whyte literally gets a boot stuck in tommy’s ass, donkey punches him and then pins

well well well if it ain’t TOMMY if-my-mother-had-one-WISH-it’d-be-she-lost-her-balance-on-a-flight-of-stairs-while-you-were-in-utero

just so you know, im only doing this so fuzz will grow a pair and come get this work. nothing personal

how’s it feel knowing you’re just a placeholder and you won’t be able to survive one single defense? you’re not getting up from this, just close your eyes and think of simpler times like when you were younger and couldn’t understand why your little pants got tighter every time you saw Bob Vila handling all that lumber and flashing his million dollar smile.

it always amazes me that in a place with some very capable wrestlers, opportunistic parasites like you manage to hang around longer than chris page’s welcome back party. what do you even do here? lob insults from the hallway while you’re glued to the catering table? id rather faceplant into a steaming pile of dogshit than watch you rack your brain trying to come up with a halfway coherent sentence.

G-rated XWF megastar.