The Boston Bruiser has been bitten & to add insult to injury he's had to rip bubble gum from his stomach, taking a wad of hairs with it.

The Boston Bruiser is now at the Equinox West Hollywood gym on Sunset . He knows that's where Sarah is because he follows her vlog (for business purposes of course). He's scanning for any sign of Sarah over what seems to be an endless ocean of cardio machines, he spots her, she's surrounded by her assistants. One holds up a bottle of Acqua di Cristallo Tributo a Modiglian & the other assistant flaps a Chinese fan near her face. Boston Bruiser grabs a 100-lb dumbbell. He gets within striking distance & he clocks her on the side of her head. She lays on the ground moaning in pain. He bends down at the knee and begins to talk.



You always got your minions telling you what you want to hear, well here's something you need to hear. Sarah, you are the Stuart Smalley of the XWF.
Every promo it's always about how awesome you are, how rich you are, & how doggone it people really like you. I know I speak for the entire XWF when I say, PLEASE SHUT THE CRAP UP! Anybody that has to keep talking about how awesome they are must have some serious self-esteem issues. What's wrong? Did your mommy not love you or something? You know I don't hear you talk about your mommy at all, did she abandon you? No wonder you're such a mess. Don't even get me started on your dad. He was a washed-up has-been of a wrestler. "I trained for years under my father" oh you must be one bad chick! Do you know who trained me? Killer Kowalski! Your father wasn't worthy enough to even lace up his boots. I spent years being trained by the best on how to inflict the worst kind of pain on my opponent. I'm about to do what that car crash should have done years ago, & that's end your career once & for all. You, Paris Hilton, & the Kardashians can all take a jet ride into the side of a mountain for all I care. Forget what Trump said, that's what will make America great again! I take bigger craps than you! Lesbe honest, you're only a couple of losses from ending up in a Betty Ford Clinic addicted to painkillers. In 5 years, you'll be broke, traveling from meth town to meth town begging fans to pay you for an autograph. Your fate is inevitable. There's no use in trying to stop it. Just accept your future for what it is.


He jackknives her onto the treadmill. He covers her for the pin

1....
2...

Sarah Selena Grey-Lacklan, that gloriously amazeballs premier athlete (more on that in a bit!) whose frosty badassery is basically, like, six Galladrials combined (go check out that Blackwater promo), (wait, no really, go check it out), blinks several times as the pain in the side of her head melts away. She sniffs loudly, taking in smelly fat loser, and realizes the predicament she is in. She squeezes her abs and then pushes out, just getting the smelly fat loser off her. Rounding to a kneeling position, she takes stock of where she is, and then groans.

Uhhh…it WOULD be one of the fat ones....

She stands up with a grimace, brushes off her shoulders, whips her hair back while flashing that Billion $$$ smile, and clocks in.

Here’s the next reject in a cesspool of ne’er-do-wells hoping to gain ANY sort of achievement or recognition off my shine. Here is the reality, dearie:

My shine is too bright for you.

I GET that you are totes obsessed with me. Why wouldn’t you be?! But like a LOT of my stalkers, you only look at the outside. You only look at the BRILLIANT and AMAZEBALLS smile of the Marketing Genius which has brought a level of sophistication and a layer of awesomesauce so thick that six people have choked in a row on a mouthful. That’s not even including the stupid pig, the dude who runs and hides when challenged, OR the freakin’ owner! And you think that YOU, a dude who doesn’t understand the difference between “minion” and “intern/Legionette” and needs to drop a bunch of names no one...literally no one...has heard of, can be the one to tackle ME?

Here’s that reality, dearie:

Third time’s the charm? Please. You’re one failed title attempt away from being a shitty Kid Kool side character. Trying to win one of these titles with twenty seven attempts while being here for five seconds? Shit, you’re twelve seconds away from finding yourself in a preshow match with Kuda where the winner has to join in on a disgusting threeway makeout session with Rain and Snow. And you know why? Because you’re jumping up and down “NOTICE ME, SENPAI!” nonsense is as eyeroll-inducing and gag-reflex-fighting as Whyte leaping into every conversation with a pathetic attempt to be remembered two years after his last promo. Hell, you’re so needy for attention that you’ll probably volunteer to sit in the audience for Eli’s lame-as-FUCK kid show or ask Game Girl for seventeen banners before you’ve had three matches. You’re nothing but a little boy begging for the attention, and THAT’S coming from Mrs. Eyes On Me!

So here’s the dealio, Flubby McFlubberton: MY job in the XWF is to bring quality and class to this company! MY job is to show the entire WORLD what a TRULY elite athlete looks, sounds, trains, and fights like. MY job is to be the stars which little kids reach for as they grow through life. But you? YOU’RE the dude who doesn’t get a ring entrance. YOU’RE the dude who is already in the ring when we come back from a commercial break. YOU’RE the dude who the ring announcer hypes up as “And already in the ring...from Nowheresville, USA...some nameless jobber you won’t remember in five minutes!” YOUR job is to end up on the receiving end of everyone’s finisher in some XWF compilation on CoolTube.

So do me a favor: Stop wasting my time so that I can get back to producing a KILLER War Games promo as I do my BEST to DRAG my SHITTY-ASS TEAM out of the muck of mediocrity so that I can launch off their shoulders and win this damn thing all by myself!

[color=#FF0000] Smelly fat loser. WOW for someone who hates Sci-fi bullcrap you just took us on a time machine back to 3rd grade. I have you know this smelly fat loser has been hitting the gym (not slim Jim either) since he was 15. Just because I don't have a 6-pack doesn't mean I'm not in shape. Heck, I'm round last time I checked that was a shape. Your attack on my size is BIGotry!



I checked out all your promos, but it has nothing to do with being obsessed. It's called doing your homework. See, I'm not like these uneducated half-wits who come at you with no effort. I put in work little missy. That works going to pay off.

"Stalking me" the only thing I'm stalking is an ice cream truck. You ought to change your name to "The Septic Tank" (ank ank ank for the echo effect) because..well, you get the point.

"Marketing Genius..sophistication..layer of awesomesauce" Did you just use genius, sophistication, & awesomesauce in the same sentence? The moment you uttered that nonsensical word you made any claim to being a genius & having sophistication null and void.

"needs to drop a bunch of names no one...literally no one...has heard of, " ... are you talking about your father? Because yeah no one has heard of him with exception of you airing in public your daddy issues...Oh, my daddy didn't like that I was a lesbian booo hoo. I trained under one of the best wrestlers in the history of this business. If you don't know who that is then you have no business being here.

"Flashing that billion dollar smile" what is that currency based on monopoly?!

"Flubby McFlubberson" I wish you would stop kidnapping these kids that supposedly reach out to you & getting them to write your promos. The only thing reaching is your lame attempts to combat me.

"You're the dude that no cares about"
I'm the dude that has busted his butt from the moment I could walk, talk, & feed myself. I didn't have a trust fund to fall back on. That Sarah is the big difference between us. You've had everything handed to you on a silver platter. Any accolades I achieved came from many years of sacrificing it all blood sweat and tears. Listen Captain White privilege, you haven't earned anything! You have been riding off the coattails of your lame father for too many years. You don't know what it's like to start with nothing and have nobody helping you. When you take away the money, the fancy clothes, and the trust fund you're left with a sad pathetic little girl..

You finish talking about how you got to go shoot a promo for War Games and Rescue your team.. easy their Captain Marvel (# Feminism). Just like her, you're all talk & no action. A lot of big promises that you won't be able to deliver on. #spoiler

The sad thing about all of this is it turns out you're THAT GUY.

You know who THAT GUY is?

The guy who can't come up with anything on his own.

The guy who can't figure out what to say unless he is able to bust out that CTRL+C and CTRL+V combo of sad nonsense.

The guy who quivers in obsessed anticipation of my words so bad that he has to send me a DM begging for me to validate him.

Pathetic shame that last sentence isn't a joke or jest. That literally happened. Like, screenshotted and everything.

How DOES that feel, anyway? How DOES it feel to be so incredibly mediocre that you leap at every opportunity to get noticed? How DOES it feel to be so entirely forgettable that a whole herd of elephants just shake their head and wonder what the hell all this was about? How DOES it feel to know that there are already, like, six people in my DMs laughing about how bad you are at this?

But you want to play a game? You want to talk about research? Sure, Tubbo Fattystein, here's a research game:

I've watched your promo, too. Ya know, the one where you hope beyond all hope that Rain gets permabanned before the show? The one where you REALLY hope that you get a slot onto my team? Yeah, that one. And know what I found? Nothing but generic comments and insults more uninspired than repeated attacks against a father that is dead and buried.

“DER YOU COULDN'T LAST FIVE MINUTES IN THE RING WITH ME OR LACE MY BOOTS HOLD ON I NEED TO SAY COUTER AND IN ORDER TO SHOW HOW HARDCORE AND EDGY I AM I WENT TO DA SCHOOL OF HARD KNOCKS"

But by all means, keep harping on what you can read in my bio and not what I have done in this company and see how well that goes for you.

Research. Ha. Yeah, I grew up rich. But that doesn’t define me. Yeah, I had to battle for acceptance over who I am. But that doesn’t define me. But you? Your struggle DOES define you. Come from little and strive for greatness? You could be the next American Story. You could be an idol for kids to aspire to. But instead, you’re just another example of a nobody who failed to be somebody. Your entire life spent busting your ass and striving to be great, and what have you achieved? A bunch of empty words. A whole bunch of “PLEASE LOVE ME I’M NOT A COMPLETE LOSER JUST 2/3RDS OF ONE DOESN’T THAT COUNT FOR SOMETHING?!” while you fail again and again AND AGAIN.

Sweet Baby Jesus, this is starting to get embarrassing, Vinnie. Please close this up before Wonderbread over here admits to doing more than just stalking ice cream trucks. Seriously, dude. Like, woah, ya know? Graves ain’t got NOTHING on THIS piece of baby-raping shit.

So not only are you ignorant but you're a giant hypocrite as well. Literally every promo I read from you, contained parts in which you quoted the other guy and then responded. You also need to pick which character you're going to promo as because right now it seems your Lucy from "50 First Dates." Short term memory is no laughing matter, you might want to get that checked out.


It was I who came after you! It was the Boston Bruiser who fired the first shot. What we're doing might be called a promo but when you get down to it, it's a debate and this is a rebuttal. Now for someone who claims to have the highest education money can pay for, you sure come off looking pretty dumb. I would post the definition for a rebuttal but it might confuse you. But the general idea is that you combat what has been previously stated.

You claim to be a Pastor's kid, well let me share some wisdom with you, Proverbs 17:28 "Even fools are thought wise if they keep silent, and discerning if they hold their tongues. " It's too bad you missed that Sunday school lesson.

When we get down to it, the word fool is what sums you up the most. A fool, who has to constantly throw in the faces of others her wealth, her materialism none of which you earned. In case you missed the last memo, that's the problem you haven't earned anything.

The idea that a 130 lb paperweight could stand between me and a title is a joke with the worst kind of punch line. I'll snap you in half and toss you out with today's garbage. It will only take 1 time for me to slap on the Boston Crab on your already feeble fragile legs and snap crackle pop, ring the bell because Mrs. Christioher Reeves is finished. Not all the money in the world could help you at that point. I'll expose you for what you are a fraud with nice makeup. I've fought off bigger men than you and lived to talk about it. You're weak. You're frail. and on the inside, you're broken. You're like a bad magic show, your money and all your flash is is distracting others from seeing the real you. Well, I see you for who you are and when I'm done beating you to within an inch of your life, everybody will see you for what you really are. And stop calling out for Vinnie to save you. He's not your daddy. For the time being, I'm your daddy and there will be no trust fund that can save you at this moment

This is the part where I allow you, through whichever media you choose, to go through my list of of promotional videos and find the part where I directly copied and/or quoted someone and then responded to said quote.

I’ll wait.

Still waiting.

Yep, still waiting.

AAAAAAAAAND still waiting.

Know why? Here’s why: There is a thing in this business called a receipt. Whether it is physical (like jumping a dude after he jumped you) or verbal (pulling up something you said and/or did previously to contradict what you are saying and/or doing presently), in order to “give someone a receipt,” you have to axly GIVE them a receipt. And unfortunately for you, just like when your lardass tries to take one Walmart receipt for those seven Hungrymans you ate in one shot and return them as “already opened” at a DIFFERENT Walmart, it doesn’t fly.

But!


Oh, holy hell BUT!

Since you DID devote a full seventeen percent of your latest lame attempt at my beautiful, shined hourly Federweight championship to a false premise, I’ll give you one more chance to peruse my promotional videos (all neatly catalogued for you...YOU’RE WELCOME) in order to provide that receipt.

I’ll give you more time. There ARE nineteen of the fucking things, after all.

So! Still back with nothing, huh? Here’s a dose of reality when fighting me, something that name after name AFTER NAME has learned in the XWF:

Making up random shit about me isn’t going to work. Presenting falsehoods as facts isn’t going to work. Just ask around, Oh Fierce Warrior of Research, and see how well not bothering to know about your opponent works when facing me. See how well approaching me like some random person in the ring gets you. Factoid: NO ONE is like me.

But that’s okay! After all, YOU’RE the guy who thinks that schoolyard insults win championships! YOU’RE the guy who thinks that HE is the big bad wolf who is going to crush me, even though LITERALLY eighty-five percent (give or take) of my opponents are bigger and stronger. YOU’RE the guy who thinks that I don’t know EXACTLY how to kick down a larger opponent while focusing on the joints begging and pleading for a break from your bulk. YOU’RE the one who thinks that he, and HE ALONE, is the person who is going to succeed with a style and repertoire mine is literally built to counter and destroy.

And you want to talk about earned?

Ask Fucktard Bro #3.

Eli.

Lux.

Dolly.

I’m the Queen of the Ring for a reason, slowpoke. Literally have 65 wins in a career shorter than your Sergeant Serpent.

But then again, YOU’RE the guy busting out a Proverb about how wise it is to keep silent while contesting for a championship based on talking.

AND the guy who can’t spell Christopher.

I can only expect so much!

Vinnie! Darius! ANYONE! Call it before the dude ragequits! I’m begging ya!

Go ahead take a seat in the front of the classroom, put on the dunce cap, and get ready to learn something. Prior to 1846, English rulers deprived the Irish of their land, their faith, their rights, and eventually even their right to live. These greedy, evil, maniacal, leaders thrived off the hard work of the Irish. They didn't earn the food they ate, they didn't pay for the land they occupied, and they had no God-given right to wield control over Irish lives. Did the Irish quit? Heck no they didn't quit! After 1846 they left the disease cover lands of Ireland in search of a new life in America. Were they greeted with open arms? NO! The same greedy, evil and maniacal leaders enslaved the Irish. The Irish worked the dangerous and dirty jobs nobody wanted. Did the Irish give up? HECK NO! They fought, crawled, and scratched their way to victory over their oppressors. Pretty soon it was the Irish who were in control of not only their property, rights, and faith but most importantly they gained control of their lives. Because the Irish are fighters and no matter what rich douche bag is trying to keep an Irishmen down it won't last for long.
Like so many from my family history, I am a fighter! I will not quit! When I stand up and speak up for myself it isn't because I'm being an attention whore it's because I am making it known that I will not be stuck sitting on the sideline. I didn't come here to be a spectator. I, Jon Brogan, a descendant of the Irish clan of O'Brogan from Northern Ireland and from the line of kings that ruled Northern Ireland for centuries, refuses to just sit back and do nothing. It's in my blood to battle! It's in my blood to resist! Go ahead call me another fat name, it seems like you've used everyone in the book and yet you have the audacity to call me unoriginal? Being oppressed by spoiled rich brats is nothing new to us Irish. Just like in 1922 when the Irish fought against the British forces and won their independence, I too am going to do whatever it takes to be victorious over you.

SNNNNNNNNNNNNNNNNNNNNNNNNNNNNNNNNNNNNNK

...how about the marshmallow perfume…

SNNNNNNNNNNNNNNNNNNNNNNNNNNNNNNNNNNNNNK

...its never too early for buttstuff, babe…

SNNNNNNNNNNNNNNNNNNNNNNNNNNNNNNNNNNNNNK

...please stop doing this whole “I want you to come back to UGWC but I also want you to do what’s best for you even though its, like, in complete opposition to one another” storyline that you are doing and I’ve hinted that I REALLY don’t like or appreciate, circumstances considering...

SNKKKKKKKKKKKKKKKKKKKK KKK KKK SNK!



Hmmm? Wha?

Oh shit!

I fell asleep!

Dude, I am SO sorry!

Like...shit! My bad!

But, hey, its not MY fault that it turns out that you voiced the onscreen cameo by Jigglypuff in the new Detective Pikachu movie! It’s not MY fault that your greatest talent and special moves are sleep-based! It’s not MY fault that everyone got so bored of your dumbshit takes on what counts as riveting promotional work that they went to bed! And! AND! It’s also not MY fault that this match was axly awarded to me, like, seven responses ago because holy FUCK you are SO bad at this! Hell, you’re worse than TinyD! And HE cried about a fast count!

And! It’s not MY fault you suck so much that you’ve fallen into spending all of your time telling stories that don’t axly get around to being about me or this verbal contest, because you Pulled a Lux and blew all of your lukewarm juice in the first salvo! Its not MY fault that you are so desperate to throw up words on a screen that you have lost all sense of punctuation, pacing, and line breaks! Its not MY fault that, in the course of the evening, you have shown yourself to be a boring, feckless, uninspired child stalker looking for his next score by buying all the kids those gross ice cream bars with the shitty gumball that look NOTHING like the Ninja Turtle or Slimer or whatever they are meant to represent!

Its not MY fault that you, your promo capabilities, and your wrestling career ARE that gross ice cream bar with the shitty gumball!

Now, I WILL award and acknowledge you for that aforementioned cameo as everyone’s favorite puffy (read: fat) singing pokemon with verbal skills so shitty that they induce comas. However, I will NOT award you for saying, with a straight face and in the same sentence, that I showed how unoriginal I am when I busted out a PLETHORA of different and original ways to call you fat. So, I will spend the rest of my time, before they FINALLY call this lame-ass attempt at relevancy on your part, by mentioning OTHER names you would totes respond to:

Chunkers McTubba

Fattimus Maximus

Boston “Haven’t seen my toes in YEARS” Bomber

The Never Met a Donut He Didn’t Like Kid

John Pinette Look-a-Like Contest Winner Three Years Running

The editor of Huffing-and-Puffington Post

Patient Zero for the Dickie-Do disease.

The what, you say? The disease where your belly sticks out further than your dickie do!

It was the years of training under the legend Killer Kowalski that I learned just about every wrestling move known to man. In the beginning, I took my bumps and my bruises. I learned the hard way what not to do in the ring vs many different sized wrestlers whether they possess a great technical skill or very little. You remind me of midget wrestlers. You're like a tiny person with a mean bite. One of the most unforgettable experiences of my career was the time I squared off against the world famous midget wrestler Raymond Kessler. Boy was he a sneaky little devil. It's like trying to catch a chicken. Just when I thought I had him in my grasp that little punk managed to get free and kick me in the rear. Pretty soon after being embarrassed and kicked in the rear multiple times, you learn to not do the same thing over and over. I eventually got a hold of that little fellow & despite the fact that he was the most skilled midget wrestler in the world, I beat him at his own game I learned the hard way on how to deal with smaller opponents. Yes, I know the idea of a 6'7 380 lb wrestler bragging about beating a midget is hysterical. The point is, I have prepared myself night and day to combat any and all type of attacks While you're about to drift off to dreamland with your face covered in the most expensive face mask while sleeping on a bed that probably cost more than my house, I'm training. I'm preparing. I'm getting ready. I'm playing Chess while you're over here playing Checkers. You're not even in my league. While you continually get spoiled by your exotic vacations, expensive hotels, and thousand dollar menu items, I'm lifting. I'm studying, I'm working my butt off to be successful. I have been here a week & a half & I've already fought for 3 titles. I've made my presence known on Savage Saturday Night. You can't touch my work ethic! I'm a worker. Look no further than the fact that I'm still coming at you at 12 midnight. I know what you thought. You thought I was going to be some rookie jobber like all the other guys. Come in shoot a promo then walk away & quit. NOPE! In case you haven't caught that memo honey it's time to wake up and smell the coffee! I'm not going anywhere. I don't know the term burnout. I always finish what I start. Even if the wrestling gods don't smile upon me at this moment, just be sure that I'm always going to be coming for you. You better sleep with one eye open. You better use your money to buy more protection. I'm coming for you. I won't stop! I won't quit! I am your worst nightmare!

Wow this was a good one. One of the best in a while but there can only be one...

Winner AND STILL FEDERWEIGHT Champion - Sarah Lacklan