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**03-12-2013, 10:09 PM**

WARNING: AS A FAMILY FRIENDLY SHOW, XWF'S WEDNESDAY NIGHT WARFARE, IN ASSOCIATION WITH WITASTICK ENTERTAINMENT, DOES NOT CONDONE MARK FLYNN OR HIS NON-FAMILY FRIENDLY ORIENTED BEHAVIOR ON ITS PROGRAMMING.

HOWEVER, IF YOU WOULD LIKE TO USE THE ADVERTISING SPACE PROVIDED BY MARK FLYNN’S UNACCEPTABLE BEHAVIOR, PLEASE DIRECTLY CONTACT WALLACE WITASTICK WITH YOUR ADVERTISEMENTS! SPACE IS FILLING QUICKLY AND CURRENT MARKET VALUE FOR FOUR-LETTER CURSE WORD CENSORSHIP SPACE IS AT $200,000 AMERICAN DOLLARS.

THANK YOU FOR YOUR BUSINESS.

THE FOLLOWING SEGMENT IS RATED TV-Y7.

Hey.

I’m done.

And I don’t mean in an Alex Shawn, ‘I’M TIRED OF BEING A SUB-PAR LOSER’ done.

I mean, I’m done talking to rookies. I’m done being a part of this match full of nobodies after I won the Main Event

I’m done being mistreated by the brainless morons that run this company. As the XWF’s true champion. As the #1 superstar in this company.

And that’s right. Mark.

F(ROOTY POOFY POOFS, MADE WITH SEMI-NATURAL ARTIFICIAL FLAVOR)ing.

Flynn.

Best in the world. Like I’ve been saying since July.

As the #1 around here, I'm out of patience with trashing these bottom feeders who don't even have the decency to throw a word back...

I’m done dealing with Knightmask yelling about nothing and switching identities to the pleasure of no one.

I’m tired of World-1 International delivering words the quality of one of Cassius Stonne’s ‘opening salvos’ that proves he could barely beat John Black, let alone a man of my talents.

And I’m through with Chris MacBeth being uninteresting and grappling like a rookie with a bunch of people who couldn’t cut it in the XWF for a day. As if that would for a second give him the skills necessary to beat the United States Champion.

There’s someone around the XWF I want to actually challenge. Someone who deserves a second thought.

Mister Mystery. 8675309 or whatever the f(LIPPING DOLPHINS OF MYANMAR! COME SEE THE BIGGEST SHOW OF THE SEASON TRAVELING ACROSS MYANMAR!) your stupid name is.

I don’t really care about you. I don’t care what rejects in the back have staked an interest in you, claiming you’re an unstoppable force.

Honestly, I’m ready for you to disappear back into Hell.

Unless… You can get me in touch with the man you claim to be. The man you don’t seem capable of matching. The man who you play the shadow of on a regular basis.

Get this message out to Sid Feder. Three Times Better Sid Feder. My former tag team partner and co-tag team champion, Sid Feder.

See, somewhere in that thick pathetic skull of yours, is a real man. Somewhere deep down is someone who actually impresses me, which something the big buffoon I pummeled and tossed into that bay in Singapore has yet to do in his latest run to nowhere.

Shove these words so far in your skull, my laughter at your non-existent threats rings in your ears and torments your nightmares as you contemplate your every failure.

Then, maybe the worthwhile foe I want to reach will hear this little late-night dedication.

To Sid Feder:

Hey, pal.

I don’t know if you remember a couple months back. But we had a tag title defense against Peter Gilmour. The one where, eventhough you were there, it felt like you basically forgot to show up and after I single-handedly defended our belts, you let me get ambushed by a couple of goons and watched as our belts were stolen from their rightful owners.

Excuse me, their rightful OWNER.

And was I disappointed to see the man I thought was a valuable tag partner let me down and disappear when our belts were stolen? When I tried to raise complaint, to get us an opportunity to pick our titles back up, alone, was I saddened to feel Sid Feder’s apparent absence?

No more than I was to the fall of one of the greatest talents the XWF had come to offer.

I was ready, Feder. I had been ready.

Believe it or not, I was a fan.

More than anyone, I was ready for you to take Slater’s title right from under his nose and I was ready for you to keep it when the rematch rolled around. I was ready for Sid Feder to do as he promised and shock the world and become the King of the XWF, the XWF Champion, undefeated from day 1 to his crowning as king.

And then… Waiting.

I was forced to just.

Keep.

Waiting.

Week after week. Waiting in Purgatory to see you move. Like a sloth.

Forced to wait as you almost get upset by the likes of Crimson Dong, like that hack Raymond Hatcher before you.

Forced to watch as you dodge weak after weak of real challenges so you can come forward and answer the call to face easy pickings like Benjamin Crane.

Madison may be the lowest of these jokers parading around pretending to run the asylum. But he was right on the money.

Somewhere along the line, you lost it.

You became the coward you were so determined to defeat.

Demanding that Cyren face three opponents?

Spending week after week letting yourself slide with the bare minimum?

And taking on a nobody like Benjamin Crane so you could pick up an easy victory?

Sid Feder died before his maiming at the hands of John Madison.

Sid Feder died before he even lost his first match.

Sid Feder died the second that briefcase entered his hands. Sid Feder died the moment he reached the top of the mountain and had nowhere to go. Right as he was about to enter the gates of heaven and stake his rightful claim over the XWF.

His heart stopped.

So, here comes Mark Flynn.

The Fire Starter.

The Defibrilater.

The man that makes people get better out of sheer unbridled hatred.

To try and wake you up.

You see. I’ve made a habit out of shocking the world awake.

Even though the belt has been rendered a non-entity by higher ups.

I stole the belt no one dares mention from the man no one dares bring up.

I beat the man that everyone was waiting for you to beat in a match where no one wagered a dime on me pulling it out.

The man who killed you? I beat him too. Handily. Multiple times.

Made him tap out once, pinned him a couple times… But I’m getting off topic with just how much better than you I am.

Anyway, your second tour? Fills me with an even greater sense of bitterness.

Imagine my disappointment. Consider my continued disgust. Perceive, if you will, the very revulsion building from the pit of my stomach into the most painful indigestion brought on by under-performance I’ve ever encountered.

When your shambling little manifesto... Your pathetic statement against the ranks of the XWF about how meaningless and short their lives would be now that you had re-entered the scene…

Was longer than one name. Was not a direct notice to me about how it was time to die.

Your words? Indirect and aimless. Almost without plan. Not quite the Sid Feder I grew to enjoy seeing slither through the XWF’s rankings list with ease.

This new creature? A giant Frankenstein monster, comprised of reject parts, smelling like a cadaver still freshly bathed in iodine. A drooling corpse without the true brains it had in life.

Let me try to pass a complex idea through your non-functioning nervous system so it clicks in that sorry excuse for a mind.

I didn’t toss you in that bay because I wanted to kill you.

I threw you into the sea because I wanted to bring you back to life.

Like Neonero did to me… I see the fall from grace you’ve suffered.

And I know the only solution. The only thing to return you to a state of competence.

Is complete. Total. And embarrassing defeat.

Hurling you into the bay like a fish too small to devour.

I wanted you to feel the cold water as it swallowed your arms…

I wanted the saltwater to fill your lungs and wake you the f(ILL THIS SPACE WITH YOUR ADVERTISING POSSIBILITIES!) up.

I wanted you to realize that there is ONE MAN.

ONE SINGLE OPPONENT.

That stands between you.

And your title as the unstoppable monster of the XWF.

The man who has managed to do everything you’ve failed to do.

The man who skyrocketed to success while you wallowed as the third best in your pathetic Donathan-centric stable.

How is it that even in your big return where you declare yourself an unstoppable monster, you’re still willing to play Second Fiddle to Donathan?

Do you get mad when he feeds Tyler Decker first?

Does he pet you when your stomach rumbles, telling you to be patient?

Let me tell you.

You can cash in your briefcase on me, Feder. And prove what everyone around you secretly thinks.

That you’ve lost it. That you’re the big easy, quick to rise…

And quicker to fall… And with the line of people ready to take me on…

Imagine how quickly that line’s going to fill up to swat your pathetic a(POTHECARY! VISIT YOUR LOCAL APOTHECARY FOR ALL YOUR HOLISTIC MEDICAL NEEDS!) back down to Hell where it belongs. All the big names that you listed, viewing you as the prey you truly are…

But, instead, let me offer you an alternative possibility.

One that leads to the biggest match in XWF History.

I have, in my possession, a title shot for any XWF based Championship I see fit to challenge for.

I won it when I pinned Sarah St. James in a matter of minutes back on New Year’s Eve.

I wasn’t the first, nor the last man to pin St. James and have my way with her, but eh, I’ll take the reward if I’m given it.

In coming weeks, I plan on utilizing this opportunity. In a means that will become more clear as days pass.

I recommend that it is your best interest to wait until my plan becomes more clear… And guarantee that this will only benefit you in the long run, Feder. Because, that’s all I want, really.

I want the old Sid Feder. I want him to cast off the shackles of oppression that have him following around Donathan and Tyler Decker, two scum-sucking rejects not worthy of cleaning 3 Times’ boots.

And I want him to really look at the North Korean Championship on Donathan’s shoulder. Really take a nice look at that gold plating, at the black leather strap, at the incredible design of that fine

belt…

And imagine… Just exercise that brain one more time for me…

Imagine how much better that belt would be…

If it were on your shoulder instead.

…

I can’t make you do anything, Feder. We both know that.

But what I can do is assure you.

At the end of this journey…

We will do what men like us have since the dawn of time.

And while the slack-jawed simpletons that claim to run this establishment keep promising us greater things in the future.

Things like Gauntlet City… The ‘King of XWF’ match…

We two… Together… Will be the one’s that bring it to fruition.

C’mon Sid… Get out of bed…

It’s time to wake up, Sid…

Wake up.

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