Post by "The Hottest Shit Going" on Sept 10, 2009 11:39:57 GMT -4
Fresh From Victory
A fancy smile that would signify that Michael Lively is obviously pleased with himself is plastered all over his face as he flings the curtain to the side making his way back to the locker room. The man has just accomplished what he set out to do. He has earned himself a spot back on the APW roster. A mistake in judgment had cost him a lot over the past few months, but the self proclaimed savior of APW has fought his way back. He has been reinstated and can finally earn a pay check. This must please not only Lively, but his accountant slash personal manager Aaron Roberts. The cougar that runs the back halls of APW looking for a piece of mutton missile known otherwise as Terri Lively must also be pleased that her son had fulfilled his obligation, achieved his goal and got that lucrative contract up and rolling once again. Lively stops for a moment letting it sink in. Deep down inside he knew he had what it takes to win, to beat the Hurricane so he could once again suit up as an APW superstar. Having that confidence doesn't mean that he didn't have a doubt, or a worry that surely Jeff also had what it takes to put him down for the three count. It was a hell of a match, and both men fought hard and long to get what they wanted. Jeff surely had a taste of revenge while Lively got his redemption. The man has a seat toweling off his sweaty brow and looks around in pleasure as he is home. His career took off from APW, it was his first big break, and has a special place in his cold heart. His moment alone was then interrupted by his mother bouncing up to him all bubbly and joyful. Her tits hanging out of the bottom of her ripped and torn Michael Lively shirt. The fabric barely covering her nipples as Lively looks up in disgust toward his predator type mother.
"Wow...fresh off my win and here you are, in my face. Let me guess needing a hand out, wanting some money. Ready to get the schedule so I can book you on a bus while I jet set from city to city."
Lively then stands as his blood boils a bit. His anger is spilling over because it is just so much fun to torment his mother. Terri back pedals a bit as her son stalks toward her like a snake ready to strike as his words continue to berate her.
"You fucking leech, stuck to my testicles. I put in the work, I have to risk it all and for what so you can get a free ride. So you and Aaron can live your lifestyles. I had so much pressure because you can't make a name for yourself."
Lively then turns sideways readies his foot to plant one right in her suck hole. Just then the famous crack sound is heard getting Lively's attention as he hasn't yet struck his mother. His eyes catch the wonderous view of Streets Wilson front kicking Terri's knee hyper extending it. The woman screams in pain as he then follows it up swiftly with a knife hand chop to her throat. The woman flips backward to the ground clutching her wind pipe gasping for air. Streets then drops to a knee and wraps his Kung Fu like grip around the womans throat. His eyes look up to the JESUS who just looks on in a sick manor and then nods his head in approval.
Streets thinks for a moment about actually ripping her throat out, then decides to just flat palm strike the Cougar crushing her throat completely. Wilson then stands as Ms. Lively rolls around on the floor like a mute in pain trying to breath but struggling.
"Nice...now maybe that yappy bitch won't bug me with her useless talking."
Streets just looks at Lively deadly serious with an ice cold stare. Lively not sure how to take that decides to rebut the stare with one of his own. The two men get nose to nose trying to out stare the other. Lively then blinks.
"AHHH...you blinked...I knew you couldn't hang you little bitch."
"Lord of the Streets and King of Stare-zies you know I think I don't like you. Ohh...shit shes turning blue Streets."
Wilson then turns back to Terri Lively who seems to be loosing consciousness needing air desperately. Wilson grabs a pen, removes the ink cartridge and jams it into her trachea. Suddenly a slight whistle sound can be heard as the womans body is know getting air through the makeshift device Streets just came up with. Lively laughing at his mothers new Trech hole, and the nose coming from it holds his hand up to Streets as if letting him know he will be right back. Wilson then whips out a knife and begins cleaning his fingernails waiting for the return of the JESUS (aren't we all). Lively comes back grinning ear to ear.
"Here Streets try this."
Lively then holds out a Kazoo and Streets lets out a chuckle. The Lord of the Streets with much joy takes the child's toy and switches it out with the pen. The Kazoo in place then begins humming out a melodic tune as Terri Lively takes in each breath. Wilson then tries to regain his composure and now motions to Lively that he will be right back.
"Close your eyes Mike....this one is going to be good."
Lively closes his eyes briefly and then is told to open them just as Streets plunges a party blower into the womans neck. The birthday favor then begins roiling and unrolling with each breath makes a very distinctive "BROOOO" horn sound. The JESUS falls over laughing at the sight of his mother with a party favor stuck in her neck. Streets very proud of his handy work then decides to call one of the paramedics on hand for the event. The paramedic and his partner arrive on the scene with the equipment. Both in shock look toward Streets asking what happened. Wilson looks at them and delivers a crisp, clean, solid answer.
"Listen fellas this was clearly a wrestling gimmick gone wrong. She was supposed to take a bump and leaned into it the wrong way."
"Leaned into it the wrong way, she has a party blower in her throat."
Wilson shrugs his shoulders as the paramedics load the woman onto a stretcher to get her medical attention. Just as they buckle Ms. Lively onto the gerny President Jeff walks by looking very disgusted by the two men having a ball.
"You two clowns look like your having a blast, so to continue your party let us see how you fuckers handle in the ring competition. I'm booking you two in a tag team match against Slade Craven and the returning Assassin."
Lively looks as Jeff as he mutters out the match, then he turns toward Streets who looks at him oh so puzzled. The two then burst into laughter. Lively and Streets bump into each other holding their stomach and point at Jeff as if his match making was ridiculous. Jeff furiously storms off leaving the two men to bask in their laughter.
NEXT WEEK
Inside the locker room of the White Lion Michael Lively is a newly formed tag team. Streets Wilson and Michael Lively have joined forces to tangle with the unstoppable force of Assassin and Slade Craven. The JESUS walks into the bathroom fresh from his shower wearing a new pair of air brushed tights. The front reads "I'm back" while the rear has a picture of Lively on cross pissing on the people below who seems o be worshiping him, tasteless I know yet so fitting for this bastard of wrestling. He looks in the mirror and begins straight razoring his five o'clock shadow from his face. Once down the man gives his neck and cheek a pat down with some hot water and then turns to finish getting ready. As he enters the room Streets gets his attention with a subtle whistle. Ms. Lively fresh from her trip to the hospital last week lays on the couch with a breathing tube jammed in her neck hole attached to a machine to assist her breathing efforts. Streets creeps over to the sleeping woman then pulls the tube from her neck hole softly and acts like he is now fucking the hole. Lively begins chuckling as Wilson pumps back and forth toward the womans damaged neck. Wilson is then startled by the woman making a loud gurgling sound needed air. The Lord of the Streets then slams the tube back in her neck hole ans has a seat. The force of this wakes Ms. Lively from her eyes then fill with tears. Lively shakes his head as he smiles at Streets actions.
"You know we are bad news together. I swear we might be nothing but trouble for this company."
Wilson shakes his head and waves his arm at Lively as if he's crazy. The JESUS then exits the locker room to head for the craft services tent to grab a bite to eat before the match later. Lively makes it around the corner and is stopped dead in his tracks. Something he thought he may never see again enters his view. A large Irish man with a Lil Dick between his legs.
"Sabur??"
"Well if it ain't Michael Lively..."
"Yep it is Michael Lively. Hows the leg?"
"Hows your contract?"
"Reinstated, now what about you. Are you healed up..."
"Why you want take a turn with the Human Wrecking Machine"
"Please I already beat you a few times, besides the company might need you to choke it up in all the title matches again."
"Wow, big words from the slithering snake who creeps in to strike when the opportunity is right. Let me remind you Lively that I won the world title....and never....."
"Yeah, yeah never lost it. Save me the build up you jacked up monkey, cut the shit and let me know are you making a comeback or what."
"You would like to know wouldn't you."
Lively just shakes his head as Sabur shoves past him colliding shoulders together. Sabur's Lil Dick the midget made famous by his association with the APW superstar turns and flips Lively the bird. The JESUS a little flapped up by the confrontation with Sabur is not faced with Cindy Shannon and a camera starring him down.
"You know God Damn, a guy can't even catch a bite to eat. I got steroid infested Irishmen with midgets following them, and know a Herp infested cock slut who gargles with Spermicide to keep her mouth infections at bay, I just can't win."
"Yeah well fuck you too Michael Lively."
"Please, I wouldn't cram your juice box if it spit out hundred dollars bills with every pump. You are a filthy mcnasty and the world knows it."
"Well you arrogant, limp dicked, fatherless bastard I just wanted to a get a few words with you about tonights match up."
"No shit, I thought maybe you were going to drop to your knees and give me a rusty trombone. Of course thats what you want to know, thats what everyone wants to know. It's no secret Cindy that I don't get along with people."
"No, not you. Imagine Michael Lively not getting along with someone."
"Hard to believe, but it's true. Now the people are clamoring about how I can team up with Streets. Only the great Twister was able to coexist with Michael Lively. Well I must say Streets and I have a special bond, a arrangement if you will."
"That sounds gay, you two are broke backing it up hunh Lively?"
"What, hunh, no. Bitch I will slap the ever lasting shit right out of you if you ever imply that again. Back to the match. People need not worry how me and the Lord of the Streets work as a team. Tonight the proof will be in the pudding."
"Or will it be in hot yogurt as Streets slams it into the back of your throat."
Lively then places his hand on his chin as he looks toward the ground trying to keep his cool. Lively's eyes raise to meet the eyes of Cindy Shannon who just smirks because she realizes she is getting to Lively.
"You know Cindy, when I signed my contract prior to leaving, the APW put in a clause that when I touch the non talent in any manor that would be considered assault I would be fined. You my lady are considered non talent, and my attacks on Phil brought this about. You know something else...that contract was one of the highest paid contracts in APW history."
Lively then wraps his hands around the back of Cindy's neck as she screams in horror. With the Muai Thai clinch locked in Lively brings her face slamming into back to back knees. The woman is then released and slumps over on the ground. The JESUS smiles in such a sick manor and looks back up to the camera.
"That means I can afford the occasional fine here and there. Now that the cum trap is shut for the time being let me , the JESUS Michael Lively address tonights match. Slade Craven, how fitting is it that I just ran into The Irish Hammer Sabur. You might not know him but check him out. You two have so much in common by choking on countless title opportunities.difference is he actually succeeded at one point. You on the other hand keep beating the drum in the same manor expecting a different beat to pour out. Well lucky me, I get to find out exactly why you have yet won a title here in APW. I get to experience your overall suck ass-ness first hand. I will mark it down on my calendar, treasure this moment like the time I got to wrestle the Brooklyn Brawler. Both of you sick fucks have next to no talent, and are going nowhere. I'd say I'm worried but then again I'd be lying. You can't even muster up enough half witted skill to pin the Kid to the mat for three seconds.Then management made it even easier for you, they said just set him on fire. He wants nothing to do with the belt anymore, and you can't seem to beat him conventionally so just light him up and we will make you the champ. Some how you rode the short bus to the ring and didn't get the job done you fucking retard. You are a disappointment, a sad sack of shit that doesn't equate to the cheesy film that builds up on my balls when I break a sweat. Me and Streets beating you later on this evening will be the pinnacle of your career. This defeat you will suffer should be more success then any of your victories. In front of the television audience and an arena full of APW faithful you will have a glimmer of hope, a chance to rebirth this lame duck pitiful career you have attempted to build for yourself here. Once I bring your name into the spotlight as the sick fans chant for you all the while I'm punishing that ass in the ring, you will be given a second chance. You might learn a few things, pick up some moves that might help you get over that two foot hurdle you can't manage to lift your fat ass over. Having your come to JESUS meeting tonight will be like a circumcision. We will remove that useless foreskin, and expose that tender little helmet head letting it get some fresh air and sunlight. You will no longer be clouded by the darkness, and ugly shame that came with your uncircumcised old self. You will no longer looked upon as dirty or out casted. You will simply just become one of the average like Jason Royce, a simple dick looking like all the other dicks standing around ready to get beaten at a moments notice. There are very few monsters of cock here in APW, and my friend you are looking at the JESUS Dick that can't be out stroked, duplicated, or even overcome. This King Kong Dick will surely disgrace the Mario Kart cock that you seem to represent. It's all about size, and how you rip apart the target. You my friend can't even touch the side while I keep stretching that bitch out nightly. The point is Craven you aren't in my league, your aren't worthy to step in the ring with me, but doing so will defiantly raise your stock. It's just a shame that no matter how hard you try, you will always be a premature drizzler while I shot gun blast thick strings of greatness all over."
Lively looks down at Cindy Shannon who seems to be stirring. The camera sees Lively checking this and pans downward just as he reaches down clipping her with a right hook on the button sending her back to the slumber land of whore ville that she resides in every chance she sleeps. The JESUS then looks back up at the camera.
"Assassin, I bet you thought I had forgot about you. Maybe I didn't forget, I just figured you disappeared again. I mean this place has been full of magicians that seem to vanish in the blink of an eye. You see this trick is nothing new and doesn't amaze us anymore around APW. What would be a fancy trick, you maybe sticking it out long enough so I can firmly plant my foot up your ass before you magically blow three goats with one mouth. Thats truly amazing, and mind blowing, the best is how you never forget to take care of the balls, a true worker there."
Lively then walks to his left a bit to change the scenery and then leans up against the wall.
"Assassin, I really don't know much about you because I really could care less. You aren't even a blip on my radar. In fact this match will have no barring on my future. It's amazing that you people are the wins with something to win. I win and people will just get what they expected. If I lose they will get a momentary glimpse of joy, yet they all realize that it makes no difference. I will not be knocked down the ladder, I will not be moved to the lower card. In fact I have nothing to lose, I can't be moved because I put asses in seats, I make this game relevant and interesting. People wish to lay eyes on all my works in this sport. I am a top dog for a reason, because I am that fucking good. You, who knows, might have been something, somewhere, at sometime yet when that bell rings you will be standing in my shadow. Living up to Michael Lively and all that comes with me. I'm a bottled up Molotov cocktail of pure talent ready to ignite and engulf you with in my flames of success. You simply will be left behind as a pile of ashes, and no one will even realize let alone care. You could literally vanish once again, and people wouldn't even think twice about it. I mean your skills are sub par, and do not stand out among the rest of the roster. The fat pile of steaming shit that you call a move set will be so easily telegraphed as if you emailed me your entire strategy prior to the match. You're a slow worker that needs someone greater like myself to carry inside that ring. I can dance for a awhile attempting polish that filthy turd that you are, soon though I will tire of that, and the world will realize that a pile of shit is nothing more then a pile of shit. When me and Streets finish off with you two man sluts, the next time APW will use you as talent is for the company Christmas party as the target for pinning the tail on, cause you are simply a couple of Jackasses. That point will be proved crystal clear to even Mr. Magoo when the JESUS pisses on YOU!!!!!"
Lively then begins flexing like Hulk Hogan, cups his hand over his ear, then whips a super kick into the cameraman's face sending the equipment into static.
A fancy smile that would signify that Michael Lively is obviously pleased with himself is plastered all over his face as he flings the curtain to the side making his way back to the locker room. The man has just accomplished what he set out to do. He has earned himself a spot back on the APW roster. A mistake in judgment had cost him a lot over the past few months, but the self proclaimed savior of APW has fought his way back. He has been reinstated and can finally earn a pay check. This must please not only Lively, but his accountant slash personal manager Aaron Roberts. The cougar that runs the back halls of APW looking for a piece of mutton missile known otherwise as Terri Lively must also be pleased that her son had fulfilled his obligation, achieved his goal and got that lucrative contract up and rolling once again. Lively stops for a moment letting it sink in. Deep down inside he knew he had what it takes to win, to beat the Hurricane so he could once again suit up as an APW superstar. Having that confidence doesn't mean that he didn't have a doubt, or a worry that surely Jeff also had what it takes to put him down for the three count. It was a hell of a match, and both men fought hard and long to get what they wanted. Jeff surely had a taste of revenge while Lively got his redemption. The man has a seat toweling off his sweaty brow and looks around in pleasure as he is home. His career took off from APW, it was his first big break, and has a special place in his cold heart. His moment alone was then interrupted by his mother bouncing up to him all bubbly and joyful. Her tits hanging out of the bottom of her ripped and torn Michael Lively shirt. The fabric barely covering her nipples as Lively looks up in disgust toward his predator type mother.
"Wow...fresh off my win and here you are, in my face. Let me guess needing a hand out, wanting some money. Ready to get the schedule so I can book you on a bus while I jet set from city to city."
Lively then stands as his blood boils a bit. His anger is spilling over because it is just so much fun to torment his mother. Terri back pedals a bit as her son stalks toward her like a snake ready to strike as his words continue to berate her.
"You fucking leech, stuck to my testicles. I put in the work, I have to risk it all and for what so you can get a free ride. So you and Aaron can live your lifestyles. I had so much pressure because you can't make a name for yourself."
Lively then turns sideways readies his foot to plant one right in her suck hole. Just then the famous crack sound is heard getting Lively's attention as he hasn't yet struck his mother. His eyes catch the wonderous view of Streets Wilson front kicking Terri's knee hyper extending it. The woman screams in pain as he then follows it up swiftly with a knife hand chop to her throat. The woman flips backward to the ground clutching her wind pipe gasping for air. Streets then drops to a knee and wraps his Kung Fu like grip around the womans throat. His eyes look up to the JESUS who just looks on in a sick manor and then nods his head in approval.
Streets thinks for a moment about actually ripping her throat out, then decides to just flat palm strike the Cougar crushing her throat completely. Wilson then stands as Ms. Lively rolls around on the floor like a mute in pain trying to breath but struggling.
"Nice...now maybe that yappy bitch won't bug me with her useless talking."
Streets just looks at Lively deadly serious with an ice cold stare. Lively not sure how to take that decides to rebut the stare with one of his own. The two men get nose to nose trying to out stare the other. Lively then blinks.
"AHHH...you blinked...I knew you couldn't hang you little bitch."
"Lord of the Streets and King of Stare-zies you know I think I don't like you. Ohh...shit shes turning blue Streets."
Wilson then turns back to Terri Lively who seems to be loosing consciousness needing air desperately. Wilson grabs a pen, removes the ink cartridge and jams it into her trachea. Suddenly a slight whistle sound can be heard as the womans body is know getting air through the makeshift device Streets just came up with. Lively laughing at his mothers new Trech hole, and the nose coming from it holds his hand up to Streets as if letting him know he will be right back. Wilson then whips out a knife and begins cleaning his fingernails waiting for the return of the JESUS (aren't we all). Lively comes back grinning ear to ear.
"Here Streets try this."
Lively then holds out a Kazoo and Streets lets out a chuckle. The Lord of the Streets with much joy takes the child's toy and switches it out with the pen. The Kazoo in place then begins humming out a melodic tune as Terri Lively takes in each breath. Wilson then tries to regain his composure and now motions to Lively that he will be right back.
"Close your eyes Mike....this one is going to be good."
Lively closes his eyes briefly and then is told to open them just as Streets plunges a party blower into the womans neck. The birthday favor then begins roiling and unrolling with each breath makes a very distinctive "BROOOO" horn sound. The JESUS falls over laughing at the sight of his mother with a party favor stuck in her neck. Streets very proud of his handy work then decides to call one of the paramedics on hand for the event. The paramedic and his partner arrive on the scene with the equipment. Both in shock look toward Streets asking what happened. Wilson looks at them and delivers a crisp, clean, solid answer.
"Listen fellas this was clearly a wrestling gimmick gone wrong. She was supposed to take a bump and leaned into it the wrong way."
"Leaned into it the wrong way, she has a party blower in her throat."
Wilson shrugs his shoulders as the paramedics load the woman onto a stretcher to get her medical attention. Just as they buckle Ms. Lively onto the gerny President Jeff walks by looking very disgusted by the two men having a ball.
"You two clowns look like your having a blast, so to continue your party let us see how you fuckers handle in the ring competition. I'm booking you two in a tag team match against Slade Craven and the returning Assassin."
Lively looks as Jeff as he mutters out the match, then he turns toward Streets who looks at him oh so puzzled. The two then burst into laughter. Lively and Streets bump into each other holding their stomach and point at Jeff as if his match making was ridiculous. Jeff furiously storms off leaving the two men to bask in their laughter.
NEXT WEEK
Inside the locker room of the White Lion Michael Lively is a newly formed tag team. Streets Wilson and Michael Lively have joined forces to tangle with the unstoppable force of Assassin and Slade Craven. The JESUS walks into the bathroom fresh from his shower wearing a new pair of air brushed tights. The front reads "I'm back" while the rear has a picture of Lively on cross pissing on the people below who seems o be worshiping him, tasteless I know yet so fitting for this bastard of wrestling. He looks in the mirror and begins straight razoring his five o'clock shadow from his face. Once down the man gives his neck and cheek a pat down with some hot water and then turns to finish getting ready. As he enters the room Streets gets his attention with a subtle whistle. Ms. Lively fresh from her trip to the hospital last week lays on the couch with a breathing tube jammed in her neck hole attached to a machine to assist her breathing efforts. Streets creeps over to the sleeping woman then pulls the tube from her neck hole softly and acts like he is now fucking the hole. Lively begins chuckling as Wilson pumps back and forth toward the womans damaged neck. Wilson is then startled by the woman making a loud gurgling sound needed air. The Lord of the Streets then slams the tube back in her neck hole ans has a seat. The force of this wakes Ms. Lively from her eyes then fill with tears. Lively shakes his head as he smiles at Streets actions.
"You know we are bad news together. I swear we might be nothing but trouble for this company."
Wilson shakes his head and waves his arm at Lively as if he's crazy. The JESUS then exits the locker room to head for the craft services tent to grab a bite to eat before the match later. Lively makes it around the corner and is stopped dead in his tracks. Something he thought he may never see again enters his view. A large Irish man with a Lil Dick between his legs.
"Sabur??"
"Well if it ain't Michael Lively..."
"Yep it is Michael Lively. Hows the leg?"
"Hows your contract?"
"Reinstated, now what about you. Are you healed up..."
"Why you want take a turn with the Human Wrecking Machine"
"Please I already beat you a few times, besides the company might need you to choke it up in all the title matches again."
"Wow, big words from the slithering snake who creeps in to strike when the opportunity is right. Let me remind you Lively that I won the world title....and never....."
"Yeah, yeah never lost it. Save me the build up you jacked up monkey, cut the shit and let me know are you making a comeback or what."
"You would like to know wouldn't you."
Lively just shakes his head as Sabur shoves past him colliding shoulders together. Sabur's Lil Dick the midget made famous by his association with the APW superstar turns and flips Lively the bird. The JESUS a little flapped up by the confrontation with Sabur is not faced with Cindy Shannon and a camera starring him down.
"You know God Damn, a guy can't even catch a bite to eat. I got steroid infested Irishmen with midgets following them, and know a Herp infested cock slut who gargles with Spermicide to keep her mouth infections at bay, I just can't win."
"Yeah well fuck you too Michael Lively."
"Please, I wouldn't cram your juice box if it spit out hundred dollars bills with every pump. You are a filthy mcnasty and the world knows it."
"Well you arrogant, limp dicked, fatherless bastard I just wanted to a get a few words with you about tonights match up."
"No shit, I thought maybe you were going to drop to your knees and give me a rusty trombone. Of course thats what you want to know, thats what everyone wants to know. It's no secret Cindy that I don't get along with people."
"No, not you. Imagine Michael Lively not getting along with someone."
"Hard to believe, but it's true. Now the people are clamoring about how I can team up with Streets. Only the great Twister was able to coexist with Michael Lively. Well I must say Streets and I have a special bond, a arrangement if you will."
"That sounds gay, you two are broke backing it up hunh Lively?"
"What, hunh, no. Bitch I will slap the ever lasting shit right out of you if you ever imply that again. Back to the match. People need not worry how me and the Lord of the Streets work as a team. Tonight the proof will be in the pudding."
"Or will it be in hot yogurt as Streets slams it into the back of your throat."
Lively then places his hand on his chin as he looks toward the ground trying to keep his cool. Lively's eyes raise to meet the eyes of Cindy Shannon who just smirks because she realizes she is getting to Lively.
"You know Cindy, when I signed my contract prior to leaving, the APW put in a clause that when I touch the non talent in any manor that would be considered assault I would be fined. You my lady are considered non talent, and my attacks on Phil brought this about. You know something else...that contract was one of the highest paid contracts in APW history."
Lively then wraps his hands around the back of Cindy's neck as she screams in horror. With the Muai Thai clinch locked in Lively brings her face slamming into back to back knees. The woman is then released and slumps over on the ground. The JESUS smiles in such a sick manor and looks back up to the camera.
"That means I can afford the occasional fine here and there. Now that the cum trap is shut for the time being let me , the JESUS Michael Lively address tonights match. Slade Craven, how fitting is it that I just ran into The Irish Hammer Sabur. You might not know him but check him out. You two have so much in common by choking on countless title opportunities.difference is he actually succeeded at one point. You on the other hand keep beating the drum in the same manor expecting a different beat to pour out. Well lucky me, I get to find out exactly why you have yet won a title here in APW. I get to experience your overall suck ass-ness first hand. I will mark it down on my calendar, treasure this moment like the time I got to wrestle the Brooklyn Brawler. Both of you sick fucks have next to no talent, and are going nowhere. I'd say I'm worried but then again I'd be lying. You can't even muster up enough half witted skill to pin the Kid to the mat for three seconds.Then management made it even easier for you, they said just set him on fire. He wants nothing to do with the belt anymore, and you can't seem to beat him conventionally so just light him up and we will make you the champ. Some how you rode the short bus to the ring and didn't get the job done you fucking retard. You are a disappointment, a sad sack of shit that doesn't equate to the cheesy film that builds up on my balls when I break a sweat. Me and Streets beating you later on this evening will be the pinnacle of your career. This defeat you will suffer should be more success then any of your victories. In front of the television audience and an arena full of APW faithful you will have a glimmer of hope, a chance to rebirth this lame duck pitiful career you have attempted to build for yourself here. Once I bring your name into the spotlight as the sick fans chant for you all the while I'm punishing that ass in the ring, you will be given a second chance. You might learn a few things, pick up some moves that might help you get over that two foot hurdle you can't manage to lift your fat ass over. Having your come to JESUS meeting tonight will be like a circumcision. We will remove that useless foreskin, and expose that tender little helmet head letting it get some fresh air and sunlight. You will no longer be clouded by the darkness, and ugly shame that came with your uncircumcised old self. You will no longer looked upon as dirty or out casted. You will simply just become one of the average like Jason Royce, a simple dick looking like all the other dicks standing around ready to get beaten at a moments notice. There are very few monsters of cock here in APW, and my friend you are looking at the JESUS Dick that can't be out stroked, duplicated, or even overcome. This King Kong Dick will surely disgrace the Mario Kart cock that you seem to represent. It's all about size, and how you rip apart the target. You my friend can't even touch the side while I keep stretching that bitch out nightly. The point is Craven you aren't in my league, your aren't worthy to step in the ring with me, but doing so will defiantly raise your stock. It's just a shame that no matter how hard you try, you will always be a premature drizzler while I shot gun blast thick strings of greatness all over."
Lively looks down at Cindy Shannon who seems to be stirring. The camera sees Lively checking this and pans downward just as he reaches down clipping her with a right hook on the button sending her back to the slumber land of whore ville that she resides in every chance she sleeps. The JESUS then looks back up at the camera.
"Assassin, I bet you thought I had forgot about you. Maybe I didn't forget, I just figured you disappeared again. I mean this place has been full of magicians that seem to vanish in the blink of an eye. You see this trick is nothing new and doesn't amaze us anymore around APW. What would be a fancy trick, you maybe sticking it out long enough so I can firmly plant my foot up your ass before you magically blow three goats with one mouth. Thats truly amazing, and mind blowing, the best is how you never forget to take care of the balls, a true worker there."
Lively then walks to his left a bit to change the scenery and then leans up against the wall.
"Assassin, I really don't know much about you because I really could care less. You aren't even a blip on my radar. In fact this match will have no barring on my future. It's amazing that you people are the wins with something to win. I win and people will just get what they expected. If I lose they will get a momentary glimpse of joy, yet they all realize that it makes no difference. I will not be knocked down the ladder, I will not be moved to the lower card. In fact I have nothing to lose, I can't be moved because I put asses in seats, I make this game relevant and interesting. People wish to lay eyes on all my works in this sport. I am a top dog for a reason, because I am that fucking good. You, who knows, might have been something, somewhere, at sometime yet when that bell rings you will be standing in my shadow. Living up to Michael Lively and all that comes with me. I'm a bottled up Molotov cocktail of pure talent ready to ignite and engulf you with in my flames of success. You simply will be left behind as a pile of ashes, and no one will even realize let alone care. You could literally vanish once again, and people wouldn't even think twice about it. I mean your skills are sub par, and do not stand out among the rest of the roster. The fat pile of steaming shit that you call a move set will be so easily telegraphed as if you emailed me your entire strategy prior to the match. You're a slow worker that needs someone greater like myself to carry inside that ring. I can dance for a awhile attempting polish that filthy turd that you are, soon though I will tire of that, and the world will realize that a pile of shit is nothing more then a pile of shit. When me and Streets finish off with you two man sluts, the next time APW will use you as talent is for the company Christmas party as the target for pinning the tail on, cause you are simply a couple of Jackasses. That point will be proved crystal clear to even Mr. Magoo when the JESUS pisses on YOU!!!!!"
Lively then begins flexing like Hulk Hogan, cups his hand over his ear, then whips a super kick into the cameraman's face sending the equipment into static.
