Post by "The Hottest Shit Going" on Oct 29, 2009 21:59:45 GMT -4
The jam packed arena rumbles with excitement. The people clamoring for action and they are surely about to get a dose of it right in their faces. The lights dim once more sending these die hards into a frenzy. In an instant these miserable sacks of shit simmer down as the blue strobes begin to flicker and fake snow starts to fall. All this is welcomed in by the sounds of AFI's Miseria Cantare.
Chase: Wow, here he comes the most egotistical man in professional wrestling today.
Harvey: If he was hard to swallow before the PPV, imagine how inflated that mans head is now.
Chase: Makes sense that he wears a vest, you couldn't fit a t-shirt over that massive head of his. What an ego maniac.
Lively then takes that infamous place at the top of the ramp flipping back his hood. A shit eating grin is what he sports of his face as he looks out to the sea of humanity. A mass of people who can agree one hundred percent that they truly hate the man that stands before them.
In his zone the man quickly springs into step as he heads for the ring. The man stops half way down the ramp, and crosses his arms. He then brings a hand up to his chin as if lost in thought.
The JESUS then looks toward either side of the aisle way at the fans. Multiple people flipping him the bird and screaming obscenities toward their savior. He then spins on his heal and turns back toward the stage. The fans then suddenly erupt in cheers as the man begins to walk back toward the back. Just as he gets toward the curtain the place begin chanting "Nah, nah, na-nah, nah, nah, na-nah, Sa-ay good-bye!". The man hangs his head in shame.
Chase: I don't get it, Lively is leaving.
Harvey: It says right here in the schedule that Lively is set to do an in ring appearance.
Chase: I was expecting Lively to be so full of himself tonight, so in your face, letting everyone know just how he great he was in beating the legendary BDC.
Harvey: Maybe the hatred of the fans has finally broken Michael Lively.
The JESUS just stands there as the fans chant. His shoulders raise up and down as he lets out a huge sigh. The music then stops, and the echoing of the fans telling Lively they would rather him go rings loud and clear. What is just seconds seems to be an eternity. The man then does just what the fans wanted and disappears behind the curtain.
Chase: I can't believe my frickin eyes.
Harvey: Michael Lively just decided to listen to the fans, and leave.
Chase: The man has never been a crowd pleaser.
Just then the clapping of the fans is silenced and quickly turned to more boo'ing as the intro to Miseria Cantare once again begins to play. Snow starts to fall from the ceilings, as blue strobe lights flicker back and forth. Smoke begins to fill the ramp way as the hooded shadow of what seems to be Michael Lively once again appears. The fans desperately chanting, ranting, and raving hoping that he would once again listen to the plea.
The entire arena is quickly shocked by a huge explosion right underneath the feet of Michael Lively followed by a burst of fire.
Chase: Holy shit...get some medical attention out here it seems as if a huge explosion just misfired and took out Michael Lively.
Harvey: Thats was massive, did you see those flames. There is no way he didn't get scorched.
The fans all stand looking toward the ramp. Their hatred silenced as they look on in shock. Most people hate Michael Lively the character but it seems they have respect for him as a performer, and a person. They all seem to be showing care for his well being at this moment. The scene of the accident seems to be clearing out as the smoke starts to thin. A pile of charred clothing can be seen laying on the ramp way.
Chase: WHAT...WHERE...
Harvey: I DON'T BELIEVE...
Another huge explosion of pyro fills the entire stagging area making a large wall of sparks shooting upward into the air. This action startles everyone in the crowd, and our announce team.
Just as soon as the explosion is silenced a huge "FUCK YOU".
Insane Clown Posse's "Fuck the World" begins to play over the sound system as the shower of sparks fall to reveal Michael Lively standing there with his arrogant I am JESUS pose. The man no longer sporting a hooded vest, just a shirt that reads "FUCK YOU TOO", and a pair of wrestling tights that have a middle finger pointed downward covering his package region. The man simply smirks and begins laughing as the music plays on he starts walking down the aisle. The most hated man in wrestling just put on swerve to simply tell the fans fuck you too. He played on their emotions making them feel as if he had been hurt, tickled the strings of compassion making it play like a harp. He simply then startled these people, and shoved his middle finger right into their face.
A true Michael Lively move, and now the man has made his way into the ring to surely rub it in their faces. Now with a microphone in hand and an arrogant smile painted on his face her he goes.
Lively: You miserable pukes just got Cris Angeled, screw Mindfreakin, you just got Mind Fucked. I have just exposed you senseless douche bags for the frauds that you are. Every one of you wishes to boo, and berate your savior. Yet as soon as it seems I have been blown to bits, this entire place was on it's feet. Every one of you filthy retards were honestly upset, and worried. Worried that the greatest wrestler to ever walk this green fucking earth might no longer be able to thrill and entertain you. Worried that my outrageousness will no longer be seen. Nervous that in fact I might have been injured or even dead.
The fans then break out in a chant "We wish You'd DIE!!! Clap, clap, clap-clap-clap"
Lively: Well sorry to disappoint you closet Lively marks, but I am just fine. Not a hair was harmed on my precious little head. You see pulling off that magic trick was easy, yet it was just a little harder than beating BDC, that was a breeze. He proved me right, everything I stated about this man came to the surface. He wanted no part of Michael Lively. In the heat of the moment when forced to par take in something, he tried to save face. Once the bell rung, he knew it would be impossible. During the match when no matter what he tried, I still wouldn't stay down. This mans little heart popped out of his chest, looked him in they eyes and simply told him "You can't beat Michael Lively". Well as I sunk in the triangle choke, and this fraudulent legend went to sleep I proved his heart was right. I made a statement that BDC might have been somebody elsewhere, but he isn't shit here. This is my house, the place that Lively built. You don't come to greatness here without crossing me.
BDC, that gate slammed shut right in your face. As far as I am concerned you can now watch from the outside, and maybe this time you can keep those loose lips of your shut. So with that, I turn the page closing another chapter in this epic saga of Michael Lively. Sorry folks, some chapters are riveting, thrilling and create a ton of excitement. While others seem to start off real well, soon it becomes clear they just are nothing more than filler. Substance for the bigger story. This little feud was just that substance, filler, and nothing more then what I amount to a waste of time.
With the closing of one chapter begins the start of a new. I'm sure you dopey fucks in TV land know just where I'm heading, thats right the Xtreme title. This championship means alot to me. I got my start in this business by a man that lived and breathed Xtreme. Sabu in Las Vegas showed me by example how to be hardcore. That man wasn't happy unless he was bleeding. In a match if he didn't injure himself while trying to make you suffer at the same time, then he felt he failed. I have always had a little Xtreme in me, and felt that this companies Xtreme title picture was rather weak. My feelings were just like the Overdrive title, if I got a hold of the strap then it would mean something. I could bring it into the forefront, change peoples minds about that title, make it exciting. Thats what I did for the Overdrive title, I guess I inspire people to step up their game. I guess me holding a title infuriates people and forces them to be their best in the attempts to dethrone the JESUS. I have claimed that I can do just that for the Xtreme title.
Lively then clears his throats as he walks over to the corner. The man leans his back up against the turn buckles as a camera from across the way zooms in on Lively.
Lively: Chris Cyrus, or as I know him, the Hardcore Kid. A champion for a very long time. You have kept that title in your clutches since, well even I have lost track. How you have done it is truly a mystery. Maybe it's you that possess the Chris Angel tendencies. Now you have given yourself a rebirth, a new fancy name, a fancy ass hair cut so the gentlemen at the Rainbow club wouldn't mind you sizzing on their dizes. You have to admit that last haircut only could score jacked up transvestites with monstrous clits. At least this one gets you dudes, and dudes that are proud to have you on their arms.
Lively smiles at his own joke as he clutches his belly chuckling a bit.
Lively: Listen Really Gay Cyrus, you tell Hannah Montana that her dopey gay uncle is about to lose that title belt he has been grasping onto. You tell Hannah that Michael Lively is going to shove his fist up her Uncles ass, and yank that lucky horseshoe right out of his rectum. You then tell Hannah that when she turns eighteen, Michael Lively would surely stick his microphone in her sour patch.
Now onto tonight, it seems that once again a show that I made popular, a show I helped bring to the mainstream needs it's savior once more. You people will be graced with the presence of Michael Lively in this very ring.
The fans take a shit on Michael Lively's self promotion.
Lively: and I am taking on none other than Jason Royce.
The fans explode with cheers, the break into a another chant "Fuck EM Up Royce, Fuck Em UP"
Lively: You see, this is how great I am. I can take a no talent, uncoordinated, sloppy ass in ring performer like you and turn you into a fan favorite. Tonight these people will get full of emotion, you will feed off of their power. It will be as if they are inside the ring with you every step of the way. Every punch you throw will be as if the entire arena is jabbing at me. Yet it will still not be enough. You flat out suck Ostrige balls. I mean you are a sad excuse for a wrestler, why the APW even has you inked to a contract is beyond me. So like the great decider I am, I swoop in to action. I walk to this ring tonight so that once these out of shape, monkey fucking, slack jawed dip shits can chant for you. The management team in the back can witness what it's like for people to show up to view your match, and decide if your are worth the investment. I can save them time and money right now by informing them that indeed this is a waste. Putting anything behind you is simply like the government bailing out the nations banking industry, then turning around and throwing a fuck ton of money into the failing auto industry, it just doesn't make sense.
I make sense. Look at me, I am frickin amazing. I dominate people left an right. Just stepping in the ring with me sends out so much fear into the hearts of men, it's as if they leave their soul back in the locker room. Week in and week out I fight empty shells of men who thought prior to this booking that they were the bee's knees. Like the great conquerer I am, total decimation happens. You see it's not a rocket science formula. To face off with Michael Lively, you must first have heart. I'm talking show up to the arena, strap on your boots and walk to the entrance ramp. Instead of spilling your innards out leaving them behind, you man the fuck up and get out in that ring. You bring a warrior spirit with you. Second you must have confidence. Before that bell rings everyone thinks they can beat Michael Lively. Just as soon as the deadline hits, and one of the helping hands says your up, most of these ass lovers crumble. Confidence that you carry with you all the way to the ring, confidence that is pumping through your veins as you stare deep into my eyes. When you do, I assure you all you will see is a ruthless bastard, that gets a kick out of being an asshole, and an even bigger thrill out making you look like a sloppy hooker trying to lick the semen off of my balls. Last, you must embrace death and have zero quit in ya. I can honestly say that Level One, Twister, And Biggs all have these qualities. Everyone of these men have a never say die attitude. Everyone of these men take a solid licking and keep ticking, just like myself. People tend to get shocked, when they empty a full arsenal of attacks. I mean these are attacks that have brought them to the dance, and these average fucks realize it just isn't enough. That look on there face is like getting an extra life just when you figured out how to defeat the last boss on a video game. I'm pumped, and spring into action. That look is when the JESUS knows you are broken. Thats when I can see that doubt has set in. I fully exploit that doubt and turn it into fear. Fear that boils over as you realize I am a fucking wrestling menace inside the ring.
Jason Royce, I can go at sixty percent during our match and will still be forty four percent greater then you, which means your chances of winning aren't very good meat muncher. Now I'm no mathematician but add in your current win loss record, and simply it's fucking pathetic. The numbers don't add up Jason, we would have to wrestler about six hundred and thirty times before that luck of odds rolls your way with you sneaking out a "W" against old Michael Lively. The Legacy of the Iceman Jason Royce is simply that loosing comes natural to you. Thirty losses, and yet you still keep plugging away. I must say there is no quit to you, or maybe the fact that you realize you can't collect a check doing anything else. The loosing purse in APW still beats flipping French fries, and you don't have to worry about all that hot grease hunh kid. Well I'm no hater, you keep on doing what you do best, and when I meet you inside that ring I will give you a helping hand so we can increase those big "L's". I'm sure there is a happy home in the APW hall of fame for the man with the most losses. If not I'm positive that whine ass bitch of the century is still up for grabs and you might be able to inch out some of the competition.
Lively smirks toward the camera. The sight of this on the tron sends the fans into hat mode as they boo the JESUS.
Lively: One thing that is gaura-damn-teed, you lack the necessary tools to beat me. You are like the child on the short bus Jason, the one that was shafted on brain power. The one that looks like he could partake in normal school activities but when the glue sticks come out, he gets to eating past like beef jerky. Jason Royce, you have an image of a wrestler. You project your self like one outside the ring, yet once the bell rings you are all slobber, and cross eyes. So shit for brains, try not to think about it too hard. Don't force your brain to work too hard trying to even come back to this promo, it's pointless Royce. If you can't beat me on a microphone, how can you even begin to come at me inside the ring. Simply walk out to the the squared circle that I call home, wait for a super kick, and the next thing you know you'll be back in the locker room having a popcicle to ease your retardation.
Lively then drops the mic sending an ear piercing static through the speakers as he grins with excitement and strikes his infamous I am JESUS pose.
Chase: Wow, here he comes the most egotistical man in professional wrestling today.
Harvey: If he was hard to swallow before the PPV, imagine how inflated that mans head is now.
Chase: Makes sense that he wears a vest, you couldn't fit a t-shirt over that massive head of his. What an ego maniac.
Lively then takes that infamous place at the top of the ramp flipping back his hood. A shit eating grin is what he sports of his face as he looks out to the sea of humanity. A mass of people who can agree one hundred percent that they truly hate the man that stands before them.
In his zone the man quickly springs into step as he heads for the ring. The man stops half way down the ramp, and crosses his arms. He then brings a hand up to his chin as if lost in thought.
The JESUS then looks toward either side of the aisle way at the fans. Multiple people flipping him the bird and screaming obscenities toward their savior. He then spins on his heal and turns back toward the stage. The fans then suddenly erupt in cheers as the man begins to walk back toward the back. Just as he gets toward the curtain the place begin chanting "Nah, nah, na-nah, nah, nah, na-nah, Sa-ay good-bye!". The man hangs his head in shame.
Chase: I don't get it, Lively is leaving.
Harvey: It says right here in the schedule that Lively is set to do an in ring appearance.
Chase: I was expecting Lively to be so full of himself tonight, so in your face, letting everyone know just how he great he was in beating the legendary BDC.
Harvey: Maybe the hatred of the fans has finally broken Michael Lively.
The JESUS just stands there as the fans chant. His shoulders raise up and down as he lets out a huge sigh. The music then stops, and the echoing of the fans telling Lively they would rather him go rings loud and clear. What is just seconds seems to be an eternity. The man then does just what the fans wanted and disappears behind the curtain.
Chase: I can't believe my frickin eyes.
Harvey: Michael Lively just decided to listen to the fans, and leave.
Chase: The man has never been a crowd pleaser.
Just then the clapping of the fans is silenced and quickly turned to more boo'ing as the intro to Miseria Cantare once again begins to play. Snow starts to fall from the ceilings, as blue strobe lights flicker back and forth. Smoke begins to fill the ramp way as the hooded shadow of what seems to be Michael Lively once again appears. The fans desperately chanting, ranting, and raving hoping that he would once again listen to the plea.
The entire arena is quickly shocked by a huge explosion right underneath the feet of Michael Lively followed by a burst of fire.
Chase: Holy shit...get some medical attention out here it seems as if a huge explosion just misfired and took out Michael Lively.
Harvey: Thats was massive, did you see those flames. There is no way he didn't get scorched.
The fans all stand looking toward the ramp. Their hatred silenced as they look on in shock. Most people hate Michael Lively the character but it seems they have respect for him as a performer, and a person. They all seem to be showing care for his well being at this moment. The scene of the accident seems to be clearing out as the smoke starts to thin. A pile of charred clothing can be seen laying on the ramp way.
Chase: WHAT...WHERE...
Harvey: I DON'T BELIEVE...
Another huge explosion of pyro fills the entire stagging area making a large wall of sparks shooting upward into the air. This action startles everyone in the crowd, and our announce team.
Just as soon as the explosion is silenced a huge "FUCK YOU".
Insane Clown Posse's "Fuck the World" begins to play over the sound system as the shower of sparks fall to reveal Michael Lively standing there with his arrogant I am JESUS pose. The man no longer sporting a hooded vest, just a shirt that reads "FUCK YOU TOO", and a pair of wrestling tights that have a middle finger pointed downward covering his package region. The man simply smirks and begins laughing as the music plays on he starts walking down the aisle. The most hated man in wrestling just put on swerve to simply tell the fans fuck you too. He played on their emotions making them feel as if he had been hurt, tickled the strings of compassion making it play like a harp. He simply then startled these people, and shoved his middle finger right into their face.
A true Michael Lively move, and now the man has made his way into the ring to surely rub it in their faces. Now with a microphone in hand and an arrogant smile painted on his face her he goes.
Lively: You miserable pukes just got Cris Angeled, screw Mindfreakin, you just got Mind Fucked. I have just exposed you senseless douche bags for the frauds that you are. Every one of you wishes to boo, and berate your savior. Yet as soon as it seems I have been blown to bits, this entire place was on it's feet. Every one of you filthy retards were honestly upset, and worried. Worried that the greatest wrestler to ever walk this green fucking earth might no longer be able to thrill and entertain you. Worried that my outrageousness will no longer be seen. Nervous that in fact I might have been injured or even dead.
The fans then break out in a chant "We wish You'd DIE!!! Clap, clap, clap-clap-clap"
Lively: Well sorry to disappoint you closet Lively marks, but I am just fine. Not a hair was harmed on my precious little head. You see pulling off that magic trick was easy, yet it was just a little harder than beating BDC, that was a breeze. He proved me right, everything I stated about this man came to the surface. He wanted no part of Michael Lively. In the heat of the moment when forced to par take in something, he tried to save face. Once the bell rung, he knew it would be impossible. During the match when no matter what he tried, I still wouldn't stay down. This mans little heart popped out of his chest, looked him in they eyes and simply told him "You can't beat Michael Lively". Well as I sunk in the triangle choke, and this fraudulent legend went to sleep I proved his heart was right. I made a statement that BDC might have been somebody elsewhere, but he isn't shit here. This is my house, the place that Lively built. You don't come to greatness here without crossing me.
BDC, that gate slammed shut right in your face. As far as I am concerned you can now watch from the outside, and maybe this time you can keep those loose lips of your shut. So with that, I turn the page closing another chapter in this epic saga of Michael Lively. Sorry folks, some chapters are riveting, thrilling and create a ton of excitement. While others seem to start off real well, soon it becomes clear they just are nothing more than filler. Substance for the bigger story. This little feud was just that substance, filler, and nothing more then what I amount to a waste of time.
With the closing of one chapter begins the start of a new. I'm sure you dopey fucks in TV land know just where I'm heading, thats right the Xtreme title. This championship means alot to me. I got my start in this business by a man that lived and breathed Xtreme. Sabu in Las Vegas showed me by example how to be hardcore. That man wasn't happy unless he was bleeding. In a match if he didn't injure himself while trying to make you suffer at the same time, then he felt he failed. I have always had a little Xtreme in me, and felt that this companies Xtreme title picture was rather weak. My feelings were just like the Overdrive title, if I got a hold of the strap then it would mean something. I could bring it into the forefront, change peoples minds about that title, make it exciting. Thats what I did for the Overdrive title, I guess I inspire people to step up their game. I guess me holding a title infuriates people and forces them to be their best in the attempts to dethrone the JESUS. I have claimed that I can do just that for the Xtreme title.
Lively then clears his throats as he walks over to the corner. The man leans his back up against the turn buckles as a camera from across the way zooms in on Lively.
Lively: Chris Cyrus, or as I know him, the Hardcore Kid. A champion for a very long time. You have kept that title in your clutches since, well even I have lost track. How you have done it is truly a mystery. Maybe it's you that possess the Chris Angel tendencies. Now you have given yourself a rebirth, a new fancy name, a fancy ass hair cut so the gentlemen at the Rainbow club wouldn't mind you sizzing on their dizes. You have to admit that last haircut only could score jacked up transvestites with monstrous clits. At least this one gets you dudes, and dudes that are proud to have you on their arms.
Lively smiles at his own joke as he clutches his belly chuckling a bit.
Lively: Listen Really Gay Cyrus, you tell Hannah Montana that her dopey gay uncle is about to lose that title belt he has been grasping onto. You tell Hannah that Michael Lively is going to shove his fist up her Uncles ass, and yank that lucky horseshoe right out of his rectum. You then tell Hannah that when she turns eighteen, Michael Lively would surely stick his microphone in her sour patch.
Now onto tonight, it seems that once again a show that I made popular, a show I helped bring to the mainstream needs it's savior once more. You people will be graced with the presence of Michael Lively in this very ring.
The fans take a shit on Michael Lively's self promotion.
Lively: and I am taking on none other than Jason Royce.
The fans explode with cheers, the break into a another chant "Fuck EM Up Royce, Fuck Em UP"
Lively: You see, this is how great I am. I can take a no talent, uncoordinated, sloppy ass in ring performer like you and turn you into a fan favorite. Tonight these people will get full of emotion, you will feed off of their power. It will be as if they are inside the ring with you every step of the way. Every punch you throw will be as if the entire arena is jabbing at me. Yet it will still not be enough. You flat out suck Ostrige balls. I mean you are a sad excuse for a wrestler, why the APW even has you inked to a contract is beyond me. So like the great decider I am, I swoop in to action. I walk to this ring tonight so that once these out of shape, monkey fucking, slack jawed dip shits can chant for you. The management team in the back can witness what it's like for people to show up to view your match, and decide if your are worth the investment. I can save them time and money right now by informing them that indeed this is a waste. Putting anything behind you is simply like the government bailing out the nations banking industry, then turning around and throwing a fuck ton of money into the failing auto industry, it just doesn't make sense.
I make sense. Look at me, I am frickin amazing. I dominate people left an right. Just stepping in the ring with me sends out so much fear into the hearts of men, it's as if they leave their soul back in the locker room. Week in and week out I fight empty shells of men who thought prior to this booking that they were the bee's knees. Like the great conquerer I am, total decimation happens. You see it's not a rocket science formula. To face off with Michael Lively, you must first have heart. I'm talking show up to the arena, strap on your boots and walk to the entrance ramp. Instead of spilling your innards out leaving them behind, you man the fuck up and get out in that ring. You bring a warrior spirit with you. Second you must have confidence. Before that bell rings everyone thinks they can beat Michael Lively. Just as soon as the deadline hits, and one of the helping hands says your up, most of these ass lovers crumble. Confidence that you carry with you all the way to the ring, confidence that is pumping through your veins as you stare deep into my eyes. When you do, I assure you all you will see is a ruthless bastard, that gets a kick out of being an asshole, and an even bigger thrill out making you look like a sloppy hooker trying to lick the semen off of my balls. Last, you must embrace death and have zero quit in ya. I can honestly say that Level One, Twister, And Biggs all have these qualities. Everyone of these men have a never say die attitude. Everyone of these men take a solid licking and keep ticking, just like myself. People tend to get shocked, when they empty a full arsenal of attacks. I mean these are attacks that have brought them to the dance, and these average fucks realize it just isn't enough. That look on there face is like getting an extra life just when you figured out how to defeat the last boss on a video game. I'm pumped, and spring into action. That look is when the JESUS knows you are broken. Thats when I can see that doubt has set in. I fully exploit that doubt and turn it into fear. Fear that boils over as you realize I am a fucking wrestling menace inside the ring.
Jason Royce, I can go at sixty percent during our match and will still be forty four percent greater then you, which means your chances of winning aren't very good meat muncher. Now I'm no mathematician but add in your current win loss record, and simply it's fucking pathetic. The numbers don't add up Jason, we would have to wrestler about six hundred and thirty times before that luck of odds rolls your way with you sneaking out a "W" against old Michael Lively. The Legacy of the Iceman Jason Royce is simply that loosing comes natural to you. Thirty losses, and yet you still keep plugging away. I must say there is no quit to you, or maybe the fact that you realize you can't collect a check doing anything else. The loosing purse in APW still beats flipping French fries, and you don't have to worry about all that hot grease hunh kid. Well I'm no hater, you keep on doing what you do best, and when I meet you inside that ring I will give you a helping hand so we can increase those big "L's". I'm sure there is a happy home in the APW hall of fame for the man with the most losses. If not I'm positive that whine ass bitch of the century is still up for grabs and you might be able to inch out some of the competition.
Lively smirks toward the camera. The sight of this on the tron sends the fans into hat mode as they boo the JESUS.
Lively: One thing that is gaura-damn-teed, you lack the necessary tools to beat me. You are like the child on the short bus Jason, the one that was shafted on brain power. The one that looks like he could partake in normal school activities but when the glue sticks come out, he gets to eating past like beef jerky. Jason Royce, you have an image of a wrestler. You project your self like one outside the ring, yet once the bell rings you are all slobber, and cross eyes. So shit for brains, try not to think about it too hard. Don't force your brain to work too hard trying to even come back to this promo, it's pointless Royce. If you can't beat me on a microphone, how can you even begin to come at me inside the ring. Simply walk out to the the squared circle that I call home, wait for a super kick, and the next thing you know you'll be back in the locker room having a popcicle to ease your retardation.
Lively then drops the mic sending an ear piercing static through the speakers as he grins with excitement and strikes his infamous I am JESUS pose.
