Blue Balls

Blue Balls

Posted on February 4, 2021 at 4:46 pm by Clay Byrd

Ya know, I was waiting fer ya ta grab that last low hanging fruit. I think the odds on a Kostoff comparison were at seven to one. Thank ya fer makin’ sure Las Vegas covered, yer father prolly almost had a fuckin’ heart attack. I mean the smart money was definitely on it. Cause we all know yer ‘bout as predictable as the sun risin’ in the east and settin’ in the west.

Oh and there’s the boogie man reference, this time we spun it with some Friday the Thirteenth bullshit. No wonder Max Kael was able to play ya like a fuckin’ fiddle. Makin’ the same mistake over and over again is the way Mike Best goes through life. It’s pretty typical fer a man with yer self esteem levels ta succumb ta, especially with yer history of trauma. Yer predisposition is ta be a dipshit, it’s okay Michael. What miracle the lord performed for ya ta learn how ta throw a knee is absolutely awe inspirin’. Makes partin’ The Red Sea look like some second rate Criss Angel shit. 

By the way, don’t call that number I gave ya last time, it’ll be a waste of money. They’ll just say the same thing yer mother said ta ya after she gave up hope, “Mikey, I can’t help yer kind of fuckin’ stupid.”

See, I don’t have ta come on here and talk ‘bout how dangerous I am anymore. Everyone should of figured that one out by now. I think most of ‘em started figurin’ it out when I left John Sektor layin’ in the middle of a cage suckin’ his thumb. Yer stubborn though, yer a believe it when I see it guy. That’s perfectly fine because I get it Mike, you’ve had yer run of the place. Yer unfuckingtouchable, yer unstoppable, ya haven’t lost in a cage in nine thousand days. I see where all the bullshit self esteem boosting fake confidence comes from. 96 other big dumb Texans before me have came and had their names written somewhere on the list of people Mike Best destroyed. I see the pattern, it’s well defined. Yer a legitimate fuckin’ killer, ya murdered yer brother, you’ll do whatever it takes fer a victory. But see, every winnin’ streak has an end, nobody goes on forever. The 1972 Dolphins didn’t go out and run the table the next year. Everyone makes a mistake Michael, and you’ve already made yer fair share of ‘em in yer career. 

Yer not invincible bud. None of us are, and that’ll be yer down fall. Just like a former politician, ya pump yerself up with half truths and lies, and ya keep repeatin’ them ta yerself every week. Eventually, ya start ta believe the shit that comes out of yer own mouth. Ya begin ta weave yer own narrative of delusions in yer head. Ya actually believe you’ve earned everythin’ you’ve ever gotten in this place. In yer mind ya trounced Dan Ryan, and yer the conquering fuckin’ hero. Yer Cortes against the Aztecs, triumphant, they’ll name cities after ya and hold fuckin’ parades. 

But that’s yer delusion Mike, really yer the petulant brat whose own father decided ta give him his way. Could ya have potentially beat Dan Ryan straight up? Sure, ya could have. Ya could have let the man figure out his situation, take the moment ta come to his senses. But instead, ya pounced, and now you’ll always be that guy who is the beneficiary of the chaos yer father puts ‘round ya. Ya benefit from Lee’s sickness ta meddle in everyone’s affairs, I don’t blame ya fer it, it’s the hand ya were dealt.

But see my own father didn’t meddle in mine. He let me win and lose on my own, taught me hard lessons, raised me ta be a man. The man taught me a lot, I watched his battles with idiots just like yerself. See Mike, yer gonna take yer chance, take yer shot, line up these big knock outs like ya do. Yer lookin’ fer that highlight reel finish. Yer a dangerous feller, a fuckin’ killer. Like I said earlier though, just like the sun risin’ in the east Mike. The entire time you’re brain will be spinnin’ the only way it knows how. Yer balls will start ta tingle, yer ass cheeks will clench up, you’ll be ready and rearin’ fer that explosion. Right then Mike, right then is when I’m gonna be puttin’ ya ta sleep.