Hello again, High Octane.
Connor Fuse’s hero.
The righteous eggsecutioner of the eGG Bandits. AKA, your favorite eGG Bandit. Well, the skinniest one. And definitely not the oldest one. And for sure the COOLest. And the most decorated. And the most IMPORTANT, of the least important. And the one with the best chest tattoo. And the one who is least likely to get arthritis. And also the one with the lowest blood pressure.
Okay, that last one was a lie.
But yes. It is me. Yes, me. That guy. King COOL. The one. I am back. I have returned. As they say internationally, “the big boat is once again in yolky water.” I’ll have you know I didn’t come back as a savior. Or lynch pin, Or anchor. Or because I wanted to. I hated it here when I left. I still do.
HOWever, Doozer needed me.
We are Bandits.
So here I am.
Jamming out to Wolf Totem.
Watching the Old Boston Bull turn back the clock.
While opening the show at some VFW.
I must say I never thought I would be back here, in this space specifically. Maybe for a legend show that needed a proper egg crashing to fill in for a HOF no show. Outside of that I thought me and HOW were done for. Finished.
I guess I was wrong.
I guess the PWA came rolling around.
I guess it was only inevitable that world’s collided.
I guess Pop needed them bandits.
Some things never change.
That said, and incase any of you were wondering:
I still got the T-Shades to block out the Son. I still got the perfect hair. I still got the hottest jumpsuit game on the block. I still got the MASTER set of keys to the USS Octane. I still got YOLKS by the DOZEN. I still got Laser ready to dive in front of a bullet if need be. I still got Steve Solex’s number on the bottom of my salt white shoes. I still got Harry’s number saved in my phone. I still go by the Breaker of Records. I still am a five time TAG TEAM CHAMPION OF THE WORLD. I still think there isn’t a person on this roster who could beat me. I still think Chicago is the worst run shit hole of epic proportions.
Oh, and just in case you thought that maybe I was dead, like Chris Kostoff is:
I still have nightmares about the Chaos run before this one.
I still hold a fucking grudge about it.
And if that wasn’t bad enough, but no it was terribly bad and no amount of therapy in Las Vegas can fix me:
I still remember Bobby Dean’s coma. I still remember being ahead of the curve on Danny Boy. I still remember getting a piece of cardboard over and being ahead of the curve of Danny Boy. I still remember being the Captain of THE BEST ALLIANCE FOR WAR GAMES and being ahead of the curve on Danny Boy. I still remember HATING that French idiot RICK and who asked me to take him in. I still remember Scott Stevens’ weird hair fetish and being thankful his taste was so poor that I didn’t have to worry about it. I still remember when Scotty had pizza topping nipples. I still remember Mike and Hollywood sharing a corvette. I still remember falling ass backwards into the biggest victory of my life. I still remember looking like a 97million dollar bill with that red strap around my waist.
Plus the tights to match.
I still remember a lot of things.
We’ll get to them later.
For now, I just want to say HOW happy I am to be opening the show.
I remember when I looked over the card, and thought it was upside down.
Early night as they say.
Oh, and good thing the place has been thriving in my absence.
I was so happy to see shit all over the walls.
It made me feel like I never left.