Please, tell me I’m wrong Mike. And no, not talking about the Hooters waitresses you drool over on the internet, only to drive to the next state’s Hooters and then realize none of those women would ever actually work as a waitress.
You’ve shot your load early… just like I bet ya did when whatever ogre told ya the words…
You’re a Best Michael!
Bet you lost your shit when you came to HOWarts and started sticking your dick in every cloaca you saw in Lee’s owlery. That’s an owl’s all purpose shit, piss and fuck hole I know you all too familiar with you sick… sick bird fucker.
So now I get the last words… and I can pretty much say whatever I want… and just like Saturday, you’re gonna have to sit there and take it.
Cause maybe I shock the fuck out of you in that cage and bring the Scottywood who crucified a fucker for the LSD Title… or stabbed James Ranger in the eye for a reason I can’t even remember. That or maybe come Saturday you can’t understand serving sizes again and are tripping all the balls to the point where you can’t even “kickfuck” me. Instead you’ll just be drooling in the corner and wondering if your foot is even connected to your body. At least that would explain you not remembering I WAS “a real dumb motherfucker with a clown head” that USED to “look like Ron Weasley”.
In your own stellar judge of people that is.
The same judgement of character that thought it was a solid idea to take a cruise with a fucking lightweight man-child. That’ll certainly make The List of dumb choices in your life.
Oh, and don’t ever laugh about my joke of an NGW HOF ring again after your sham induction at OCW’s. But I know you enjoyed every moment of that, steamrolling everyone and grabbing easy win after easy win and padding that insatiable ego of yours.
Thought maybe I’d start losing steam Mike? You must have forgotten all of your own shit that you dropped over the course of your HOW career for me to shovel back in your face. Shit that most here will just jam their face in and tell you how gourmet it is. They would never dare criticize a single fecal particle in fear of you “utterly destroying” them.
You’re looking for a Scottywood who is not afraid to die in that cage to win the HOFC title? What the fuck do you think any form of Scottywood in the past year has anything worth wanting to live for? This Mike is the Scottywood who gives the least fucks about how he exits this match.
And being a whiny bitch? Before this week I’ve not brought my shit to any of your cuntsticks, because I know no one in HOW truly gives a fuck about it… or me. I’ve never been part of the inner circles, even though I… like others who get dunked on every fucking day… bleed HOW more than any of you could ever imagine. I was trying to deal with everything. Maybe drinking a bit too much. Maybe I’ve been a fucking mess.
So you thought this was the time to choose me as your first defense? Knowing everything going on with me. Like this was the BEST choice there was… the only choice you could ever make. Fuck you Mike… you lying sack of fucking shit. We all know you were Best Betting on this being a fucking squash so you could shovel my head from my body and claim you were the one that finally killed Scottywood after twelve years.
Sorry to kill your boner… nope, sorry, you again already shot your fucking load.
Someone’s gonna run back to their husband real fast… faster than you…
HOOO HOOO HOOO
Hold Mike back! He’s trying to grab that owl by the cloaca!
He’d wig… out hard if he can’t get his dick… does a cloaca even get wet? Don’t think I ever wanna know the answer to that. Imagine they’ll put me on some kind of owl offenders list with Mike. It’s bad enough all the fucking twitter shit storms and radio shows he’s dragged me down into. Don’t need to get tangled in his feathered fetishes too.
Avada Kedavra Mike… and don’t be surprised when there are no tears from your “friends”. As if you would even give a fuck though.