I don’t know what I was thinking listening to Dooze.
Revitalize. Rejuvenate. Reworstcallever.
Do I hate him for dragging me back here? Do I loathe his existence for leaving me in this position yet again? No. I do not. Truth be told, I wanted to come back. I wanted to ride around on a white horse and shower the people in shell and yolk.
We just never got going. We just never found our footing.
Maybe we were burnt coming in. Maybe we were distracted.
Maybe if you can’t focus all of your attention on High Octane then survival is bleak, and we of all people should’ve known that.
Even though it is late…
I speak for all of the Bandits when I say sorry for wasting your time yet again.
You deserve better.
I don’t even know what to say.
Same song. Same dance.
I guess check off another year the Bandits abandoned ship.
Is it too late to play the consistency card? I mean, in a way we are reliable in the fact that we are unreliable.
That’s got to count for something.
Well, at least we made it past Chaos 13 this time around. And we managed to help put to bed the “unkillable” monster. Fuck, we even snuck in a tag title win somehow. Sure, we haven’t won an actual match yet. And Fred is dead. And Bobby is in the wind. Still though, compared to some of our other jousts in High Octane it wasn’t a bad run.
Sadly, more so unsurprisingly, it just wasn’t a very good one, either.
Regret comes over easy for a Bandit.
Screw Clay Byrd, and the cow he rode in on.