Recently, like in the last hour, Cancer Jiles sent the following messages to High Octane HQ in Hell.
The first message simply read,
The message is rumored to be authenticated by noted High Octane historian, Cecilworth J Farthinton, this Saturday night, during Refueled, inside Cancer’s backyard.
Soon thereafter, Hell received another message from the greatest Tag Team Competitor in High Octane history, even greater than Mario who was in a stable with Cecilworth. The message was not centered due to Brian Hollywood claiming copyright infringement, and had a watermark of Max Kael in a Vlad Tempest cosplay.
“It was the closest thing to Dracula.” — The sticky note attached to the envelope that message two arrived in.
The second message was much longer. It didn’t say who it was directed at but one could guess it was intended for Cecilworth Farthington.
“He’s going to have to kill me, and he can’t. He doesn’t have the do it in five seconds or less attitude it takes to put me down. Well, not unless he bought a gun and named it Aritcle 50, because that’s the only way he’s going to be able to put me down. If he shoots me. Multiple times. Of course, with bean bags because we are friends away from the ring.”
A third message was written on the back of the envelope message two arrived in. There was a sticky note instructing Hell to read it last.
“And there is no way, and I mean absolutely no way I leave on a stretcher. Not there, not against him, not now, not ever. I don’t care if he breaks every bone in my body. I’ll no sell that shit like he did my accomplishments and dance a fucking jig on my way to the back like the whole fucking thing is one giant pyramid scheme.”
Finally, a paper airplane flew into the bowels of Hell where High Octane HQ is located. The fourth message of Cancer Jiles was written on it.
After is was unfolded, it said,
“Of course, all of this is moot since I will not lose in my own backyard. I mean, for Christ sakes, the poor guy hasn’t Main Evented a match since he faced me last time. Me on the other hand, well I don’t have enough fingers to count how many main events I’ve been in since then. That’s not to say I don’t respect his accomplishments from yesteryear, I do. I’m just not really expecting much from him.”
A final message in video form, a Cameo to be exact with an unknown price tag, arrived in Hell. The video was of Cancer Jiles. He was sitting on his red chair, ascot tied around his forehead like he was Rambo Farthington himself. He didn’t say anything in the short video, just released his signature deafening cackle, and then blew whoever it was intended for a kiss good night.
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