I can’t compete with you Mike.
Time to pack it in and go home.
Lee just texted me and told me the match was canceled and I can go home. He’s like Duke telling Rocky to throw in the towel before I’m put out of my misery.
Mother fucker please.
You may be tired and exhausted of me, but I’m sick and tired of all the bullshit that is Michael Lee Best. I, myself, am tired and exhausted of having to pick up the fucking slack and of busting my ass behind the scenes whenever your sensitive ego is fucking bruised and you fuck off to wherever you go when it isn’t all about you anymore.
Imagine if it was me or Scottywood who did the same things you’ve done. We return…and nobody even makes the tiniest show of appreciation for your efforts.
How would you have handled it?
We both know the answer. You’d deflate your ball, pack it up real nice, and proceed to throw a tantrum my son would be jealous of.
Me? I just shrugged and got on with it. I have spent my entire HOW career outworking self-centered assholes like you.
However, when I do something wrong I’m publicly humiliated over and over for everyone’s enjoyment.
Just shut the fuck up. Please.
My ears are bleeding from the same fucking dribble you’ve been saying for five promos now.
Michael, you’re a pathological liar and everyone knows it, but you’ve been lying so much you can’t tell which the truth is anymore. You did pitch me an idea for a stint at FiveTime Academy to help me focus, find direction, and rebuild me. You say I scoffed at the idea and you’re full of shit. In fact, I accepted your offer and you were supposed to be my manager/trainer. I’d hit you up almost daily to bounce ideas back and forth and you told me you were too busy. After a few weeks of hearing the same message I got the hint. You had no intention of helping me. You feigned interest and friendship all while lying to my face because that’s what you do. Maybe I would take constructive criticism better from Mike Best if I was in Project Ego, a GOD, or an eMpire because then I’ll know he is telling the truth for once.
You can bury me all you want and I don’t care anymore.
Call me cringy.
Call me trash.
Call me weak.
Call me not good, but the fact is I’m good enough to beat you.
You’re right, I fell into the trap of milking my victory over you for a time, but you act like you fucking made me. Please, I was made in HOW a long time ago and beating you in 2015 was just the icing on the cake. You say in 10 years I have only defeated you once, and that’s your half of the story. In those 10 years we have faced each other less than five times in singles competition. Ever since I came to HOW from LPW I had been calling you out but never got you until almost five years later. And when we finally faced off I beat you.
Why did it take five years before our first encounter?
Why so many times in the last few years?
While I was tearing through the Best Alliance you’re too busy with Evan Ward and Professor Keller? However, when I’m at my lowest of lows and kneed to be punished you’re more than happy to deliver it aren’t you? When I’m at my best you don’t want anything to do with me. I have beaten every Hall of Famer, legend, and scrub put before me being good enough. While you’re the ever evolving chameleon I’m the same old boring Texan I’ve been since 2011.
You keep bringing up 5 to 3 and that you couldn’t give a fuck to max out then so why do you give a fuck now? Are you scared your first 3 promos can’t beat my shitty 5 especially after you called Hortega a racial slur? Or is it that you do give a fuck and you don’t want any lingering doubts.
I’ll tell you this Michael.
I’m going to get on your dad’s boat and head to Tokyo and kick your ass so hard that the next Rob Michael’s wannabe is going to feel it.
See you at War Games, bitch.