Did you ask your boys for the Prospector Pete line before you posted it? I mean fuck, I heard that joke the second the head shot came out. Was it Brunk or Colin? I forget.
Blowin’ up your DM’s looking for approval?
That was called CPR Mike. I was trying to resuscitate somethin’ that was great, somethin’ that was impressive. Hoping somehow, by sheer dumb luck I could show you where you went wrong. HAHAHAHA Your twitter was funny actually means: Hey dickhead, how about using the twitter for the benefit of HOFC. I tried the nice way Mike, the way everyone said works. I tried pumpin’ up yer little ego, jerkin’ ya off a little bit. Even remembered ta coddle the old testicles while I was doin’ it.
And fuckin’ nothin’. Next time Mike I won’t be subtle, now I know yer incapable of pickin’ it up.
Just like the last promo, nothin’ of fuckin’ substance. Ramblin’ and ravin’ ‘bout Scott Stevens like we’re the same fuckin’ person. Jesus Christ, I expected a lot more. Maybe somethin’ ‘bout the twang of my voice, ya know, playin’ the greatest hits. Maybe a Kostoff reference, that might have actually been funny. Yer material is more played out than Ace Of Base in 1993.
Have you seen the sign yet Mike?
Remember when you said ta me “I need you to be a champion.”
Ya know why? Because really, deep down, you and that ego of yours wanted nothin’ ta fuckin’ do with this. The only thing you took from that promo was ‘oh fuck he buried me.’ That was all that got through the bowling ball that sits on your shoulders.
It’s lazy Mike, it’s what ya are.
So yes, you need me ta be a fuckin’ champion of this division because yer not willin’ ta put in the effort ta make this division great.
It’s actually over, you should feel relieved, happy even. It’s what you actually want. I’m going to end yer pathetic existence at Refueled. Because we all know once you lose, once yer finished with yer little public meltdown. Once ya run off and suck Halkum’s dick ta see if he’d make a new fed fer ya. You and I both know you won’t be around.
Maybe Lee will drag ya out and feed ya ta some other guy in a few years, ya can cut one of those brilliant ‘I’ll put my career on it’ or ‘I’ll put my life on it’ promos ta escalate the stakes, because that’s the last thing you’ll have left of value in your half assed Muhammad Ali/Connor McGregor mashup bag of tricks.
You can be just like Scottywood at War Games. Dear old Dad can come to ya and say ‘son I think ya got one more run in ya, ya won’t win but you can do well ‘nough.’ And you’ll jump at the chance, lookin’ fer that one last little bit of glory. And you’ll probably get hit with a mace by some guy who looks like the lead singer of Poison.
I can’t wait for the end of this fuckin’ charade of yer petulant driveling ta be over so this division can have the champion it fuckin’ deserves. So yer boy Rob can be proud of what HOFC has become, instead of what you’ve made it. The image that you’ve created it in.
Half assed, boring, lazy, shit.
Mike, I’m gonna finish the job I started in our first match. There’s no fizzling out, there’s no lack of material. I’m gonna put you down in the middle of that cage like the little lazy bitch you are.
Then, just to piss you off, just to get your fuckin’ goat, I’m goin’ ta make the HOFC fuckin’ matter. It won’t be some horse shit that gets thrown together out of random matchmaker simulator 9000. The fights will actually main event pay per views and shows because they deserve the fucking billing, not because Mike Best begged and pleaded with Daddy for a match.
This is your come to Jesus moment Mike. Remember that time we talked ‘bout ya usin’ lines from our favorite kids movie? When we talked ‘bout Hook? I’m the little fat kid askin’ Peter Pan ta fuckin’ play, and if yer not gonna do it, then I’ll take the golden fuckin’ sword and handle it myself.
I mean I’ve already done more to make this division interesting in a single day, than you have since March To Glory.