Meanwhile in Miracle Enterprise Headquarters.
“They drink milk from a fucking bag, and I am the villain?”
There isn’t anyone there.
I uploaded my newest criminal ideas to the villain server I am certain any minute now I will get a response about our tight jeaned superhero.
Am I going too far with this?
Look…I almost lost to a guy who on the spot made up some phony ass screen play I don’t think there is such a thing as going too far anymore. Teddy Palmer could pull his pants off and have a miniature twin of Teddy growing out of one his testicles. I don’t know…HOFC is anything goes, right?
I am not sure if I live off the tears of whine-ass wrestlers or the constant boos I get from these trailer trash fans in Chicago. I step on the backs of those who annoy me and it isn’t that I have to do that but I have this itch in the back of my mind that tells me to inflict as much pain as possible.
Teddy Palmer dares to tarnish the good name of Miracle Enterprise. The only Pyramid I am involved in is the Luxor Hotel and Casino where I gamble all the fans money that was used to buy The Holy Water. I win big on mahjong, Teddy.
It must make you angry that what you insult me about–I embrace like a badge of honor. I have plans for this world and it will not be a wall keeping you out but several men in ski masks with lead pipes that will leave you bleeding out in a freezing snow drift in Toronto. Nobody will miss you Teddy except all the women you owe child support too. Pfft…dead beat superhero what a wrestling trope.
This is where the story ends, and it isn’t a happy ending…well not for you anyway. The hero will not get the girl. the hero will not save the world. The hero will not be a man for children to look up to. No, the children will look down…at a frail wrestler in a coma that I will visit once a week to piss out some Labatt Blue on. That is pretty dark but if one is to prosper one must be sacrificed and judging by recent surveys nobody will actually miss you anyway. You can go fuck around and SHOOT POP POP your way out of here… you inconsequential piece of human garbage.
When I am through with you, the only left that will be of use is your left arm, which you will use to carry around Moms bags when she flutters from fed to fed. You, running behind with an obvious limp like an abused dog still damaged from our match will be a sight to behold.
It is UnscripTED Man: he has the power to say things nobody wants to hear, forces you to roll your eyes, and then he grunts and waddles away like Quasimodo into the shadows and disappears for six months.
“DON’T LOOK AT ME.”
While you are at it, use those skills to clean those jeans of yours you love so much. Feces matted skinny jeans are not hip…I hope.
I love how me having an annoyed or angry response to one of your weaselly ass comments are supposed to be a feather in your cap.
“Oh, I got you, now!”
For real, homey?
What is it with these misconstrued numbskulls thinking that is some winning strategy? It isn’t because I thought I was supposed to care. Oh…yea I don’t have any passion…sorry Wildcard. If this was a game you would be the fucking instruction card that nobody reads, you say a lot but not actually say anything Teddy Ruxpin batteries dying slurred speech ignorant douchebag.
Pick a card any card…ooooof…you got the drowning in his own vernacular nonsense card. I would rather have spent the last five minutes getting the lint out of my belly button then listen to your contrived insults. I am curious…do you listen to yourself or does it just go in one ear and out the other like it does for everyone else?
That is quite the superpower you have, Tedious Teddy. Cannot wait to hear your marble mouthed slogan about truth, justice, and being a scab.
What is there to figure out?
You are a moron and you are going to get paralyzed.
Is that so hard?