Did someone let Fat Boy out of their sights in the 100 yard vicinity of an all-you-can-eat Chicken Parm joint, or is just afraid, like usual, of a one-on-one fight with someone he knows he can’t beat?
I’ve been thinking, dude, and I’ve gotta be honest – Peter Gilmour’s continued promotion as some sort of EXTREEEEEME icon is just tired, old, and wrong, man. It’s time to put it to rest. Look, I don’t mean to take any money out of any other wrestler’s pockets, dude, I get how hard it is to make it in this business, but the shit is getting out of hand. Look. Look at the promo material being passed around for this match.
You see that shit? They’ve got Peter Gilmour standing there with a shit-eating grin on his face standing on the same level as me, the greatest Universal Champion of all time. Dude, I’m the leading man around here, okay? I deserve top billing. Does DiCaprio do a picture where his name isn’t at the top of the list? No. Why? Because he’s a megastar and an icon in his industry. Does LeBron James step onto the court for any less than six figures a game? No. Why? Because he’s a megastar and an icon in his industry. I’M the draw here, dude. I’M the man. Who the fuck is Peter Gilmour when compared to me, huh?
Well… let’s figure that out together.
Peter Gilmour is a dude who runs around doing everything he can to convince the world he’ hip and cool. He hangs with rock stars, he hooks up with women, he has a hot blonde he goes home to every night… hmmm. Starting to sound familiar. Let’s see, he’s obsessed with his body image, which he’s proven over and over again with a half dozen gastric bypasses. He’s a guy who snapped himself out of a slump by winning the XWF Hart Championship, and he’s been on a hot streak ever since, which he’s ridden all the way to a shot at the biggest prize in the game today, the Universal Championship. Holy shit, dude, this is a story that anyone who’s followed me for the past two years has already seen, isn’t it?
I think it’s pretty clear… Peter Gilmour is a wannabe. More specifically, he wants to be “Loverboy” Vinnie Lane. He can't stop talking about me sucking his dick, about my girl sucking his dick... fantasies that will never be anything more than exactly that - fantasies. The same way that him being the Universal Champion will never be anything more than a fantasy.
Gilly-boy, I don’t know why you insist that my fiancée thinks about you and gets wet, dude, but it’s just not the case. I mean, look at you and then look at me. I’m tall, tan, blond, in incredible, peak shape. I’m the Universal Champion. I’m the guy on all the posters and magazine covers. I’m the top ranked wrestler in the top ranked promotion in the entire world. I’m a sex symbol, a rock star, a world class lover and lothario… and you’re Peter Gilmour.
Let’s set the record straight, Pete. You don’t HAVE a “super dick.” You don’t have ANY dick, other than whichever ones you pop into your mouth when you want a push in this business. We saw you lose it, man. We see it dangling like the world’s most shriveled pinky finger around Morbid Angel’s neck every time he finally decides to come out of his sarcophagus and blinking, step into the sun. You run around here screaming “suck my dick” to anyone you run into, but they couldn’t, even if they wanted to, because you’re not packing any meat, dude. All you’ve got is a set of tiny balls in a stretched out sack flapping around under a ¾ inch diameter nub where Peter’s peter used to live. It would almost be sad if it wasn’t so fucking funny, and so god damn ironic that the dude who won’t shut about dicks for more than thirty seconds at a time doesn’t actually even possess one anymore. Do you at least get visitation every other weekend?
But I digress.
Let me get back to my main point from before… the all-to-obvious realization that you just want to be me, but can’t get it done. Sure, you had Maria before I had Roxy. And sure, you were an X-Treme, Trios, and Hart Champion all before I ever stepped foot in this company… but dude, that’s kinda what makes it extra sad, man. You already had the things you brag about over and over and over, but you could still never do anything with them. I turned my title reigns into bigger and better opportunities, dude. My shocking upset at Relentless 2014 saw me defeat three of the biggest names in this company’s long history, basically by myself, and it gave me the ability to move up. I went from a wannabe to a champion with the snap of a finger… but I didn’t let it be all that I was. That’s why I don’t still discuss those reigns, man. Why would I? Why would the Universal Champion talk about being a dominant Hart Champ? Why would the biggest name in the XWF talk about how he was a better X-Treme Champ in his three days with the belt than you managed to pull off with all thirteen reigns combined? Those things are beneath me, man. If I cared about the Hart Title, I’d have it. I decimated Maverick while he was the champion, and I could have made it a match for the title if I wanted to… I get what I want, Gilly. Same with the X-Treme Title. Do you see me going after Frodo and trying to pin him in the hallways, or do you see me chilling in my tour bus, sipping Jack and Coke, and watching my bank account get fatter than your undergut after an all-you-can-swallow dick sucking buffet? Spoiler, it’s the second one. Again, I get what I want, dude, and if the X was a prize in my eyes then it would be around my chiseled waist and not getting greasy nut stains all over it from the midget. You might remember that I beat Austin Fernando very recently, dude, but that I didn’t make any effort to take his title from him at the time, now did I? No. The only notches I need on my belt are being me, being the Universal Champion, and being the King of the XWF, which I will be by the time we have our match, Gilly. So let’s just go ahead and skip the part this week where you talk about how you’re some grand champion with a list of incredible accolades. Get it right, man. I’M the champion here. YOU are just the wannabe. And for the last year or two, dude, what you’ve wanted to be most is ME.
Think about it for a minute, any of you wannabes at home… I’m the rock star that Gilmour always thought he’d get to be. I’ve got the perfect ten blonde at my side, while he goes home with a discount six. I’m the Universal Champion, the number one professional wrestler in the entire world… and he’s just lucky to get a CHANCE. It’s not a fair comparison at all, dude. I’ve got Peter Gilmour beat in every way imaginable, from money to women to looks to success. I’m number one, and Gilly isn’t even on the list.
I bet that’s frustrating to hear, huh Gilmour? I bet it hurts when you have to deal with the truths about you and me. And I bet it definitely hurts when you go home to your wife and get bossed around behind closed doors. Don’t lie, dude, we all know. You being a cuckold to your worn out wife is the worst kept secret in the XWF. Everybody talks about how pathetic it is to see a grown man have to do what his woman tells him, because she makes more money than he does. I bet she makes you sit in the corner and cry into your J.O. session while she gets taken down to pound town by real men, doesn’t she? You do the dishes, you vacuum the floor, you scrub the toilets and help her get the blood stains out of period panties… why don’t you just put on a skirt and admit that you’re HER wife, dude? That if you had to live on your own it would be in a rent controlled studio apartment in Compton, not the palatial estate that your celebrity wife bought with her money.
To think that a closeted cuckold, a daily recipient of physical and mental spousal abuse, a ten-time loser, like Peter Gilmour actually believes he can keep pace with a megastar like me in the ring is absurd. In fact, it’s insulting that you think you could ever hope to overcome me in a match of this magnitude just based off of a handful of meaningless, questionable matches from over a year ago. News flash, Gilmour… I’m not the guy who lost to Team at War Games ’14. I’m not the guy who got put through a table on some crappy Shove It. I’m not even the same guy who watched his partner get disqualified against you and Dim last year, dude. I’m BETTER. Every day of my life is spent getting better at what I do, man… and all you’ve done is stay the same. Same insults, same bullshit, same boring skyline to open every one of your boring promos.
Just listen to the way your voice shakes when you talk about how you can’t screw around and fuck yourself over this time. But dude, you and me, we both know that’s what’ll happen in the end. It’s who you are, man, it’s what you do best. You’ll come into the match with a head of steam and a fire in your belly, but the further we get into things, the more frustrated you get when I keep getting up every time you think you’ve got me down for the count… you’ll start to get angry and get frustrated, and you’ll start to make mistakes. And at the end of the day, Gilly, that’s what your problem has always been. I’ve never once said you weren’t a threat in the ring. I’m not stupid, dude, I’ve been in the ring with you before, both against you and on the same side. I know exactly what you can do and what kind of abilities you have. If we were just talking about your ability to wrestle versus mine, then maybe we’d be talking about a more even contest. But, the problem is, you’ve never been able to follow through. Look at you. Back and forth between the XWF and WGWF, never able to attain the top title in either federation. You’ve had YEARS to be the best, Pete, and it’s never happened. In less than one, I matched all of your accomplishments and then exceeded them, skyrocketing to the Universal Title like I was shot out of a cannon! In that same amount of time, you’ve managed to do what? Beat guys like Scully, Maverick, Alexis Riot and Ghost Tank? Those guys are nothing, dude. I’d beat any one of them without breaking a sweat and you know it. What’s your track record against the main eventers, though? Legends like Azrael, Duke, Pryce, and so on? More recent superstars like Trax and Doc D’Ville? Gator? Even Luca? Have you ever snuck a win past ANY of those names, Pete? Because I’ve beaten every single one of them. That right there is the biggest difference between you and me, dude. I’ve got the ability to put in a higher gear and I have the IT factor that separates normal men from champions. I am a champion, and I have been since the day I was born. I was born destined to be great, dude. I may as well have been born with a crown on my head and a belt around my waist… the only thing you were born with was a hard-on from your mother’s snatch. Gross.
But I digress.
The real reason people are dying to hear me rip you to shreds today, dude, is that they’re all dying to see what stipulations I’ve chosen for the second fall of our match. Way to be predictable by the way, dude. Like I didn’t see some ridiculous hardcore garbage like glass panes and barbed wire coming from a mile away. That was almost as shocking as Frodo making us wrestle in shit, or putting himself over everyone he can’t beat fairly with his back office shenanigans. Can you hear me rolling my eyes at you?
So here’s the skinny, man. After I beat you into a bloody pulp and slice every pore of your body open with shards of glass until you beg for mercy and tap out, we’re going to have us a chain match. You and me, connected at the wrist by fifteen feet of steel chain to be used in whatever way we deem necessary, until one of us can get all the way around the ring to all four turnbuckles before the other guy. I’m adding this stipulation to our match not only because the entire world is tired of watching the same variations of ‘extreme death match’ from you every single time you manage to enough weight to slip under the heavyweight cutoff, but also to give you a real shot at tying things up. See, to win a chain match, you don’t have to pin me, dude. So just like those other ‘wins’ that you like to hang your hat on, like watching me get thrown out of a battle royal by someone else, or lying on the ground while your partner pins mine, putting me through a table, or standing there with drool on your mouth while I get disqualified… just like all of those cheap wins, this gives you a chance for another one. I can see it now, loser Peter Gilmour comes out of our match with no Universal Championship after losing two out of three falls and getting buried in a pile of shit, but all he’ll be able to talk about is that one fall did he DID win. I’ll get to hear about the FIVE losses that gives me to you for the rest of my career, even after proving once and for all that just like I’ve been saying all along… you can’t get it done.
See dude, some of us were meant to be on the stage and some of us were meant to have to scrape together enough cash to buy a backstage pass to even breathe the same air as the stars. I’m here, highest of the high, looking down on everyone else… and that includes you, Pete. No matter how much you build yourself up, no matter how much you try to insist that we’re on even ground heading into Warfare… we’re not. I’m the champ. I’m the main event. I’m the one the women want to see and the men want to be. You have always been and will always be nothing more than a common wannabe. You’re not a megastar, you’re not the champion, and you sure as hell aren’t immortal. Your career and your dreams aren’t anyway. This week on Warfare, I’m going to kill them… and if you really can’t die, dude? You’ll wish you could.
If you all don’t mind though, I feel like I need to digress one more time. Then I swear I’ll let you all go back to successfully not being Peter Gilmour, and let Peter Gilmour get back to being a footnote to the “Loverboy” Vinnie Lane Story.
Gilly, you really kinda took me surprise with something you said in your latest installment of “what it’s like outside in Los Angeles.” I’m not sure how I haven’t heard this story, since it isn’t like you’re good at staying off the radar… I mean, I heard about Frodo fucking you in the asshole, I heard about you choking on shit until literally dying in the ring, and I heard about you getting your pecker snipped off… but one thing I never heard before dude is how exactly it is that you’ve been naked with Shane ? I mean… dude… I talk to Shane a lot and he’s never once mentioned getting naked in front of you. Did you roofie him? Or were you pulling some peeping tom shit in his yard?
I expect to hear all about this the next time your wife lets you get some TV time.
"Loverboy" - Nobody's Fool -->
at War Games ’14. I’m not the guy who got put through a table on some crappy Shove It. I’m not even the same guy who watched his partner get disqualified against you and Dim last year, dude. I’m BETTER. Every day of my life is spent getting better at what I do, man… and all you’ve done is stay the same. Same insults, same bullshit, same boring skyline to open every one of your boring promos. ![[Image: Gz87KnQ.jpg]](http://i.imgur.com/Gz87KnQ.jpg)
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