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Jesus H. Christ
Sometimes winning feels like a shit coming out sideways in this business. All the effort in the world and just a small little reward. That was Bobby Dean round one. I’m going to give it up to the fat bastard, he made me almost go maximum effort. However, just as I felt that vein in my forehead begin to twitch and rumble all that extra skin flopping around made him just a little too tired to keep up with me and bam! I move onto round two. Round two of four-thousand or something.
Some strain. But only a small reward so far.
I’m just inching one teeny-tiny step closer to my goal of turning this tournament into the greatest all time backfire for Lee Best in the history of HOW. Other than signing Scott Stevens to a contract.
As I see it, I still have plenty of straining to go before I finish this log off.
“I’m checking Instagram, right now hon.”
Not log off Instagram, Missy. Log as in… nevermind.
Where was I?
And it’s that struggle that makes us tougher in the end, isn’t it? The struggle I had against Bobby Dean is only going to propel me into round two of five thousand that little bit much better than I was before. Ain’t that rig– oh wait, I forgot Xander had no struggle. But you got handed Hannibal Frost first round and all you had to do was show up to win. What’s the old quote? Iron sharpens iron. Hannibal Frost was nothing more than a ragdoll, buddy. Sure, you got the victory but you weren’t tempered at all in battle.
No, no wait. You were in some sort of Siberian death prison match or something like that. I’m sure it’s out there on YouTube for the world to see and not completely made up. Did Vladimir Putin sign off on that one personally? I’m dying for the details.
Simon makes the slow jerk motion, no eye contact. Them’s the rules.
But hey, you don’t have to make things up to impress me in this back and forth we’re about to have. Hell, all of those names you were dropping couldn’t pick me out of a line-up. Don’t feel like you have to inflate your stats to a complete nobody like me. Level with me here, maybe you just like taking the easy path?
There’s nothing wrong with liking the easy path. To be honest, it’s half the reason I’m still with Missy.
“Were you talking to me?”
Nope, not at all.
Where was I?
Take the easy path Xander, don’t you worry. Like when you’re wrapping that belt around your neck, have two of your Eternal Circle members hold your legs instead of just having the one recommended spotter. I’m not about to judge about how much you choke yourself for Eris or whatever you call your penis.
But remember, there’s a little bit more reward in the risk and effort. Maybe you don’t know this because it’s impossible to lose a game of “I win”, but if you would just lose one of the Eternal Circle spotters one time you might find that I’m right. That the struggle is better than making up a history of having flaming thumbtack matches while the tables are covered in herpes infested razor blades doesn’t make you tougher. Or that calling yourself the head chaos whatever while putting on your clown shoes doesn’t make you intimidating.
I’m right in the sense that only iron sharpens iron.
Who am I to say? We’ll find out on Saturday night how tough you are.
“I think it’s whom, hon.”
Regardless.
I still have my suspicions that you’re going to prove to be nothing compared to the effort I had against Bobby Dean. Hell, you might be nothing more than a brown stream. Sure, I’m not going to have to put the effort in on moving on to the next round, but I’m going to have to make sure I don’t end up getting shit all over my balls.
I hope that you’re not such a big waste of my time that I don’t get even a fraction of a bit better as I move into round three of one million. Because if I make it to round three and lose, I’ll come looking for both you and your followers and I will damn sure lace the Kool-Aid. Don’t disappoint me, Xander. Because wouldn’t that make for some serious chaos?