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~~Frodo mother fucking Smackins~~ · **12-07-2014, 09:30 PM**

”Look at this. The sandbagging bitch decides to show up to the ball after all. How long did it take you to jot down the notes needed to come up and try to shit on me? You only said 700 words, spoke for not even a full five minutes. So, I’m imagining it took almost no time at all. But, then again, you probably spent all week trying to figure out how fucked you really were when you saw my name up there with yours. But, wait, sweet relief, you have a partner. You see, that means you have the undue advantage over me, right? I cannot possibly take on two simple minded cuntshakes at the same time. Can I? I’ve done it before, and I damn sure intend to do it again. But the question is, are you at the same level as the people I faced before, or are you above them? Can they stack up with you? Are they from the same playing field that you are from? All of these questions and more will be answered when the ref calls the match tomorrow. But the thing is, you’re wrong if you even think for a second that it will make a world of difference.

You see, the match, it’s already been called, the victor’s already got his prize, and bragging rights were already thrust upon me. That’s correct, I’ve already won. You’re just so fucking naïve that you don’t know it. You see, the worst part of being me? Too many people want to come and stomp me. So many people want to come at me and prove themselves against the Midge. You know why? Because I have a reputation. A name. Meaning. People know about me. They know that I run my fucking mouth so much it actually hurts the people I attack, they know that when I set my sights on you, shit will not be going your way. They know that I am the man. No, I’m not a champion, no, I did not win against the Three Kings, and no, I did not become King of the Ring, but you know what I did do? I stood the fuck up, and sent John Samuels to the fucking ground. Repeatedly. How is that an accomplishment? Because the man has me outclassed in terms of strength, height, and weight. I should not be able to do that. And I did. I should not be able to stand up to Sebastian Duke.

But I did. I should not be putting down the people I put down. But I do. And I do it well. You will find no major reigns as a champion in my resume, because I have willingly fought in one Championship match. And unwillingly in another. Now, I did enter the trios championship once, but that was again against Sebastian Duke, someone I should not have been able to put down. But Duke did go down. He may not have stayed down, but I sent him there. Again, outclassed in size, strength, and accomplishments, but I got him down. Should I be able to punk out Cain, the first murderer? The Beast of Lore? No, but I do it for fun. Should people be pissing themselves when they see me in the ring with them? No, but they do it anyway. Should I be preparing to fuck Caroline O’Hara for three straight hours? Yes, and I will do that. Should I be preparing to celebrate another win over Joey Hawkins and his chronically handicapped partner? No, that’s just not something you celebrate. Beating up the mentally handicapped and all. But I will.

Which brings up to you, Ferrari. You have shit on me. Not a fucking thing. You have no height advantage, you have no weight advantage. You’re 2 inches shorter than I am, and the same weight. Your short jokes are just sad, little boy. You should keep that mouth of yours shut in preparation for when that jaw gets wired. Oh, you didn’t think I’d let you leave the ring still able to talk, did you? No. I intend to take a few teeth with me as well. Your worst insult is to call me Froyo, as if I was Frozen Yoghurt. Yes, keep that going. Keep believing I’m some frozen dish made for health conscience white people. It’ll make it more interesting when I ram your goddamn jaw in Hawkins’ ass. No, you didn’t suppose that one was going to happen, did you? You thought I was going to ignore your pussy ass comments, didn’t you? Maybe let you go with questioning my methods? I guess I could see the allure in that. Getting to run your mouth like there’s no tomorrow, because who’s going to stop you? I normally do that, and don’t get stopped. But, see, the problem is that you are going to get stopped. Tomorrow, by me.

I’m going to make you accountable for every single thing you said to me. And I’m going to start, by Powerbombing you. Yes, I am going to powerbomb you. I don’t normally do a powerbomb, but tomorrow, I make an exception. Just to show you how easily I can do. And do you know why it’ll be so easy? Weight distribution. Because of your height, your weight will be displaced, thus you’ll be easier to pick up than if you were a 150 pound lump of chains. It’s simple physics, bitch. Something I doubt you could spell. I wonder if you’ll even recognize that it happened. Hell, I doubt you’ll be recognizing much of anything after that. But, please, do continue to attempt to dissuade others from believing that I’m not to be fucked with. It’s cuter for me when they tell me how you told them I was a bitch. I’ll just think back to the time I put your ass into a coma, then laugh to myself. They’ll ask what’s funny, and I’ll question whether you’re still being fed through a tube or not. They won’t know to answer it. Because they won’t know our history. But I will. And when you shut your eyes at night, you will too.

Tell all the lies you want, but you’ll have nightmares about our encounter for years. Trust me, you’ll beg and beg to fight me. It won’t happen, but you’ll beg and beg. You’ll claim Hawkins held you down, and he’ll make the same claim. Then me? I’ll just know you both held each other down equally. But I held you down the worst. So badly, that they’ll count it out. The one, the two, and the three will echo in the arena. People will scream my name, and they will cry for you. Cry because you came in on your debut, and got handed an ass kicking that you were unprepared for. And all because I got bored. A little sad to think about. What could have been your most glorious of victories, probably your only one, and I had to come along and destroy it before it could even begin. Because I got bored. You should have begged Kirk to put you against someone else. Anyone else. He probably would have done it, I don’t think he’s a true sadist.
See, I’m going to bypass your comments about Swagmire, my brother, not my friend, for the time being. We’ll circle back to them. Circle back when I feel like it. If I fucking feel like it. I’m going to focus pretty intently about what the fuck you said about my daughter for a minute. Real smart, by the way, talking about a man’s kid. Great way to get your jaw busted. Which, I already promised you is happening. It’s not a matter of will it at this point, it’s how far into the ring before it does. You think you’re going to come around and scoop up my baby girl, in a Ferrari. And you think she’ll be impressed? That is how you’re going to start this shit? By trying to impress my baby girl with your faggoty Magnum PI car? Really? I’m actually insulted there. No, not by you making passes at my princess. She’s white, you’re a piece of shit ass baby, your cottony genetics are all atingle when you see a white girl, I get it. I was raised by a black family. Was adopted, after all, so I know the feeling you get when you smell white pussy. But the thing that insults me, is the Ferrari part. Like my princess would ever lower herself to be impressed with that.

Let me ask you something, Honda. When you were out car shopping on Craigslist for what vehicle to claim to have, did you just look up the most generic rich

car you could possibly find and decide to go with that? Who the fuck honestly brags about a fucking Ferrari? You were better off going with the Honda Accord shit I accused you of. At least people will believe you can actual spell that one. Let me ask you, Princess, did you steal this one, or nah? Of course not, you’d have to actually have it to have stolen it. Better question, why red? Were you out of generic car ideas? Shit son, I already told your ass, your pussy car won’t impress me. Do you not know shit about me? Fuck, my Nova SS can smoke your Ferrari right now. And if you want to claim it’s not a supercar it doesn’t count, I’ll borrow the Daytona Coupe I bought my manager. You do know what that is, right? It’s fucking expensive, man. 19M expensive. Yeah, you’d need a lot of Ferrari’s to keep up with the cost. And the raw power of one.

You’re going to come to me with a fucking Mangum PI car when I have that sitting there? Seriously? And we back track to you thinking that would impress Katie? Fuck, son. You’re fucked. And how the fuck is a 19 year old going to go to a Foster Home? I don’t get you, man. I really don’t. You’re trying to act all tough, and threaten me, but then you seem to actually back up all of my claims about you. It’s kind of interesting. Fuck, are you being serious with me, or do you think that we can be friends? Really, would you prefer we do this as a dance off? I know that shit was popular when you getting kicked out of high schools and stuff. I just don’t know. You want to impress me, and my daughter, but you’re coming up with some extremely weak stuff. It kind of hurts my feelings. Do you think we’re that easily impressed? Are our standards that low?

Yeah, I guess I could have done better than to call you a sponge, but did you really need to sink so low to the cumbag thing? Because that’s a pretty weak insult. It’d have been better if you called me a Cumsicle, or a Cum Mountain, or a puddle of cum that’s sitting atop a giant mountain of dried cum. See, those are pretty good. Yours? I’d say not very good. I went on and elaborated on the level of shittiness attached to your sponge. You? You left it alone like that. Dammit, man. How can you impress my daughter with weak arguments like that? Jesus. I thought you wanted to see if her white girl booty was able to take your big black cock? Spoiler alert, she can’t. Because you don’t have one. You have an average sized dick, if that. Although, your general attitude as of this promo tells me you have little cock syndrome. It’s when your cock is tiny, so you try and compensate by telling people otherwise. We’ve seen on camera that I have a good sized dick, just so you know. You? Your cock is in question, and it’s looking pretty tiny.

It’s ok, though. Not everything has to be about cocks. You can be confident to get girls, or boys, whatever. No judging. But, then the Little Cock Syndrome comes in and lets us know you’re not confident. Man, you’re not going to be getting laid too frequently. Unless you pay for it. Wanna pay for it? I got a club, plenty of white bitches for you. Hell, some of them might be on their periods, so you can pick that cotton out of there if you want. Make like you’re an 1800’s slave rebelling against his white owner. Dude, we can arrange all of your needs. Except, it will be hard to explain it to the girls after I bust your jaw. Pussylious. There, better than the sponge comment?”

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