K, you’re pissing me off.
First, I didn’t pack extra lives. This is a one and done tournament. I’m not an idiot.
Second, this IS a game! A game where I trash talk and then strategize on how I’m gonna inflict violence… you know, what you like to do. If that isn’t fun Mortal Kombat Finish Him style shit then after the bell tolls and MY hand is raised, I will reach into your chest, pull out that tiny, pathetic beating heart and stomp all over it. ‘Cause yeah, death is green lit in HOW… so don’t push me, dude.
Lastly, you’re saving me from Mike Best? Why thank you, I appreciate the sentiment. What a super amazing thing you’re going to do for me! Such a thoughtful guy, aren’t you? Or you know what… why don’t YOU worry about YOU and I’LL worry about ME.
The notion you can play Hand of God here and protect me from someone else is astonishing hot garbage, making you sound like an arrogant prick who has the right to dictate what path I should/shouldn’t take.
You’re not my mother… but you certainly sound like her. Blah, blah, blah.
Why wouldn’t I want to battle the Ultimate Boss? I didn’t sign up for Easy Mode. How about we take this 1 level at a time because I’ll cross that bridge, I’ll play that game when it comes to it. Right now, we’ve got each other to deal with so don’t get ahead of yourself.
But that’s what you do, Mr. Hollywood. You continue to get ahead of yourself. You’re overlooking your biggest obstacle. A gamer, a kid, who’s gonna pop you so square in the jaw, you’ll remember you’re not in that era anymore… you know, the era you were on top of. This is a different game and one you can’t play.
One shot to make your mark, Mr. Hollywood.
I gotta say though, you proved me wrong. You got up early enough for round one… my Game Boy batteries didn’t die! Initially, I was getting worried, there’s only so many times I can beat Tetris. Then again, I use Energizer batteries. They go on and on and on and on. Like me.
I digress, it doesn’t matter if you got up for this fight. Imma drill you so hard, you’ll end up thinking you’re Scott Stevens. Come to think of it… you’re not too far off from his skill level. After all, you two reached the top of the mountain around the same time and then both jumped the (game) shark thereafter.
Can you finish me off or am I in for a rude awakening? Last I checked, I’m not backing down. I pushed myself to sign up for this tournament without even KNOWING it was possible for me to show anger. You say I lack killer instinct but buddy, you sure do make it easy to wake up on the angry side of my AI. Real easy.
I see your face and those stupid looking Hollywood tights and I want to end your game. People say gamers have a bad reputation for being weak little bitches, hiding behind their controllers but I swear to you Mr. Hollywood, you’ve got wannabe A-List celebrity who’s living in a C-List physique with Z-List talent written all over you.
At least I come by myself honestly. My name isn’t Conor Nintendo. Can you even define who you are to me in 1-2 sentences without the normal run-of-the-mill generic garbage you spouted off?
I get it. You desire violence. You desire pain. Well then you’re gonna love the mental torment that comes along with being booted TF outta round 1.
You want to throw down with the best of them? I may not be the Ultimate Boss but I’m certainly a step up from the recent BOT-shit-show you’ve faced. Make no mistake, I’m a gamer, I’m a kid. I’m a punk-ass-bitch. And when you lose to me, I’ll even tell you you’re welcome because I will be saving you from a beating in round 2.
In fact, why wait? Hey Mr. Hollywood…
Take this Hard L as an opportunity to go reboot yourself in the process.
Godspeed my little goomba. Try not to commit video game suicide by walking off the edge of the rampway on your way to the ring.