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No punchlines this time.
I’m gonna have a lot of jokes for you over the next four promos about the size of your head and how a cardboard cutout got more over than you, but for now I just need to be honest with you. Because you’re my friend. Because you’re my brother. Because you’re my childhood fucking hero hero. I owe you some truths, because over the course of our friendship, I’ve told you a lot of lies. A thousand times, I’ve put my hand on a Bible and claimed that you were the only motherfucker in the game I was afraid of, but the truth is that my fingers were crossed.
I am straight up better than you, Dan Ryan.
Truth hurts more than knees, sometimes.
This isn’t a tournament, it’s a coronation for a belt I never lost. We’re the two best trash talkers and cage fighters in HOW, but it’s not a close margin. The belt I wore over my shoulder at Refueled already belonged to me– it’s been buried in my backyard for over a year, and we both know you aren’t about to change that. We both know that March To Glory is only ever gonna end one way, just like we both knew it at ICONIC. Just like we knew it when I took that ICON Title off of you. You’re gonna fight hard, you’re gonna hit hard, and then you’re gonna lose hard, Dan, because I am the greatest HOFC fighter of all time.
I surpassed you.
I surpassed everyone.
Every motherfucker who has ever been the number one guy has eventually heard a ring announcer scream my name, and I’ve already got you twice. You think a cage makes a difference? You think a double booking makes a difference? C’mon, Dan– you’re already deciding what you’re gonna move on to after the pay-per-view, and that’s okay. I’m sure you’ll have a great running chewing through the Best Alliance. Maybe a solid feud with Steve Solex, because I retired the ICON Championship and you have nothing better to do.
The fuck are you even gonna say to me?
Call me a thick-skull, throw together some condescending bullshit. Pick at the bones of this promo like a fucking scavenger, looking for something I got 3% wrong so you can try to flip it on me. Time to get off the formula and start solid food, Dan, because if you leave me an inch of eighty five dollar steak, I’m gonna eat your fucking lunch and you KNOW it. Make some jokes about how I fucked Lindsay Troy. Get some edgy shit about Max or my dad in there, like everyone else does. Tell everyone how you’re gonna shit down my neck and knock me out. I don’t know man, if I’m 8 Miles ahead off the starting line, is it even worth trying to B-Rabbit you?
Dan, I’m gonna win the HOFC Championship.
And that’s okay. You’re gonna fight hard. You’re gonna have a hell of a rebuttal. You’re gonna punch the ever living fuck out of me in that cage, and the announcers are gonna talk about how you ALMOST did it. About how you ALMOST made it. You got all the way to the finals, and that’s fucking great. You should have won the whole thing. You WOULD have won the whole thing. But I entered the DeNucci Cup, Dan, and I am the man who can’t be beat. It is what it is, I’m gonna let you finish, but Mike Best is the greatest of all time. The alpha and the omega. The definitive number one, without exception.
And you?
You’re the number two guy, and that’s okay.
You will never be HOW World Champion as long as I hold the belt. You will never win the DeNucci Cup so long as I’m in the cage. You will never ascend to the top of the mountain so long as I’m standing there, because I am the greatest of all time and you aren’t. That’s hard honesty. That’s brutal honesty. But it’s honest honesty, Dan. No mean words are gonna change that. No angry threats are gonna change that. No witty punchlines are gonna change that. The only thing stopping you from being the best in the game is me, and until I step down from the throne, the best you’ll ever be is second place.
Get comfortable and bring an umbrella.
It’s gonna be a long reign.