Threaded Mode | Linear Mode

Karl_Cross · (04-06-2015)

It speaks!

I really was beginning to wonder if annoying me was going to be something else you failed at this week. Isn't a 'pest' supposed to incessantly get on my nerves until I'm ready to snap? It's curious that you've done pretty much the opposite and kept yourself hidden from the silver pointed arrows that Karl Cross fires.

Anyway, you decided to show face again. Hooray!

So, who the hell is Aiden Collins? This week is the build up to what will prove to be the most crushing defeat in your miserable career and it seems that you're trying to bring up personal problems your having with your man crush. I continue tearing you to shreds mentally and you just shrug your dainty little shoulders and gush: "Oh, Aiden!" Now, I'm sure you'll try and think of some stuttering statement about how wrong I am and bang on about your boy toy again but please don't bother. I don't care; it's not relevant.

Quote:"You are not fearsome. Do you know why I spoke of myself as a nightmare? Not because I believe I have a pact with the devil, nor do I hold any of the ideals that I am truly a monster. Despite the fact that I do refer to myself as the monster under your bed. No, I am a Nightmare because I do bring fear to the hearts and minds of parents around the world."

So far this week this is the only thing you've said that threatened to prick it's way under my skin. Am I annoyed because it's a stunning argument which cannot be disputed? No, I'm vexed because you actually dared to suggest that I'm the king of "boring repetition" while dumping steaming piles of horse shit like this in to my ears. If you don't watch that clip back and cringe with embarrassment then you have absolutely no place in this world, Pest. Again, what I've already said is that there is a difference between simply re-iterating a point and sending a clear message. Everything that comes out of that moronic mouth of yours lacks any sort of structure or coherent message and you have the god damn cheek to call me boring? At least 90% of what I say isn't filler.

Quote:Despite the fact that I do refer to myself as the monster under your bed. No, I am a Nightmare because I do bring fear to the hearts and minds of parents around the world. When fathers see that Pest will be in their town, they panic and hide their daughters. When mothers see me in their town, they hide themselves. The Pest is every parent's nightmare. He does what so few in the world of Wrestling succeed in doing. He truly panics parents.

Sorry, I didn't catch that. Who is it you strike fear in to again? Oh yeah, it's the group of people you repeated three times trying to make one statement. Repetition is truly wonderful ain't it? What's truly remarkable is that by my estimate you actually repeat the dig about repetition at least four of five times throughout your whole promo. You repeat that I'm repetitious while repeating your own points in some sort of ironic clusterfuck of a promo.

I don't even think that you know what angle you're coming from anymore. I truly believe that you're cheaply trying to score points based on a view you heard someone else say. Next time you want to come at me Pest, try coming up with your own points instead of seizing one that Dylan George or whatever rabble of morons you Skype with came up with.

Quote:Your false bravado, which you will now attempt to pass off as real confidence, but it is false

It's what? False. My fucking head hurts listening to you Pest. You're beyond terrible.

The truth is that you're nothing to be concerned about. You lurk around in the woods outside little girls bedrooms sweating with you hand shoved firmly down your crotch. The only thing that makes you is pathetic. Like you said yourself, you're just an old frail man. What exactly have the fathers of whatever town has the misfortunate of hosting you to start quaking in their boots about? Are you, a man who struggles to keep himself up the card of a professional wrestling company, going to hold them all off when they come kicking down your door with torches? On that matter, based on your own low regard for your self worth, is there anything that I even need to care about? S.A.M tried this same weird tactic of telling me he was useless last week and look where that got him.

Sure, you think you talk a good game, despite the fact that you don't, but by the sounds of it you are fully aware of the fact that you can't match me in any physical attribute so why even bother?

It's kind of like when a squirrel or a mouse tries to fend off a larger predator. The smaller foe comes out all fierce and full of bile but everyone including them knows that they've over estimated their chances and are about to get eaten alive.

Pest trying to teach Karl Cross how to cut a promo is the equivalent of the blind trying to teach the sighted to read. Also, yes I would take great pride in beating the blind in a speed reading contest before you ask. Just like I would in fact take great pride in beating the mentally handicapped and the wheelchair bound in whatever event of the

Olympics I saw fit. You see, unlike you Pest... I'm a winner. I don't care how many limbs someone has or how damaged their brain is, I'll quite happily kick their ass all around the ring just to prove that I am better than they are.

Quote: reminds me of a certain God we all know.

Here we go again... who the hell is Mystica? I'm almost bored with this little bait-and-switch routine that you guys around here seem to enjoy so much. Here I go just starting to think that a professional has actually focused on the task at hand and has given their undivided attention to their opponent and then you tangent off to some nobody. Mystica could be the most magnificent specimen of man who ever graced the XWF prior to me, with thunderbolts shooting from his eyes and lazers from his nostrils, but they have nothing to do with Karl Cross versus Pest. I could pull out my little black book and compare you to hundreds, no thousands, of balding middle aged men who have gotten themselves in to a battle they don't have the balls for but I don't. I'm looking to beat Pest; not someone who Pest reminds me of.

Quote:Will you baseless pride continue much like your opponent at Lethal Lottery, Hero Extreme? Karl Cross, claiming that he only lost to me because he allowed it.

Again... I'm not Hero X-Treme. I'm Karl Cross. Why do you keep doing that? Oh, it's because you've got nothing else of interest to say other than criticising editing techniques, arguing over what flavour of child molester you are and repeating points you've already made for the last few minutes? Got it, on we go.

I wonder why a man as utterly flawless as Karl Cross wouldn't know the difference between subsections of raping children? I also know nothing about different types of trains or breeds of pigeon. It's weird how someone might not know how to sift shit in to different categories when they spend no time with their hands in it, huh? You'll notice how I'm choosing not to use the fancy word you did to describe your own specific variation of scum because quite frankly I'd quite like to forget that it even exists.

Space my thoughts better, eh? What I take great pride in is the fact that my thoughts are well versed and don't flutter from my lips like the musings of an uneducated Tourette's sufferer. It's almost as if you have utterly no control over where your concentration is going to jump off to next. I actually find it quite amusing as you start almost every statement with one point, circle round two or three others, and then slide back to the first when everyone has already lost interest. I'd describe it as an art form is it was intentional but it's not.

The other thing that is truly tickling to me is that you drivel on and on and on about how self glorifying Karl Cross is but you do the exact same thing in your own way. I speak words of truth about how truly fantastic I am and you pat yourself on the back by constantly reminding us of just how despicable you are. The very thing you are calling me out for is riddled through each and ever promo you've ever cut. If people that live in glass houses shouldn't throw stones then you, my friend, are hurling bricks.

Monday night is fastly approaching Pest and presents an opportunity for Karl Cross to rid the world of you. In one corner stands a man who is just "better than you are." In the other cowers a ridiculous specimen of human being so ashamed by his own existence that he fills the holes by hurting defenceless children. You should do yourself a favour and down a bottle of sleeping pills on Monday morning for when that bell rings I'm going to evoke in you the same level of fear and suffering that you claim to inflict on small girls.

You're a waster, Pest. You were given a chance to show the XWF universe that you could truly make it in the big leagues by posing Karl Cross with a decent challenge. Instead all you've done is taken everything you feel insecure out and transferred it on to me. You cry repetition then repeat yourself. You cry self glorification then self glorify. You're biggest mistake was spending as much talking about other people as you did talking about me as you've shown your work to be what it truly is: hollow.

Quick, you better get your camera crew and throw together another 12 minutes of filler where you re-use the same jibe again and again and again and again and again. Maybe you could claim that I repeat myself this time or mention Aiden somebody?

Just for you Pest...

I am Karl Cross. I am better than you.

***

To Catch a Pest
Part II

00:00

Midnight.

Where the hell is that little fuck?

Sir Lightning Tail had not dared to show his face in a while now and Karl had began to believe that his efforts may have been in vain. Had there little game of 'cat and rat' now come to an end?

00:07

It had not. Just as Karl was about to give up and unset the traps he had deviously baited with Warfarin laced chocolate, the rat poked his head out from under the front door and sauntered in damp from the outside. Karl wrapped his hands around the worn leather grip of the tennis racket lay on his knees and propped himself up from the desk chair. He smiled at his squeaking nemesis before flying in to a flurry of swinging blows which Sir Lightning Tail continued to evade. With a grunt of angst, Karl slammed the racket as hard as he could hoping to deliver that one deadly blow he yearned for but the bent frame bounced off of the carpet awkwardly causing the weapon to spring free from his hand. The rat watched with delight as the racket glided through the air and collided with the TV screen. The large crack it caused grinned at the perplexed number one contender.

02:17

Karl slumped against the wall of his room in a prone condition giving no concern the damp brown mark it was causing on the back of his expensive white shirt. The racket, now barely recognisable for it's originally intended purpose, was gripped so tightly in his palm that it felt as if it had become part of him. Three feet in front of him, Sir Lightning Tail was garrisoned behind the upturned telephone receiver which had landed on the floor when Karl kicked over the desk in a rage. Watch through weary bloodshot eyes, Karl dispelled a yawn as he began to suspect the end of the battle may be near. The rat was beginning to sniff hungrily towards the poisoned food and Karl knew by the grumbling in his own belly that both sides were starving. He reached in to the pocket of his trousers and pulled out the other unused half of the peanut treat. With a large chomp he broke off a piece of the sugary confectionary as Sir Lightning Tail watched on enviously.

Go on, have some yourself.

Sir Lightning Tail took its first tentative steps towards the trap positioned by the bathroom door. It wafted it's twitchy pink nose over the deadly Snickers before closely examining the contraption it was encased in. Karl could literally hear the snapping on neck bone in his head and he fidgeted impatiently. The rat took was taking longer than Karl liked in inspecting it's guillotine. When it appeared that Sir Lightning Tail's attention was entirely taken by the trap Karl began to crawl slowly towards it. On hands and knees, he raised the tennis racket his above his head and prepared to pounce on the rat which now had it's back turned towards him. The time was now; this was Karl's best chance. He drove the racket down swiftly...

*SNAP*

Karl screamed out as his hand stung with pain from the trap closed across his fingers. At the last second, Sir Lightning Tail had jumped to the right causing Karl's appendages to land on top of the mechanism. Karl fell backwards on to the floor causing the unfinished Snickers to go toppling across the threadbare rug. The rat bounded towards it and watch with mouthfuls of delicious chocolate as Karl nursed his bruising fingers.

03:51

Karl jumped himself in to consciousness from the cat nap he had unintentionally drifted in to. He lifted his hand in front of his face and looked at the welts across his fingers. He shook his head as he thought of how ridiculous the notion was that he was being outwitted by vermin.

It's a rat, Karl! Get your shit in order.

Just as he was trying to conceive plan C, the silence in the room was broken by a sharp crackle. Karl scanned the room and noticed a small plume of smoke drifting upwards from the bedside table where the alarm clock sat. That was the only strange thing however; the display on the alarm clock itself was now blank.

--:--

Pulling out the bedside table, Karl was met with a sight that caused him to cackle with joy. Trailing from the back of the clock was a sleek black lead with curled a few times before leading to an area where the internal cables bulged out. Furthermore, the wires were frayed and bare where poor Sir Lightning Tail had been snacking on the yummy plastic. The rat itself lay motionless against the skirting board. The whiskers around its mouth were singed black where the volts had entered his little body and shocked it out of existence. Karl grabbed the rodents tail and lofted it out in front of his chest. Mockingly, he swung it from side to side as he relished in his satisfying, if lucky, victory. His delight was short lived though as Sir Lighting Tail lifted its head and sank it's yellow teeth deep in to Karl's already aching hand causing him to release it back on to the carpet.

04:26

Karl has mended the clock by pulling back the outer casing of the lead and twisted the wires back together. He was sure that the clock was now unsafe to use but something about its gentle glowing numbers calmed him. He hadn't seen Sir Lightning Tail since the rat had given him a reason to need a Tetanus shot.

66:66

Karl looked at the clock again suspecting that it wasn't working correctly.

05:33

The pit stains that had soaked through Karl's shirts during his rat killing efforts were now starting to smell. Soon he would need to shower and head off out on his day having barely had a wink of sleep due to his furry foe. The rat had re-emerged twice since it's electrocution and seemed visibly unshaken by the ordeal. Although still annoyed, Karl had began to pay less notice to it darting back and forth. He had in fact began to wonder why he had cared so much about ending it's insignificant life in the first place. Feeling the need to take a leak, he headed back to the bathroom where he noticed that his 'friend' had joined him.

As Karl began to do his business he noted that Sir Lightning Tail had headed in through a small hole at the foot of the bath tub and in to the cavity behind the plastic base cover. Intrigued, Karl finished up and pulled at the cover causing it to come free. Setting it aside and peering inside, Karl was overcome by the smell emanating from the thick black mould that had formed underneath. His eardrums resonated with high pitch squeaks of fear as he scanned the inside and found a surprising sight. Tucked up in the corner of the space, wrapped up in chewed cardboard and plastic wire, was a nest of at least a dozen little baby Sir Lightning Tails.

Their mother, the rat that had been giving Karl cross the run-around all night, was now in clear distress as she positioned herself between him and her children. Karl just smiled, his eyes filling with warmth as he cast a sight over the wrinkled little baldlings. He extended a battered finger towards Sir Lightning Tail in an act of truce and was delighted to find that the rat allowed him to stroke it's back seemingly unsure as to what else it could do.

"Your babies will undoubtedly be hungry. Let me get something for you."

05:42

Karl returned to the bathroom and kneeled by the filthy bath cavity with a large chunk of Snicker cradled in his palm. He reached out once more and stroked Sir Lightning Tail in order to show that he still meant no harm. When it appeared that the rat had accepted him, he reached out his other hand and offered the fat-laden meal. Sir Lightning Tail gratefully accepted and began greedily chomping its way through the offering.

After Karl was sure that Sir Lightning Tail had swallowed a good few bites, the smile slipped from his face and he climbed back to his feet. He turned on his heels and headed back to the bedroom to start packing away the now empty rat traps. The unfortunate rat first knew something was wrong when the Warfarin laced sweet started to burn it its stomach.

When Karl walked back in to the bathroom he was just in time to watch Sir Lightning Tail take it's last breath. Through it's blood filled eyes, the rat looked for the last time at it's beautiful offspring which Karl would later drown in the toilet bowl. Karl Cross gave himself a mental pat on the back.

You didn't stand a chance you little pest. I am Karl Cross. I am better than you.

Threaded Mode \| Linear Mode To Catch a Pest
Author	Message