Never fucking thought I’d be back in this shithole.
But here I am, about to go balls deep in this DeNucci Cup. Sadly, this shit ain’t named after Dallas Cowboys one-time starting quarterback Ben DiNucci or I’d at least be mildly excited. Let’s just get this straight, I ain’t here to win the cup for glory or to honor someone’s legacy or any of that shit. I’m here for one reason and one reason only… to fucking disgrace every member of the HOW locker room.
Because I’m here to fuck over every last one of you all with an AIDs encrusted machete.
I walked away from this company because I didn’t want to deal with the brown-nosing bullshit it takes to do anything here. ‘Want to be on TV, Simon? Just make sure to wipe when you’re done sucking off a blind old man.’ This place is nothing but a bunch of fucking cucks, and you, Bobby Dean, might be the biggest one of them all. Don’t believe me, Bobby? You’ve been here for what a year… longer? Shit, not that it matters to anyone in HOW how loyal you have been to this company. Take a look at our bracket. Jason Cashe and Hudson Hughes get the first round bye? How long have either of those two been in HOW? How many matches have those two won in HOW combined? You already know the answer. The reason why that’s true is the better answer… because that blind old fucker that runs things? Thinks you’re a worthless pile of shit, Bobby. He wouldn’t piss on you to put the flames out even if you were holding the cure to blindness.
I walked away from this, Bobby. You went out and invested in much more comfortable Tommie Copper Fit knee pads. Do you still want more proof? I haven’t been seen since September and I’m still higher ranked than you. Jesus Christ Bobby, buy a fucking clue already. But you’re not the only one around here like that, you’ve just got the biggest floppy tits of them. God, the thought of getting in the ring with you and you swinging those fucking flaps around with all that extra skin? Fuck, I’m grossed out thinking about it.
Since you’re used to doing people favors around here Bobby. Would you at least do me the courtesy of borrowing one of my girlfriend’s bras? She’s got big titties too, they’re probably perfect for you. Extra comfortable shoulder straps. Then when I’m done with your worthless ass, I’ll even let you keep it. Even swap. You get the bra and I get to carve off some of that extra skin of yours to make some extra tasty pork belly bacon. Shit man, you’ve got so much fucking skin dangling off your bones that you’re going to force Buffalo Bill to open an illegal sweatshop.
Bobby, you are all but a small speed bump on my way to winning the DeNucci Cup. I hope there’s an actual cup too, not just some championship belt bullshit. Because I’ve been training like crazy for that moment when I come face to face with the cup… a lethal combination of P.F Changs and Taco Bell for when they present that cup to me I’m going to lower my drawers and let out the mother of all shits right there in the middle of the ring. But wait, I’m not just going for size, I’m also going for smell. Because I want the aroma to reach God himself up there in his skybox in the Best Arena. I want him to gag and choke at the exact same time you are Bobby. They’ll throw it up on the big screen for the crowd to see.
And then as the Chicago crowd turns their eyes up towards that skybox and begins to chant “Lardass!” over and over, God is going to barf all over the members of the Best Alliance. Mayor Grundy will barf on his wife’s tits. She’ll barf down onto the crowd, which will make kids barf on their parents. Even the Benevolent Order of Antelopes will get barfed on and they probably live in Maine. And me? Well, I’ll just sit back and enjoy what I created, a complete and total barf-o-rama! Living out my one true fantasy.
But even in all that chaos, you’ll still finish the old man off Bobby. I hold no doubt.
You’re just that big of a cuck.