Droopy Dog

Oh so we’re gonna make fun of the way I talk now. Cool. Cool cool cool. Since that’s on the table, I guess it’s alright for me to take a swipe at your lazy fuckin’ eye, or the fact that you might have Bell’s Palsy. It would explain your droopy ass headshot on HOW’s website, at least, I dunno.

You forget your sunglasses that day, big guy, or did you decide you wanted to be big and brave for the camera? I guess if half your face is paralyzed, it gives the rest of your body a head start when it catches up come Saturday night, right?

Oh, I know what you’re gonna say, Dan: Johnny Dorn’s got jokes; he should’ve been a comedian. More of the same from the shitstain who’s a nothin’ and a nobody. Big mouthed check writer, ass can’t cash it. Must be opposite day today, because what’s really gonna happen is I’m gonna cave his whole fuckin’ face in and have him lookin’ like a moon crater when it’s all said and done.

Sound about right? Am I close?

Let me go ahead and color in another square on my Dan Ryan Bingo Card, because it’s more of the same from you, too. You’re gonna kick my ass. You’re gonna hurt me. You maimed some dudes. You’re real good at what you do. What else you got for me, ‘cuz I’m real close to fillin’ in a row here.

I get it, though. You can’t stand me because I don’t share the same attitude as you. Damn kid with my rap music and my makeout parties. You are a VERY SERIOUS WRESTLER MAN and I’m the schmuck with the punchable face who doesn’t take life all that serious.

I’m sorry, did I offend your delicate sensibilities?

So what if I like to have fun, Dan? So what if I like to keep it light? That a crime? You gonna call Five-Oh on me because ol’ Jay-Dee didn’t look like he was BOUND AND DETERMINED enough for you in the lead-up to Refueled? You remember what having fun is like, don’t you, back in the day when you used to run around pushing a wooden hoop with a stick while Momma Ryan churned butter and Daddy Ryan chopped wood for the wintertime?

I may keep it light, but bell to bell I’m all business, bro.

Yeah, I don’t have your resume, but everyone’s gotta start somewhere, don’t they? You cut your teeth the same way I’m doin’, big talkin’ and big walkin’, so don’t act like you don’t know what I’m about, like you weren’t a cocky rookie sonofabitch from the jump, and like you didn’t keep that same energy right along ‘til today.

You can think you did it better, and that’s fine. Every sociopath fancies themselves indestructible, don’t they?

I’m out here to do it better than you did back in the nineties, and every match I get, every hype piece I cut, I get a little bit closer to that goal. And you don’t need to worry, not that I expect you to anyway, but the way I’ve been handlin’ my business has suited me just fine. It’s gotten me a nice lil’ streak, and more than enough heads turnin’ in my direction. There hasn’t been a match in the DeNucci Cup that I haven’t taken seriously, despite what you may think, and despite facin’ a bubble-blowin’ clown and a glorified manakin from Project Runway.

They made the mistake of only lookin’ at the party boy, Captain of the Bro Brigade, image too.

The way I see it, Dan, you’re made up of the same blood, guts and bones as Shawn Warstein and Devin Desean, and I bet you’ll fall just as nicely as they did. Ain’t gonna be easy though, since that fuckstain Desean made sure my ribs are gonna be a big, glarin’ target for you, but once you get to this stage powerin’ through is part of the game.

I’ll do anything I gotta do to walk out of the Best Arena with my ticket punched to the Final Four. And I’ll do it knowing that I’m in this business for my own enjoyment, and that I don’t have anything to prove to you or anyone else.

Only thing I gotta do is put you down and out on Saturday night.