Hysteria stands upon the altar staring down at his fellow Asylum-mates. He removes his hat and places it on the mantle in front of him. Moments ago he had just informed the group that they had a weak link in their midst. The group below had begun murmuring amongst themselves as Hysteria had taken a moment of reflection. The gloved hands of Hysteria begin gripping the sides of the podium as Hysteria begins seemingly becoming frayed at the edges. One of the hands comes up and begins scratching behind his head through the mask. Hysteria laughs softly more in spite than really in enjoyment or humor. Suddenly his laugh transforms into an outright uproar startling several of The Asylum members below. Hysteria begins slamming his fist down on the podium in front of him. Hysteria then kicks the podium furiously before lifting the enormous weight of it up over his head. As he lifts it up, the book falls to the ground beside him. Hysteria quickly throws the podium across the stage as his chest heaves and heaves. Ghost Tank rushes up the stage to comfort Hysteria, but Hysteria throws up a hand and points for Tank to leave him. Ghost Tank slowly backs away letting Hysteria collect himself. Hysteria slowly bends and picks up The Book of The Higher Power. He examines it momentarily before shaking his head and places the document inside his jacket. Hysteria turns and looks at the crowd before him.


As I was saying. We have a weak link. A coward. An… embarrassment. Only this embarrassment is worse than the predictable nature of that diabetes-ridden fool standing opposite of me on Wednesday. You may have picked up on the conspicuous absence of one of our senior members of The Asylum. The Martyr.

The members begin looking around and noticing the missing Mickey Manson. The murmuring continues, but is silenced by the increasing laughter of The Prophet.

Mickey ‘Fucking’ Manson. The Martyr. The Higher Power’s FIRST DRAFT PICK! At least, his first after myself. We were chosen. WE ALL WERE CHOSEN! Chosen for greatness! Chosen to represent him before his day of reckoning. Yet, on this momentous occasion, where the FUCK is he? I told him of this introduction of our newest brother. You know what he said to me? To THE PROPHET TO THE HIGHER POWER!?! He told me, he didn’t feel like he had to come. I asked why quite naturally. You know how he responded? HUH?! He fucking had the AUDACITY to tell me that he didn’t have to because he’s a founding member. A founding member of The Asylum and he believes that he’s allowed to skip on one of his brother’s most important moments of his life.

Hysteria stops and laughs sinisterly to himself. His fists are balled up in the gloves. The crowd is completely silent. Hysteria begins pacing back and forth.

You see, I’ve now been tasked with an impossible task. The Higher Power is not only angry, but furious. He wants action. He wants resolution. The Higher Power has demanded that the Martyr be exiled. He also has issued me to do something that I will probably regret for the rest of my life. The Higher Power not only wants this ungrateful piece of shit exiled and ignored… he wants Mickey ‘The Martyr’ Manson…

Terminated.

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Ohhh hellooooo Wallybaby! It’s your certifiable Doctor of Fates and Prescriber of Prophecies here to once again prove to yourself as well as the world that you are the most loathsome piece of filth to ever lace up his Dollar Tree-bought boots against me.

Quote:Replay: Your just a fuckin' over- hyped twat who likes busting on illiterate dumbasses like Luke Kage, but I find it hilarious because you fall in said category of illiterate dumbass.

Oooh! I sure hoped you’d bring this up! Who the fuck are you to accuse me of that? In case you don’t remember, you only got this match with me because you beat that degenerate . As for illiterate dumbass? Maybe you should just look at the same exact sentence. ‘Your just?’ Oh boy. Why don’t you just say their is know reason four me to keep fighting? You fucking illiterate tool. Here’s an expression you may be used to. YOU’RE the pot hehehe calling the kettle black whenever speaking in complete sentences seems like a goddamn chore for you.

You also referred to me as Darren Dangerous under this mask? Really? I’m afraid not, Hersey shit-stain. You see, the face under this mask if of no importance to you. In all actuality, you can just fuck off about my identity. Somehow I feel as though this face would do nothing but enforce how shitty a situation you are in. Oh wait I’m Bea Arthur now right? Or do I masturbate to images of her? Oh wait! I masturbated to her so much that I became a carbon-copy of her. That’s right, that’s right. Boy, science class must’ve really been hard for you fucktard. Or maybe you just thought that entire class was funny due to the copious amounts of hash you smoked before sitting down. However, now that you mention it… you do certainly seem to favor a Miss Rosie O’Donnell.



Striking resemblance dare I say! Better watch what you beat that meat to Wallybaby! Wouldn't want you to become a super heavyweight before our match. Primarily because your diabetes requires you NOT gain weight. Eating those greens and fried chicken is now a no-no. Oh! Don't cry little one! I know that it's scary eating healthy foods! It's okay, there there... I tell you what, I'll let you eat one little piece of fried chicken if you finish your salad. That way the big scary doctor doesn't have to come chop of your leg! I mean unless you want to try out the new Kamala look...



What the-holy shit! That guy looks JUST like your punk ass! Holy shit! I've discovered No Legs Wallace! His name is Kamala and he still has more talent in his stumps than this wanna-be gangsta does in his entire fucking body.

You know, I bet you shack up with a shit-ton of girls. I mean you do have the sensitive 'I-Won't-Move-Past-Holding-Hands' vibe. But we all know that it doesn't go much further than that. Hell you probably degrade the entire African American population whenever you drop your pants to reveal that 2 inch Vienna sausage you call a cock.

You said you aren't the voice of the voiceless? Well MAKE UP YOUR GODDAMN MIND. First you call yourself the Voice of the Voiceless, thus I referred to you as that chicken-shit CM Punk. Then you say that you aren't CM Punk and you're The Sound of Silence. Ironic. That's usually what we hear when you walk down the ramp. The Sound of Silence. Then you proceed to claim to have 'made' Johnathan Heartsford? Excuse me? You MADE him? By what? Laying on the mat like a little bitch whilst Swann and Knight kicked your ass. For fuck's sake, the Swann guy was ambushed by TFHP and left for dead. That bitch came back and put your ass in a hole. Way to be a bitch. 'I made him!' He was awarded a title and you think he was 'made' by you? Proceed to open your lips and remove Knight's dick from your piehole.

You proceed to run me down claiming I'm 'there' leader when referring to the previous losses of Manson, Tank, Fyre, and Underwood? We all must grow from somewhere is that not true? After all, you grew from your father's sister/one night stand's womb until the day when your dad kicked your mother down the stairs leading to your .

So please tell me more about how you're going to ruin my dreams and make yours 'exsist.' Please continue on your tirade of mediocrity and homosexual slurs. Because nothing screams definitive badass than someone walking around yelling ',' 'cum-guzzling,' 'semen-slurping.' Nothing at all. Or shall I bring up a little incident called 'Correlation does not imply Causation.' Oh you know, that instance where that little girl made you look like a rambling madman obsessed with living his mundane and idiotic gangsta lifestyle? Seriously, that's another bitch that made you look no smarter than the fuckers flipping burgers at the local McDonalds.

Now, I want a Big Mac with extra mustard. And don't you dare forget that lettuce. I have to have something healthy to help digest this heart attack in a bun.

Get it done, now. Fucker.