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This has got to stop.
No offense, but this is pathetic.
I’ve just about had it with this bullshit.
I don’t mean to sound like I’m complaining at all, but coming into the DeNucci Cup, I thought for sure that it’d be fun to lay waste to a bunch of pathetic beta-bitches who don’t know what it’s like in HOW or the HOFC for that matter. But to tell you the God’s honest truth: it’s becoming a bit of a chore and it’s beginning to get boring as fuck.
That’s not HOW’s fault, though.
It’s mine.
I thought this would be a fuckin’ challenge, bro. But instead I’m sitting here picking off these FNGs – that’s Fuckin New Guys for you military illiterate motherfuckers – one by one, and it’s gotten just a little too fucking easy. But it’s cool, I mean…I get it. Lee needed someone that he trusts fighting against people that he doesn’t trust; it’s simple. First you let them take one another out, then you have Big Daddy Solex come in and get rid of the rest. It’s a solid fuckin’ strategy from the boss and he knows that he can count on me to take the fuckin’ trash out. On Saturday that’s exactly what I’ll do. So grab yourself some fuckin’ popcorn and enjoy the show…but don’t take a bathroom break, don’t grab a snack, don’t fuckin’ blink! Cause this shit ain’t gonna last long at all.
Now Xander, I know that speaking ill of your goddess deeply offends you; so hear me out:
Fuck that bitch.
Get it together, bro. You should be smart and drop that bitch immediately, like Dan Ryan did Lindsay Troy. Get yourself a real chick like Xena the fuckin’ Warrior Princess, man. At least having a cardboard cutout of Lucy Lawless hanging near your locker would be able to draw some interest from some of these pervy fucks in HOW, as opposed to shilling the will of your invisible and clearly imaginary, friend. Bro, take a look from the outside and peer into the window of your life as an outsider. It will become painfully clear that people think of you like you’re like fuckin’ Napoleon Dynamite. You’re out there every week showing off a picture of his fake-pretend girlfriend to dumb ass friend Pedro, all the while you claim she’s out of town doing some modelling right now. GOSH! Why don’t you guys believe me? She’s real, I swear. GOSH!
Maybe later you can take your bike out for some sweet jumps and catch like three feet or air. You fuckin’ nerd. Yeah, I called you a fuckin’ nerd. I really don’t care that it may seem unoriginal in the slightest to call you a nerd, cause it really is the perfect description of your sorry ass.
Insert line about “I aM smART, so NErD is ComPLIMent~! CoMIC BoOK NeRD iS KOoL~!”
No you’re fucking not, and no it’s fuckin’ not. You bitch.
Get your shit together, Napoleon…cause Saturday’s gonna be a rough one for ya’, you cherry fuck. I just hope that you’ve come to terms with the fact that you’re just not as good as you think you are and you don’t fuckin’ belong here, bro. Bragging about your wins over Hannibal Frost and Simon Loveless lend nothing to your credibility; those two are…fuck, who even are those two? They’re nobody! That’s who the fuck they are and that’s who the fuck they’ll stay.
When all is said and done and you’re looking down at the mat wondering how that much blood came from your one body, just remember that I warned you about this. I was trying to be the nice guy and help you, just like I tried to help Jason Cashe. Don’t be that guy, Xander. Don’t be a Jason Cashe. Don’t be a Black Mamba. The good news is, you don’t have to be.
Leave.
Leave now.
Get the fuck out of town before reality finally sets in.
Take your imaginary friend, pack up what little pride you have left, get on your fuckin’ scooter and go the fuck home, Xander. You’re only a few days away from the worst beating of your miserable excuse for a life, and if you don’t leave now…there will be nothing left to save you from the inevitable ass whooping that will be coming your way.
For your sake, Xander. Get the fuck out of dodge.