"Can you fucking believe that I won? There was like 400 people in the ring, trying to kill me. But Mike was there like a fucking boss, and he threw sheep at everyone to get them off of me. It was intense, and I think I may have shat myself. Don't judge me for shitting myself, it's how I regulate my body temperature, you wouldn't understand. And because you wouldn't understand you paint me as a villain and monster, this is exactly how Frankenstein's friend Edgar felt! Look, we've gotten off, now let's move to a better subject. One that doesn't include King Bin shooting me with a rifle after my hard fought win, because that happened, and you all missed it. That's right, the owner of the company shot in the dick because he hates that I beat the entire roster. It's not my fault Mike makes me powerful, and I'm unbeatable. Much like my dick after King Tuna shot it. Do you hear me XWF Universe? I CANNOT masturbate anymore, and that really jingles my eggs. I wanted to masturbate today, but instead I have to get diabetes.

That's why I'm going to win the bombshell title, because I'm the best. After I beat the current universal champion, D.A. James, I'm going to get my shot for the bombshell title. It's the only title that I beaten the current champion. Of course, my true place is as I am now, the tag team champions with Mike. And no one will be taking the title from us, Mike is unbeatable, and by God if he isn't the best cheerleader ever. Did you see him cheering for me when that gauntlet match? He clapped and cheered, and hissed. He is the king of cheering, and through Mike all things are possible. Allow us to take time to pray to Mike for a moment.

Dragon Bagon, Bacon and Lacon. Whamma Bama chicken. Soup. Eggs go in, and out of the anus. Cookie dough is good for me. All praise be unto Mike and unto cooking pans. For Oswald Sephtis is a punk ass donut fucker. That is right, my babies, he literally sticks his microcock into donuts and thrusts until his underachieving peter puffs out a cloud of disappointment. Amen.

Now, let's talk about Detective Albert James, or as he goes by DA James, who I guess I'm supposed to beat this week. Which isn't new, since the XWF management just keeps lining up easy targets for me to knock down. They apparently want to prove that I'm king of the ring, slowly. Which is all well and good, but let's face it, I'm getting bored of facing all of these whack ass opponents, even if I keep getting put in matches where it's 300 of them versus me. It could be a million of these losers versus me, and I'd still win, and be bored. Even with a shot dick. I need a real challenge. I want Jenny Myst for her title. DA, you hear that? You're a stepping stone for me to move on to bigger and better things, and you're going to keep hanging out down low, like you hung a rope from my big tow. Because my big toe is definitely big enough for you to hang from. You fucking joke of a chicken sandwich. I fucking eat you! I EAT YOU!! You are less than a can of Tuna, if I'm being completely honest, and I don't have a reason to lie. You cannot step to this, and if you could, you'd be a granddad by now, but you're no granddad, sir. And neither is my butthole. Don't make me double check that! Get out of here, and smell your own feet.

I wipe my ass and get up from the toilet. Mike is taking a bath in the sink, so I can't wash my hands there, instead I flush the toilet and walk into the living room. You cannot disrupt Mike in his bath time, that's rude as fuck. Just look at him.



The family whose house I'm in is sitting on the floor nice and tight, they're crying, but it's ok. I assure them of this.

"It's ok, Brittany, and Joe. I just had to poop. As soon as Mike is done with his bath, we'll be out of your hair. I'm sorry about this. How's your day been?"

The man of the house, I think his name is Paul, is trying to say something, but he can't because of the gag. I would laugh, but I forgot about that, and now I have to pee.

"Sorry about that, Frank. I just can't risk you deafening Mike by screaming. He's very sensitive. Do you promise not to scream and deafen Mike?"

Jack nods, and I take his gag out.

"Why did you do this to us?"

"I didn't, I found you like this. I came in to poop, and you guys were here tied up, and your door was kicked in."

"So, you found us like this, knocked out, and pooped? Instead of calling the cops?"

"Yeah, I really had to poop. What would you have wanted me to do?"

"Call the cops?"

"I can't, I dropped my phone in the toilet. And there's poo in them waters. Do you have a phone I can use?"

"Probably not if I'm burglarized. Go ask the neighbor."

I walk off, leaving Mike in the house with the strangers, and try and find the neighbors. Unfortunately, I ended up in Dairy Queen three towns over. I'm not sure how this happened, but it did. Upon realizing my mistake, of course, I took the only rational course of action. I ordered a DQ Blizzard, and enjoyed it, before heading back to the house. This time I managed to get it right, and also brought a dog named Spud.

"I'm back, and I brought the dog you wanted."

Well, that's rude, James and his wife Marsha were gone, and they left Mike alone in the sink, he'll probably get all pruney now. Fuck them, I went to get him out of the sink, and found him looking at me with disappointment in his eyes.

"I'm sorry, baby. They were supposed to watch you, but I don't know where they went. Come on, let's go get you some worms. Maybe they have some in the fridge. Or at least lettuce."

Mike jumps up and lands on my shoulder, and begins to lick my helmet. It tickles. We walk to the kitchen and check their fridge, but the only think in the fridge were Peter and June's severed heads. How fucking rude do you have to be to put your own damn head in the refrigerator? Fucking assholes.