lips with all the world.