Tampa, Florida
Tuesday, June 12, 2018
7:48pm Eastern Standard Time

The sun has slowly begun to make it descent into the Gulf of Mexico along the coast of Tampa, Fl. As the camera pans out, we see patrons walking around Ballast Point Park as the sun reflects off of the calm waters in the distance. Pest sits on a bench of a picnic table flanked by two large trees next to a boat ramp. He leans forward placing his forearms on his tight as he stares off into the distance.

Couple of months ago I was in a position to go one on one with Tampa’s favorite son, Chris Chaos for the Television Championship. The night before I sat in the empty arena at Universal and I confidently cut a promo letting Chaos know exactly what my intentions were. As I look back at the lead up to that match, it appeared as if I was calm and confident the whole way. Truth is…I couldn’t have been more of a nervous wreck. After I cut that last promo, I sat in that arena and worried. My heart raced, my hands shook, my mind went in a million different directions at once.

It wasn’t because I was scared of Chris Chaos. It was because I had put so much pressure on myself to be a champion. It was all I had come to this company for; all that was missing from my life.

Pest chuckles as he continues.

But it’s funny how time changes things, cause here I sit a little over 24-hours away from another shot at something that was so important to me and I feel the calmest I’ve ever felt in my life. There’s no “What if’s” racing through my head. There’s no second guessing my game plan. There’s just an eerie calm that seems to have rushed over me. And you know what….

Pest smiles.

I like it. You know what else I like…

I like the fact that Robert Main is walking around this city, right now as I speak, thinking that he’s not in any danger. I like the fact that he actually thinks in his heart of hearts that I pose zero threat to him. It kinda excites me, to be honest. Cause it’s gonna just make it that more enjoyable knocking his dumb ass off of his high horse.

Pest pauses for a second, soaking in his surroundings.

I’ll be honest…I was a little disappointed going so long without hearing a response from our Hart champion. I thought, “How ironic…the Hart Champion displaying zero heart!” Figured that we were falling back into having to play “Where in the world is bitch ass Robert Main at?” I was expecting Greg Lee and “The Chief” to lead us on a geographical adventure accompanied by the soothing sounds of “Rockapella” singing in the background. (Fifteen cool points if you get the reference)

But thankfully Robert Main decided to grab his balls and show his mayonnaise on wonder bread, fake mountain man, welfare duck dynasty ass face.

Pest begins to slowly clap.

Thank you oh gracious and omnipotent Hart Champion for gracing us with your presence…we are truly not worthy.

Clapping stops.

But here’s the problem though…everything that has come out of your mouth is complete utter fake ass bullshit.

The only thing I’ll give you is this…you truly do walk around with the swag that is required to be a top guy around here. But anything past that…

Fucking garbage.

Like…I listen to you talk and I wonder who you’re trying to convince. It damn sure aint me….it damn sure aint anybody that works for this company…so it’s got to be you.

I mean, come on…”A creator and a destroyer” how fucking lame can one man be. They only thing you create is the smoke that you are blowing up peoples asses. The only thing you destroy is brain cells when people have to listen your bullshit.

Take for instance this so called “Chris Chaos Effect” nonsense. You’re trying to tell me that I’m walking around bitching, complaining, making excuses…and some other dumb ass shit. And honestly, none of it even remotely applies to me.

Let’s discuss this…

With the exception of the one match were the ref fucked up, I’ve owned EVERY loss that I’ve had in the ring. Hell, my beef with this company really has nothing to do with what happens inside those ropes.

Backstage politics…Yeah, I’ve got an issue with that.

Being used to push some kind of false narrative…yeah, I’m mad about that.

But getting beat by someone who on that night was better than me…you’ll never hear me bitch about that.

See, you got the game fucked up, pimpin. You out here assuming shit without having your facts straight.

And in regards to my ability in the ring…

Pest chuckles.

You can down play me all you want, tell everyone I suck. But once you get your ass kicked you are gonna have to explain to everyone why you got fucked up by someone who sooooo beneath you. In the end it just makes you look like a dumb ass.

It’s sad really cause you could have taken a different approach and talked about how much unpolished talent I had. How I’m a new comer with potential to be great. Chaos did it…Mandii did it. And when I came within inches of beating them, afterwards they were both able to say, “See, I told you he got something special!” In your case…You’ll just have been bested by someone you claim is a bum…which makes you less than a bum.

But you’re not that smart…we all know it. You’re just reaffirming our beliefs.

Pest puts his finger to his head remembering something.

Oh…I just remembered about your little challenge.

So let me make sure I understand this correctly. Your Hart Championship against my shot at Engineer? Trying to create an “All In” moment, are we? Issue a challenge that “backs me in a corner” and “tests my manhood?”

Pest puts his head back and laughs out loud before instantly stopping with a serious look.

No.

Let me explain something to you. I don’t have to prove a fucking thing to you. If you wanted a shot at Engineer you should have brought your bitch ass to the battle royal and threw me out the ring.

You said yourself that you don’t need a second chance…and you aint getting one from me. Call me a punk ass bitch if you will, but you gotta put your own work in around here.

So take your challenge and stick it as far up your ass as you finger will fit. Cause I aint doing it. I’m not stupid and I’m not gonna allow myself to be easily manipulated. Sorry to disappoint you, but I’m sure you’ll get over it.

Robert, over the course of the past few days, you’ve said a lot of things. Most of them where as fuck. Lot of empty threats; lot of things that sets you up to look like you suck after you get beat by a simpleminded, under-educated, deadbeat underdog beating, layup, unproblematic, piece of cake, muthafucka like me.

And I’m gonna make you eat those words.

How?

I’ll tell you:

I’m gonna show up at the Amalie Arena, and I’m gonna destroy you. I’m gonna break you down piece by piece until you are barely recognizable. And I’m gonna remove you from XWF so we don’t have to worry about hearing your bullshit anymore. I’m gonna take that title and I’m gonna carry it around as a prize. That title will forever represent your downfall. That one time when you got beat by a “Wanna be, Johnny come lately, Flavor of the month.”

“Hey, whatever happened to Robert Mai…”

“Fuck Robert Main, he got beat by a nobody!”

That’s all anyone’s gonna have to say about you after our match.

Don’t be mad at me…You did this to yourself.

I’m just that nobody that’s about to be somebody due to kickin your fuckin ass.

Holla at cha later bitch!