- Event: Chaos 030
When you die Mike… and I don’t mean when you pretended to die like Jesus did. Just so you could shit on all of religion to be edgy and have an excuse to party with a bunch of discount frat bros you called disciples.
No, when you really die, like I did at Alcatraz… it will be a glorious day, let’s not gloss over that fact. People will celebrate, there will be parades, national and bank holidays will be called. It may be the thing that finally unites the entire world, ending all wars and divisiveness…
Nah, I’m just fucking with ya, no one is gonna give a shit. Did you really think I was gonna build you up as this grandiose figure that everyone cares so much about? That your death will be this world altering moment like Queen Elizabeth, JFk or Betty White? You’re gonna die and no one is going to give a flying fuck. Your funeral is going to be less attended than a fucking Blue Jays game. The gravedigger is gonna be so bored waiting for anyone to pay you their respects he’s probably gonna jerk off on your casket just because he can.
After all that fun though, you’re going to Hell. I don’t think anyone, certainly yourself is gonna argue with that. I could list just some of the reasons from your life, but I only got 750 words and it’d be like preaching to the choir. Hell is where you’re gonna end up and as someone who has spent some time there recently, I figure I give you a heads up.
First off, Jesus is gonna knee you in the fucking nuts. Yeah, think they don’t work together? How do you think they sort out who goes where, come on. But yeah, and it’s gonna hurt… like for a long ass time cause well magical Jesus knee powers, that’s why.
Second, that mouth of yours Mike? Turned into Kostoff’s personal man pleaser? No, sewn permanently shut. What could be more tortuous than not being able to hear yourself talk? Not being able to respond to every tweet, every comment made towards you. And you wonder why I’m so thrilled to go to Hell.
Third, you’re gonna have to wrestle an endless string of matches against Scott Stevens. Oh and not just wrestle Stevens, you are gonna have to listen to his promos and never be able to respond to him. Cause ya got your mouth sewn fucking shut and all. It’s gonna drive your beyond fucking crazy.
We can go on and on Mike, but I doubt you actually believe one single word I’ve said here. That I actually died, went to Hell and made a deal with The Devil to return. There are ninety-seven more realistic explanations. So here is the question then. Do I believe the words I’m saying? Am I off my rocker and spinning stories to explain the horrible injuries that Stevens inflicted on me? That would make me quite the unstable fucker. Feel bad for the person locked in a HOFC cage with me.
Maybe I’m just making all this up, a giant fantasy story to throw everyone off their game. All orchestrated minutes after the explosion at Alcatraz that I survived and now culminating with a return for War Games. That would be quite the smart game plan… and one I doubt you would ever give me credit for.
Or option three, every word of this story is true and you’re going up against forces that not even you can beat. The Devil’s loyal servant versus The God of HOW’s son. I’d say it’s good versus evil… but we both know there is no good here in HOW. It’s Mike Best against something that he has never had to face before in HOW. Pause your Back to The Future trilogy, and brush up on your Ghostbusters.. or rewatch some Buffy or Charmed (I bet you were a Prue fan, I know how you like the crazy ones) and get ready with some Supernatural. Cause shit is about to get weird here in HOW and for once thankfully it won’t involve beastiality, golden showers or sodomy. Let’s ruin somebody’s immersion and leave the world of reality.
But believe whatever you want about me… probably some fourth option you’ll think is super funny. Fine, still won’t change the fact that when Mike Best dies, no one is gonna give a fuck.