Oh, we are most certainly NOT done here!

Wow, D's got blowjob jokes and "hurr durr who are you?" clapbacks. Such bold new horizons of trash talk originality. So fresh, so new! I can see why you've gotten as far as you have.

First off, I most certainly did not win my championships by sucking dick. I won both my championships by exposing myself to a substantial Herpes outbreak risk when I pinned Jenny Myst. But did I get any thanks for throwing my personal safety under the bus and ending those dumpster fire title reigns? NO! You have zero appreciation for my SACRIFICE!

Hunty make no mistake, you interact with a jobber every time you give yourself a pathetic teary eyed pep talk in the mirror each morning. "I'm Big D and by golly, today is the day I stop being literally EVERYONE's fucking afterthought!" he says as he wipes the snot and tears from his face, hoping that nobody heard his one millionth bitch made break down in the locker room. Oh yes Big D, I'm so certain that one day you'll earn that seat at the big kid's table and stop having to slum it up in the 24/7 hallways, eking out a callow subsistence on the lowest tier titles in the company and pretending that winning them makes you worth a shit. You wanna know why I'm bothering with winning this piece of shit from you? Because I want to make you SAD. I want to put you in the place you BELONG: which is NOWHERE with NOTHING. Way to completely miss the point I was making when I said you SHOULD be able to beat Lux and Santos. Emphasis on SHOULD. Because despite being chiseled like Michelangelo's (the artist, not the ninja turtle you NOB) latest Davidian wank fantasy you have shown a complete INABILITY to accomplish ANYTHING. You have genetic gifts most people could only dream of, and yet your sheer bumbling incompetence pisses them all away week after week.

Maybe if you had bothered to rub your last two brain cells together you would have remembered that I was The Engineer's manager. Yes, THAT Engineer. I wrangled that psychotic moron to two of the longest championship reigns of all time. And even though present day "me" wouldn't spit on that cancer ridden fucker if he was burning, the fact is that I have come closer to touching greatness than you EVER will. The fact is that every major opportunity you have gotten: a TV title match with Lux, a shot at Leap of Faith, a championship match against Robert Main....you have FAILED. Every. Single. One. And hell, let's talk about how you got that shot against Robert Main, shall we? Yeah, your team won War Games, but only because management threw you a life line and replaced one of your godawful picks with the head of the company. That victory had absolutely nothing to do with YOU and everything to do with Sarah Lacklan and Vincent Lane. You failed upwards into playing that match on easy mode, sweety.

**Deep intake of air** SIDE BAR! You think I'm a poor man's Sarah Lacklan? Go back to eating paste you pit sniffing autist. I was winning championships in multiple promotions when that pasty cooze was still an awkward pre-teen wondering why she had a sudden hankering for clams. I was a Fox News star before that chocolate craving race traitor hopped aboard the Trump gravy train after he had already won the presidency. So fuck right off with that shit.

I may have mostly hung up my boots now, but before I even set foot in the XWF I had already won 10 championships in multiple different promotions. I mean, can you even COUNT to 10 without including the backyard fed you wrestled in with all the other kids in your 6:1:1 class? No, you can't. Ipso facto, my "can't even throw a punch to save my life" ass is still more accomplished than YOU. Somehow. Let that level of pathetic ineptitude sink in. And just a heads up, I have multiple high caliber firearms at my disposal for when you finally take your soul crushing insight into your complete mediocrity to it's natural conclusion.

You were right about one thing though. I forgot a pin!

Madison's goes to kick Big D in the junk, but he is strangely unphased. Madison quirks an eye brow, and then smirks remembering that his testicles are roughly the size of two peas in a pod, so she just opts for gouging him in the eyes with her nails and forcing him to the ground. An effort which takes very little strength or fortitude given the fact that D is jacked for show and not go.

1...

2....

can we just call it a 3?