I have a confession to make.
I don’t drink.
I don’t partake of any kind of alcohol because it would impair my ability to do what I do. And what I do, is be the best wrestler in HOW.
But listening to Scott Stevens rehash the same old bullshit just in a different arrangement has me stealing a couple of glances at a bottle of Jack Daniels.
“My team has heart and passion.”
No it doesn’t. JPD doesn’t care about the World title. Scottywood says that he struggles to find motivation. Conor’s checked out because he “won” HOW twice. Your team doesn’t have heart or passion. It has lethargy.
My team? It doesn’t need heart or passion when it has talent and drive. A constitution… a will… to do anything and everything to win.
And you’re right.
People have said that you don’t deserve to be in HOW. And your response is who the fuck are they to say that?
We’re people who’ve accomplished more in a few months than you’ve accomplished in the last few years. I came back and have held this championship for a year. Your only championship in 2022 is also because of me. You have done… and I want to make sure you understand this… absolutely nothing of consequence in HOW since I’ve been back.
As for me? I surrendered? I won every title HOW had to offer before you even got into HOW. I won its biggest match twice, back to back, on my own. I’ve beaten nearly every person in the Hall of Fame. But you know what I haven’t done? I haven’t gotten suspended or fired from this company. I haven’t had my time off imposed on me. But you have, haven’t you?
You aren’t dedicated to this company.
You occupy this company like a squatter. You do nothing to better this company, grow its fan base, or generate excitement. You’re nothing but a pariah, a fucking leper. You’re in HOW so that we can motivate the new people. Lee Best whores you out so some of his other roster members can score some easy wins and…
You know what?
That’s not fair.
Whores draw money. You sure as fuck don’t.
I mean, armed with fucking dynamite, you couldn’t even kill Scottywood. You even fucked that up. You could be armed with a nuclear bomb, shown the exact spot where War Games is being held, and fuck it up. You have no chance of winning War Games. Not now. Not ever. Hell, you couldn’t even do it in the lost years when everyone of consequence had left.
You are an unoriginal caricature of what a Texas pro wrestler is. You’re fucking Daffy Duck playing Robin Hood, pretending to be a hero, hoping to save the day, but smashing into every fucking tree as you swing in your rope.
Do me a favor.
Get some fucking skill.
Get some fucking talent.
Get some fucking wins.
Get some fucking accomplishments.
Actually… just get fucked.