Reality?… It’s Twisted… And I HATE It

Reality?… It’s Twisted… And I HATE It

Posted on December 16, 2020 at 11:55 pm by Scottywood

The following game, ICONIC 2020, is rated M for Beg Motherfucker, Beg.

Wait, wouldn’t that be BMFB?

Shouldn’t you shut the fuck up and let me just start things?  Fucking eh!

You’re telling yourself to shut the fuck up?  Stellar dude… and Fuse thinks he’s the fucker going crazy?

That’s his own damn fault… dude!  That noob has no idea what he has gotten himself into here in HOW.  He’s playing right into my plan.  A barbed wire rope hardcore match… I’m going to murder him… literally…

Easy there, Mike Best will slap ya with a gimmick infringement suit.

Fucking Mike….

Plus how well did having Hughie play right into your plan at Rumble at the Rock?  Where is your LSD Title?

Ok, if you don’t shut the fuck up and let me rant then I am going to…

Going to do what?  Beat yourself up?  You’ve done a good enough job of that already over the past decade plus in HOW.  I mean seriously… you’re one stray shot to the head away from being fucking vegemite.

You mean a vegetable?

No you fucking twat stain!  I mean fucking vegemite, that shit looking shit they spread of shit.  Because just like it does, you look like shit. 

Sure you don’t wanna shoot the shit while taking a shit on a shitty shitter?

Go on, crack some more fucking jokes.  Doesn’t change the fact you’ve been shit lately.  First you lose to Hughie in a match for the title you cherish more than anything in your pathetic fucking life except for maybe beer you drunken ass.  You beat some nobody, who cares, move on… and then you fall to High Flyer who Fuse was able to beat soon after.  So what in shits name makes you think you can beat this up and coming youngster at ICONIC?  He ain’t some nobody like Capone junior.

I know who the fuck Conor Fuse is… and I know just how much talent the motherfucker has!  Do you not have enough faith in me to know that I wouldn’t just hone in on a fucker just because I think it would be an easy win?  Sure, Capone was easy, but I never sought him out.  I stalked Fuse for weeks.  I’ve watched his match and I’ve learned all I can about the 8-bit boy wonder.  I have a reason for wanting to fight Fuse.  I have a fucking plan you vegemite lube using shitbag.

Again… you’re talking to yourself you fucking moron… so you’re just calling yourself…

And what about you?  You’re doing the same thing!

I’m not you… I’m your fucking inner thoughts.  Or something like that only Freud could probably understand.  So it doesn’t work the same dipshit.

Well you… me… we can all go fuck ourselves.  I don’t need to hear your fucking backseat commentary on what I’m fucking doing.

Well then what is your great master plan that in no way could fall flat on it’s fucking face again like your one for Hughie did.  Still time for Lee to throw you another curveball I’m sure and mess it all up…

Fuck Lee Best and his solitary confinement!  Months of fucking planning… HATE, RICK, Bandits, Lucian, Hughie… down the fucking drain!  All cause he thought he was being so fucking funny.  Has he seen me stick my fucking nose into his beef with Kostoff?  I mean I doubt that could have gone any worse for him… but the point is based on the principle!

Kostoff could have ripped off his dick… that wouldn’t been worse probably.

Touche, the man loves fucking over anyone he can see…

Clever.

Thanks.

Now how about this reason… this plan.

Well as i said, Fuse is one of the best young and upcoming stars in HOW right now.  With a win over a Hall of Famer at ICONIC… he’s poised for a shot at the LSD with ease.

You’re still obsessed with her aren’t you?

OF COURSE I AM! 

Ok so you think by beating Fuse it will put you in line for another chance at her… at Linds…

Don’t you mention that name!  That fucking whore who is sullying my woman with her touch!

You have fucking lost you’re shit…

I beat Fuse… I face Troy, Hughie, Harrison or even Big Apple Jacks himself.

Jatt… not Jack… or multiple Jacks…

I need to make a fucking statement at ICONIC.  That I am still on top of my shit despite everything around me going tits fucking up.  I’m going to prove that despite everything thrown that me, trying to make me fail, trying to knock me fucking out, that I can still take the shots and dish them back ten times fucking worse!

You think you can still take shots?  You think that head of yours isn’t more fragile than a Fabergé egg and scrambled like a chicken’s. 

The Bandits are dead… we can finally drop the lame ass fucking egg jokes in the fed… PLEASE!

Doesn’t change the fact that Humpty Dumpty is more fucking durable than you these days.

Luckily for me this match likely won’t come down to a blow for blow slugfest… but to who can lose the least amount of blood as the barbed wire shreds the fucking skin, muscle and fat from our bones. 

Oh that should be a solid for the fucking blood thinned alcoholic…

I fucking HATE you… you know that?  Why must you always be so fucking negative!  Why can’t you for just once just fucking agree with…

Cause maybe I’m here to give you some fucking facts you need so you don’t bleed out after getting your fucking thumb pricked five seconds into the match.  Maybe cut out the booze for a day… just a fucking day before your match and you might have a fucking chance.

I don’t need to be sober to have a fucking chance… I am The Hard…

You are a fucking alcoholic who despite solitary confinement I swear was still fucking drunk when those cell doors opened.  Do you even remember some of the shit you were rambling on about near the end?  Cause if you do I’d love to get a fucking interpretation of that shit.

Fine… I can maybe listen to some of the shit that is coming out of your… well wherever it is coming from.  After all… as you said… you are me… and I’m always right.

You’re always drunk… but at least your starting to get some of this shit through to your swiss cheese fucking head.

Seriously?  How many more brain jokes you got for me?

Enough to last until the remaining half of your brain is gone too… so don’t you worry.

Fucking cunt… whatever.  The focus needs to stay on Fuse and wrapping that fucker up in a barbed wire blanket of fucking DOOM before I FINISH HIM and it’s Game Misconduct for the ole blown out Fuse.

Done with your obligatory video game references to take shots at his lifestyle?

Lifestyle?  That’s quite the gimmicky name for an overgrown teenager.  But sure, I’m done.

Good, cause you’re luckily not playing him in anymore video games come ICONIC.  We all saw how he whooped your fucking ass on Refueled.

All I remember is a busted up PS5 in the middle of the ring…

Yeah, cause he then whooped your ass there too.

I don’t need any fucking reminders of my… of our failures!  Why don’t you take a bit of responsibility for this shit too?  Where the fuck were you to help me at Refueled?  Huh?  Where!

You weren’t anywhere fucking close to as drunk as you are now to summon me you dumbshit.  Do you even know where the fuck you are?  HOW much you have fucking consumed leading up to this match?  You tried to drown out reality with beer but no matter how far you dive towards the bottom of that bottle, I’ll always fine you.

You’re fucking reality?  So like some kind of moral compass trying to right me?

Don’t you even try to fucking lie to yourself.  You have zero fucking morals.  ZERO!  But I am reality and I am trying to get the remaining half of your head out of your own ass and into some kind of state that won’t totally embarrass yourself at ICONIC.  Too many times you have done that to yourself and look at the damage it has done.  You lost a spot in FUCKING WAR GAMES because you couldn’t get your shit together.

And what?  Have a Wonderful Life?

Don’t flatter yourself.  So many people would be better off if you were never born… or drown in a lake of beer… or however that dated and overused Christmas fucking story goes.

Go shoot your eye out you fuck.

Really?  In HOW?  You’re gonna make lost eye jokes?  Get your shit together or the next swerve Lee has for you will be a pen to the fucking eye.  Ask Frankie how that fucking feels.

Oh yeah… forgot about that.

You’re a horrible fucking father.

But I’m a great alcoholic.

That’s it… I’m out.  Try not to choke on your own vomit and if you awake from this bender before ICONIC… I just hope that Conor Fuse doesn’t totally fucking humiliate you.

And with that Scottywood learned the true meaning of… oh… fuck… now I think I need to puke.  Eh, that sounds more like Christmas to me anyhow.  Drink you’re face off to try and avoid reality and hug the only thing that you can… the fucking toilet.