Steve, quick question, if you don’t mind.
Why the fuck do you think I’m a farmer?
This is the second time you’ve made some weird ‘crops dying in the field’ reference. Is that supposed to be some kind of metaphor that you’re just too clumsy to make sense of? I’m just really trying to wonder why you think I’m growing corn and wheat on my cattle ranch. I’m wondering why, when you were sitting around thinking of clever things to attack me with, you settled on ‘he is a bad farmer’. Why not chicken rancher? Maybe my chickens are dying in the field. Why not a vintner? Maybe my family’s wine is bitter and the grapes are turning to raisins in the sun, a reference you aren’t smart enough to get because it would require you to have culture and a brain.
If you said I let my cows die in the field, or they were made into substandard hamburgers… it wouldn’t exactly be the sort of scintillating trash talk that would really put me in my place, but at least it would have some basis in truth.
And didn’t you bring up my marriage? Why are we talking about my marriage, you ask? It’s because you brought it up, you nitwit. You: ‘HAHA failed marriage, HEADSHOT’. Me: ‘I wanted that marriage to fail.’ You: ‘I don’t care about your marriage! Why are you talking about that, OMG!’ Yeah, maybe she is hiding from me. I don’t know. I don’t really care. That’s the great thing about divorce. I legally don’t have to give a shit where she is or what she’s doing.
What’s some other inconsequential thing we can talk about? Would you like to discuss my favorite color?
Look, I know it doesn’t feel good when someone points out how dumb you are. I’m very sorry for the mean, awful, accurate things I’ve said. And I know it seems like I’ve been recycling some things because I’ve happened to face a lot of dumb people lately. Believe me, I’m getting tired of it myself. But what am I supposed to think of a person who makes up random things out of thin air, who obviously hasn’t paid attention to anything I’ve said or done in the last year and change, and whose attempts at shit talk are relegated to the sort of random foolishness that you’d hear on an elementary school playground? Do you come up with this shit while drunk, like Scottywood? What? Am I supposed to talk you up, tell you how impressed I am by your amazing five or six-match winning streak last year? I mean… okay, I guess. Good job. Well done. You beat absolutely no one of consequence, never won a championship or anything, and lost as soon as you ran into better competition, but good going. Is that the validation you wanted, Steve? I don’t think of you as some goof. I just don’t think of you as particularly talented or clever. There’s a difference. Darin Matthews is a goof. You’re just mediocre. You should probably be working on your sales pitch to Zeb Martin to make you his partner, so you can have a chance to get some gold around your waist finally. Or maybe not, since both tag champions have already beaten you clean.
And you don’t have to describe every intimate detail about yourself so you can give a bulleted rebuttal to shit talk, Steve. For the love of God, I don’t give a fuck if you’re actually a villain. I don’t give a fuck about anything else about you. There’s no need to repeat yourself. I ignored you just fine the first time.
But here are some facts, Harrison. If I were to erase everything I’d done in the past twenty-five years, and even if I erased everything but just the last six months of my career, my track record in this sport and in this type of scenario would still vastly outshine yours. And the scary truth that you’re about to find out, is that all of the stuff you’ve heard about me is a lie. I’m actually way worse. I don’t have to talk about it, because I’ve done it, right there on television, right in front of the world, right in front of the boss, right in front of you, if you ever paid attention to anything.
Being here isn’t the same as belonging here. Get it?
You talentless fuck.