Post by Pepsi on Mar 23, 2012 20:26:43 GMT -4
*Billy Pepsi paces around his living room. He stops and stares at his laptop computer. He is not his usual bubbly self. It's almost as if someone has taken the pep out of his Pepsi. Anyways, something seems to be greatly troubling the strapping young lad. He sits down at his desk in a huff, opens the laptop and activates the webcam.*
BILLY: Pepsi Party... woo... hoo.
*Billy delivers the woo hoo as half hearted as a redneck at a vegan buffet.*
BILLY: I'm sorry everyone, I know you've all been waiting to hear from me, but I just don`t have the same excitement in me that I normally do. I am sick and tired of being treated like the wussy little retard. I pull off the prank of the century on Finn McGannigan, and no one even believes that I was the one who did it. Do I really seem so weak and pathetic? Oh who am I kidding no one`s even gonna watch this video. Nobody but that fatso Sheila McNeila from down by the bay.
*Billy slams his laptop shut. He looks over at his quote of the day tear away calender. A glimmer of excitement comes as he tears away the page and reads today`s quote.*
*Billy crumples it up and throws it out the window.*
BILLY: As if everything else wasn't bad enough, now even Homer Simpson has turned against me. I just can't take it anymore. Why will no one believe that I'm tough?
*Billy suddenly realizes he is talking to himself and is slightly embarrassed. At this point you may be asking, how can he be alone if there is a camera crew filming his every word. Now to everyone who asked that question I say this, grab a steel toe boot, hold it next to your head, and hit yourself real hard. Ha that'll teach you to suck the fun of everything. Anyways, suddenly there is a knock at the door. Billy lights up with pure glee. He rushes to the door, and opens it with a huge grin, but his grin soon turns to disappointment as he sees his old foe, and current paraplegic Finn McGannigan.*
BILLY: Oh, it's you.
FINN: Sorry to disappoint.
BILLY: No, it's not your fault, I was just kind of expecting to see Homer Simpson at the door. Come on in Finn.
*Finn shakes his head with the same confusion we all share over Billy's unrealistic expectations. He then wheels his wheelchair in and pulls up to the table Billy is now seated at.*
BILLY: So Finn, what brings you here today?
FINN: I know it was you Billy.
BILLY: Whatever are you talking about?
*Billy says this while casually grabbing a spoon and hiding it behind his back. You are probably wondering what kind of damage he thinks he can do with a spoon, but don't worry one day you'll learn to stop wondering why Billy does the things he does.*
FINN: I know you were the one who tied me to the oak tree.
*Billy clenches his fist around the spoon with a white knuckled grip, preparing to defend himself.*
BILLY: I want a lawyer.
FINN: Relax Billy, I actually thought it was a pretty cool prank.
*Billy's defense posture turns to one of shock. He drops the spoon.*
BILLY: You did?
FINN: Sure did. I gotta admit, I was pretty surprised you pulled it off. I never thought you had it in you.
BILLY: Most of the people in this town don't believe that I even was the one who did it.
FINN: Billy, nobody believes you did it. In fact when I told Constable McMurty that you were the one who did it he laughed for an hour.
BILLY: Story of my life Finn.
FINN: I was wondering what changed in you and I found a couple of your APW matches on You Tube. I have to say, I was pretty impressed.
BILLY: You're probably the only person in this town who has actually watched my matches. Well, except for Sheila McNeila from down by the bay.
FINN: Sheila McNeila from down by the bay?
BILLY: Yeah, you know down by the bay where the watermelons grow.
*The lightbulb goes off an Finn remembers, not a real lightbulb of course. Were speaking figuratively here.*
FINN: Oh yeah, Sheila. Are you two lovebirds still together?
BILLY: Yuck! We were never lovebirds. That was a rumor started by you, to embarrass me.
FINN: Oh come on she's not that bad.
BILLY: She looks like the love child of Adolf Hitler, and the Rosie O'Donnell.
FINN: She doesn't look like Adolf Hitler.
BILLY: Your right. Hitler could never grow a mustache as big as hers. It has freaking handlebars Finn.
*Finn shakes his head in disgust.*
FINN: Listen, the reason I came here was not to talk about Sheila.
BILLY: Why didn't you tell me. I'll never be able to ride a bike again, unless they make one without handlebars.
FINN: THE REASON I CAME HERE...
BILLY: Freaking handlebars Finn.
*Finn winds up and slaps Billy hard across the face.*
FINN: Would you shut up about the handlebars?
BILLY: I'll try, but once I get a mental picture it's pretty hard to get rid of.
*Finn takes a few deep breaths to get rid of his frustrations. You can tell that Billy is still picturing Sheila McNeila Riding a bicycle using her mustache as handlebars, and be honest now that I've mentioned it, you're picturing it too.*
FINN: Now, as I was trying to say, I came here to offer some help. It seems to me you have a problem, and I would like to be the solution to your problem.
BILLY: Unless you can erase images from peoples minds, I don't think there's anything you can help me with.
FINN: Look you've got talent in the ring, but no one takes you seriously. Not your family, not your neighbors, not your opponents, even your teammates this Sunday think you're useless.
BILLY: That's because there a bunch of jerkfaced, buttheaded, penisbreaths.
*Again Finn shakes his head with utter befuzzlement. I'm sure befuzzlement isn't a word but it's the only way to explain how Finn feels about Billy's previous statement.*
FINN: Or maybe it's because you haven't given them a reason to see you as anything different. You come across like a mouthy little brat with short guy syndrome. I can make you tough. Join me Billy, and together we can destroy...
BILLY: The Sith?
*Finn look at Billy in awe of his stupidity.*
FINN: Destroy the notion that your some weak little runt. Are you kidding me with the Star Wars quote? I'm trying to make you look tough, not like some geeky little Big Bang Theory reject kid with a Lightsaber. Anyways, will you let me help you.
BILLY: Can you make me tough before Sunday?
FINN: Lord no! It's gonna take me a heck of a lot longer than that. I'm talking about a long term commitment. I'm talking about letting me be your manager.
BILLY: What do you know about being a manager?
FINN: I don't know anything about being a wrestling manager, but I know how to be tough. I had every kid in this town terrified of me. It wasn't because I was bigger, stronger, faster, and better looking. It was because of my confidence. That's what you need Billy, good old confidence. I can help you get it. Take some time and think it over. We'll talk after Rasselmania.
*Finn wheels himself away. Billy scoffs as the door shuts.*
BILLY: That big lug was never better looking than me.
*Billy gets up and paces around a bit. He looks back at his laptop. He sits down and opens his laptop with the loads of vim and vinegar we've come to expect from him. Billy activates the webcam.*
BILLY: Alright, let's try this again. It's time for the PEPSI PARTY!!!! Can I get a Hoot Hoot, Raise the roof!!!
*Billy actually does the raise the roof motion with his hands. I don't know if you just heard that thud, that was the sound of thousands of facepalms around the world.*
BILLY: That's right, it's the special Rasselmania edition of the Pepsi Party. I'm your host with the most... uh post.... cereal.... uh..... BILLY PEPSI! I am here to tell you why I will be the last man standing this Sunday at Rasselmania. Now I know you're thinking, hey Billy don't you want your partners to survive the match as well? The answer to that question is this, I'm a survivor not a miracle worker. I mean really, we've got a fresh off the boat immigrant trying to make a better life for his family, an oversized geriatric dock working oaf, and speaking of geriatrics we have Andy Griffith himself. Now I know what you're thinking now, you're thinking hey Billy, Isamu Suzuki didn't come straight of the boat, Frank Cannon though old is not geriatric, and Matt Matlock is not actually Andy Griffith. To those people I say nobody cares what you think. The fact is my partners are all losers. That's why I will step forward, and with CONFIDENCE, I will offer myself up to lead this team of misfits. Seeing as I was the only one who actually earned my spot in this match, unlike the rest of you who were just handed the spot by our nincompoop GM. In fact Frank Cannon was just a last resort to replace our former captain who's staying home with a stubbed toe. I had to fight for my spot, therefore I will announce myself as Team Captain of Team Asylum. Now that we've gotten that out of the way let me just say to my partners, I know you are useless, unimaginative, boring, talentless, hacks, but that's ok. I'm not mad at you. Just stay out of my way and let me lead you to glory my peasants, for I am your King. As a matter of fact I don't want to be called Captain anymore, I want to be called King. That's right Billy Pepsi King of Asylum. Grovel at my feet little ones. I am your King and this battle shall be mine.
I hope the members of Team Overdrive are taking notice. I'm gonna put all you lowly maggots under my feet. Starting with Yarmouth, the man who says he's too good for Asylum. I personally am surprised he even knows how to spell Asylum. Don't think I didn't hear how you trashed me on your cute little father son jog. I had kind of hoped for you to say something more creative than 'he's a dumb ass kid'. Of course I shouldn't have expected more, after all no one knows dumb better than good old Yarmouth. Sure Yarmouth may look like a big tough guy, but really how tough can he be. The guy always has his Daddy following him around. I don't know about everyone else, but when I have a fight coming I don't run to Daddy. To me Yarmouth is just another paint by numbers tough guy wannabe. Just like old Odin Balfore, and look how easily I disposed of that big 3rd century oaf. The tough guy persona doesn't scare me one bit, especially when coming from a guy hiding behind his Daddy. Make a note Mouthy, yes I will be calling you mouthy from now on because all you are to me is another big guy who is all talk. So make a note Mouthy, if you want to talk about taking my soul in your possession grab a pitchfork, put on some red facepaint and leave Daddy in the retirement home where he belongs.
Hey, speaking of facepaint Donovan Caine is in this match, and speaking of possessing souls he hails from a shallow grave. Really Donovan, I thought you should know Brandon Lee came back from the dead and he wants his gimmick back. Seriously man, the facepaint is lame. This isn't the 90's anymore. People are no longer under the mistaken assumption that being depressed is cool, Marilyn Manson is no longer tearing up the charts, Black Trenchcoats haven't been cool since Columbine, and facepaint is beyond gay. Maybe back in the 90's when goth was considered cool, hanging around graveyards was acceptable behavior. I mean back then you could probably call yourself The Graveyard Stalker and you'd have hundreds of gothic virgins desperate to have your baby. Nowadays we have a word for people who hang around graveyards, it's called Necrophiliac. Ewwww... seriously man, I think it may be time for you to get a new hobby. Let the truth be known. Your real name is probably Donovan Humperdink. You were raised on a country club somewhere on the Scottish Isles. They didn't have proper TV service so all you got was 15 year old programming so when you decided to rebel against your parents you thought this would be a cool way to do it. It's ok Mr. Humperdink, we understand. You can drop the act and embrace the new way to rebel against your parents. Live in there basement till your 40, and play video games. It's a new day Humperdink, leave the graveyard behind, there's a nice cozy basement with a lazyboy chair that has your name on it. It may not be much, but you'll never be worth anything more.
Don't think I have forgotten about you Warren Peace. I had high hopes for you, but alas it turns out your just another dork with Daddy issues. Newsflash for you Warren Peace, if that is your real name, everyone has a father, everyone's father sucks, the sooner you realize this and get over it the better of we'll all be. Seriously man, your whole purpose for being in this business is to carry out some strange form of revenge on your deadbeat dad. I think you have things a little messed up here. That's not how you handle this type of situation. What you should have done brought your Dad on Dr. Phil. That would have saved us all so much trouble. We only would have had to witness the saga for about 30 minutes. Instead we are subject to this dreadful revolution of yours week in and week out. If I wanted to watch someone hash out there daddy issues, I would dress up like Tom Sellick and pick up some underage girl from the local bar. At least that way would be entertaining. Illegal, but entertaining. Your little revolution fizzled out with a whimper. Now we have seen the birth of the new Warren Peace, rising from the ashes like the mighty Phoenix we have Warren Peace, Corporate kiss up. All the new Warren wants to do is to prove to President Jeff that he is worthy of being on Team Overdrive. Come on Warren isn't it clear what's going on here. I mean I've watched enough Dr. Phil to know that all you are doing is transferring all of the need for acknowledgement you had from your Dad onto Jeff's shoulders. You're not a new Warren, you just found yourself a new Daddy. Therefore from henceforth, you shall be known as Jeff jr. Unfortunately for you, you are bound to disappoint your new Daddy, as you like the rest of your teammates will be on the losing end. Now that I think about it, your real Dad was actually pretty smart for abandoning you. He must have known that you would be a failure.
Finally we have Captain Metro himself, Chris Hart. The only man in this match who is prettier than me, and that's not a compliment. I used to always get mocked for my gelled hair, and my plucked eyebrows, and my waxed body, but you take metrosexual to a whole new level. Instead of swapping hair gel tips with you I feel like I should be asking for your manicurists phone number, and I swore I would never get a manicure. Don't be offended Chris, I think you're a decent guy, but I must admit I am getting tired of watching you pine for the scraps from Kurt Noble's table. Haven't you sat in his shadow long enough. Maybe if you got out from under his shadow you wouldn't have to use tan in a can, and you could get some real sun on your skin. I would just love to see you break free of being second fiddle, but the truth is you know you're not good enough. You my friend are no Kurt Noble. Wake up smell the coffee, give your little boyfriend Kurt a kiss goodbye, cut him loose, sleep with his wife, cut her loose and be free little birdie. Just please, whatever you do, do it quickly because if I hear the name Kurt Noble drop out of your mouth one more time I'm pretty sure I will puke. Be your own man, be Chris Hart, Metroman. Whenever you have a hair emergency he will be there shooting hair gel from his eyes. Just get rid of this Noble obsession, it does not serve you well.
So to bring this all to a wonderful crescendo, whether your name is Mouthy, Humperdink, Jeff Jr, or Metroman, you will all fall to King Billy the Great. I will lead my pathetic army and defeat all of you losers singlehandedly. I will do this all with my new found confidence. At the end of the night you all can remember the immortal words of the great Homer Simpson, 'Kids, you tried your best and you failed miserably. The lesson is, never try.' You all will learn that lesson well as the fans at Rasselmania all shout out in unison Long Live The King.[/b]
BILLY: Pepsi Party... woo... hoo.
*Billy delivers the woo hoo as half hearted as a redneck at a vegan buffet.*
BILLY: I'm sorry everyone, I know you've all been waiting to hear from me, but I just don`t have the same excitement in me that I normally do. I am sick and tired of being treated like the wussy little retard. I pull off the prank of the century on Finn McGannigan, and no one even believes that I was the one who did it. Do I really seem so weak and pathetic? Oh who am I kidding no one`s even gonna watch this video. Nobody but that fatso Sheila McNeila from down by the bay.
*Billy slams his laptop shut. He looks over at his quote of the day tear away calender. A glimmer of excitement comes as he tears away the page and reads today`s quote.*
March 23, 2012
Kids, you tried your best and you failed miserably. The lesson is, never try.
--Homer Simpson---
[/center]Kids, you tried your best and you failed miserably. The lesson is, never try.
--Homer Simpson---
*Billy crumples it up and throws it out the window.*
BILLY: As if everything else wasn't bad enough, now even Homer Simpson has turned against me. I just can't take it anymore. Why will no one believe that I'm tough?
*Billy suddenly realizes he is talking to himself and is slightly embarrassed. At this point you may be asking, how can he be alone if there is a camera crew filming his every word. Now to everyone who asked that question I say this, grab a steel toe boot, hold it next to your head, and hit yourself real hard. Ha that'll teach you to suck the fun of everything. Anyways, suddenly there is a knock at the door. Billy lights up with pure glee. He rushes to the door, and opens it with a huge grin, but his grin soon turns to disappointment as he sees his old foe, and current paraplegic Finn McGannigan.*
BILLY: Oh, it's you.
FINN: Sorry to disappoint.
BILLY: No, it's not your fault, I was just kind of expecting to see Homer Simpson at the door. Come on in Finn.
*Finn shakes his head with the same confusion we all share over Billy's unrealistic expectations. He then wheels his wheelchair in and pulls up to the table Billy is now seated at.*
BILLY: So Finn, what brings you here today?
FINN: I know it was you Billy.
BILLY: Whatever are you talking about?
*Billy says this while casually grabbing a spoon and hiding it behind his back. You are probably wondering what kind of damage he thinks he can do with a spoon, but don't worry one day you'll learn to stop wondering why Billy does the things he does.*
FINN: I know you were the one who tied me to the oak tree.
*Billy clenches his fist around the spoon with a white knuckled grip, preparing to defend himself.*
BILLY: I want a lawyer.
FINN: Relax Billy, I actually thought it was a pretty cool prank.
*Billy's defense posture turns to one of shock. He drops the spoon.*
BILLY: You did?
FINN: Sure did. I gotta admit, I was pretty surprised you pulled it off. I never thought you had it in you.
BILLY: Most of the people in this town don't believe that I even was the one who did it.
FINN: Billy, nobody believes you did it. In fact when I told Constable McMurty that you were the one who did it he laughed for an hour.
BILLY: Story of my life Finn.
FINN: I was wondering what changed in you and I found a couple of your APW matches on You Tube. I have to say, I was pretty impressed.
BILLY: You're probably the only person in this town who has actually watched my matches. Well, except for Sheila McNeila from down by the bay.
FINN: Sheila McNeila from down by the bay?
BILLY: Yeah, you know down by the bay where the watermelons grow.
*The lightbulb goes off an Finn remembers, not a real lightbulb of course. Were speaking figuratively here.*
FINN: Oh yeah, Sheila. Are you two lovebirds still together?
BILLY: Yuck! We were never lovebirds. That was a rumor started by you, to embarrass me.
FINN: Oh come on she's not that bad.
BILLY: She looks like the love child of Adolf Hitler, and the Rosie O'Donnell.
FINN: She doesn't look like Adolf Hitler.
BILLY: Your right. Hitler could never grow a mustache as big as hers. It has freaking handlebars Finn.
*Finn shakes his head in disgust.*
FINN: Listen, the reason I came here was not to talk about Sheila.
BILLY: Why didn't you tell me. I'll never be able to ride a bike again, unless they make one without handlebars.
FINN: THE REASON I CAME HERE...
BILLY: Freaking handlebars Finn.
*Finn winds up and slaps Billy hard across the face.*
FINN: Would you shut up about the handlebars?
BILLY: I'll try, but once I get a mental picture it's pretty hard to get rid of.
*Finn takes a few deep breaths to get rid of his frustrations. You can tell that Billy is still picturing Sheila McNeila Riding a bicycle using her mustache as handlebars, and be honest now that I've mentioned it, you're picturing it too.*
FINN: Now, as I was trying to say, I came here to offer some help. It seems to me you have a problem, and I would like to be the solution to your problem.
BILLY: Unless you can erase images from peoples minds, I don't think there's anything you can help me with.
FINN: Look you've got talent in the ring, but no one takes you seriously. Not your family, not your neighbors, not your opponents, even your teammates this Sunday think you're useless.
BILLY: That's because there a bunch of jerkfaced, buttheaded, penisbreaths.
*Again Finn shakes his head with utter befuzzlement. I'm sure befuzzlement isn't a word but it's the only way to explain how Finn feels about Billy's previous statement.*
FINN: Or maybe it's because you haven't given them a reason to see you as anything different. You come across like a mouthy little brat with short guy syndrome. I can make you tough. Join me Billy, and together we can destroy...
BILLY: The Sith?
*Finn look at Billy in awe of his stupidity.*
FINN: Destroy the notion that your some weak little runt. Are you kidding me with the Star Wars quote? I'm trying to make you look tough, not like some geeky little Big Bang Theory reject kid with a Lightsaber. Anyways, will you let me help you.
BILLY: Can you make me tough before Sunday?
FINN: Lord no! It's gonna take me a heck of a lot longer than that. I'm talking about a long term commitment. I'm talking about letting me be your manager.
BILLY: What do you know about being a manager?
FINN: I don't know anything about being a wrestling manager, but I know how to be tough. I had every kid in this town terrified of me. It wasn't because I was bigger, stronger, faster, and better looking. It was because of my confidence. That's what you need Billy, good old confidence. I can help you get it. Take some time and think it over. We'll talk after Rasselmania.
*Finn wheels himself away. Billy scoffs as the door shuts.*
BILLY: That big lug was never better looking than me.
*Billy gets up and paces around a bit. He looks back at his laptop. He sits down and opens his laptop with the loads of vim and vinegar we've come to expect from him. Billy activates the webcam.*
BILLY: Alright, let's try this again. It's time for the PEPSI PARTY!!!! Can I get a Hoot Hoot, Raise the roof!!!
*Billy actually does the raise the roof motion with his hands. I don't know if you just heard that thud, that was the sound of thousands of facepalms around the world.*
BILLY: That's right, it's the special Rasselmania edition of the Pepsi Party. I'm your host with the most... uh post.... cereal.... uh..... BILLY PEPSI! I am here to tell you why I will be the last man standing this Sunday at Rasselmania. Now I know you're thinking, hey Billy don't you want your partners to survive the match as well? The answer to that question is this, I'm a survivor not a miracle worker. I mean really, we've got a fresh off the boat immigrant trying to make a better life for his family, an oversized geriatric dock working oaf, and speaking of geriatrics we have Andy Griffith himself. Now I know what you're thinking now, you're thinking hey Billy, Isamu Suzuki didn't come straight of the boat, Frank Cannon though old is not geriatric, and Matt Matlock is not actually Andy Griffith. To those people I say nobody cares what you think. The fact is my partners are all losers. That's why I will step forward, and with CONFIDENCE, I will offer myself up to lead this team of misfits. Seeing as I was the only one who actually earned my spot in this match, unlike the rest of you who were just handed the spot by our nincompoop GM. In fact Frank Cannon was just a last resort to replace our former captain who's staying home with a stubbed toe. I had to fight for my spot, therefore I will announce myself as Team Captain of Team Asylum. Now that we've gotten that out of the way let me just say to my partners, I know you are useless, unimaginative, boring, talentless, hacks, but that's ok. I'm not mad at you. Just stay out of my way and let me lead you to glory my peasants, for I am your King. As a matter of fact I don't want to be called Captain anymore, I want to be called King. That's right Billy Pepsi King of Asylum. Grovel at my feet little ones. I am your King and this battle shall be mine.
I hope the members of Team Overdrive are taking notice. I'm gonna put all you lowly maggots under my feet. Starting with Yarmouth, the man who says he's too good for Asylum. I personally am surprised he even knows how to spell Asylum. Don't think I didn't hear how you trashed me on your cute little father son jog. I had kind of hoped for you to say something more creative than 'he's a dumb ass kid'. Of course I shouldn't have expected more, after all no one knows dumb better than good old Yarmouth. Sure Yarmouth may look like a big tough guy, but really how tough can he be. The guy always has his Daddy following him around. I don't know about everyone else, but when I have a fight coming I don't run to Daddy. To me Yarmouth is just another paint by numbers tough guy wannabe. Just like old Odin Balfore, and look how easily I disposed of that big 3rd century oaf. The tough guy persona doesn't scare me one bit, especially when coming from a guy hiding behind his Daddy. Make a note Mouthy, yes I will be calling you mouthy from now on because all you are to me is another big guy who is all talk. So make a note Mouthy, if you want to talk about taking my soul in your possession grab a pitchfork, put on some red facepaint and leave Daddy in the retirement home where he belongs.
Hey, speaking of facepaint Donovan Caine is in this match, and speaking of possessing souls he hails from a shallow grave. Really Donovan, I thought you should know Brandon Lee came back from the dead and he wants his gimmick back. Seriously man, the facepaint is lame. This isn't the 90's anymore. People are no longer under the mistaken assumption that being depressed is cool, Marilyn Manson is no longer tearing up the charts, Black Trenchcoats haven't been cool since Columbine, and facepaint is beyond gay. Maybe back in the 90's when goth was considered cool, hanging around graveyards was acceptable behavior. I mean back then you could probably call yourself The Graveyard Stalker and you'd have hundreds of gothic virgins desperate to have your baby. Nowadays we have a word for people who hang around graveyards, it's called Necrophiliac. Ewwww... seriously man, I think it may be time for you to get a new hobby. Let the truth be known. Your real name is probably Donovan Humperdink. You were raised on a country club somewhere on the Scottish Isles. They didn't have proper TV service so all you got was 15 year old programming so when you decided to rebel against your parents you thought this would be a cool way to do it. It's ok Mr. Humperdink, we understand. You can drop the act and embrace the new way to rebel against your parents. Live in there basement till your 40, and play video games. It's a new day Humperdink, leave the graveyard behind, there's a nice cozy basement with a lazyboy chair that has your name on it. It may not be much, but you'll never be worth anything more.
Don't think I have forgotten about you Warren Peace. I had high hopes for you, but alas it turns out your just another dork with Daddy issues. Newsflash for you Warren Peace, if that is your real name, everyone has a father, everyone's father sucks, the sooner you realize this and get over it the better of we'll all be. Seriously man, your whole purpose for being in this business is to carry out some strange form of revenge on your deadbeat dad. I think you have things a little messed up here. That's not how you handle this type of situation. What you should have done brought your Dad on Dr. Phil. That would have saved us all so much trouble. We only would have had to witness the saga for about 30 minutes. Instead we are subject to this dreadful revolution of yours week in and week out. If I wanted to watch someone hash out there daddy issues, I would dress up like Tom Sellick and pick up some underage girl from the local bar. At least that way would be entertaining. Illegal, but entertaining. Your little revolution fizzled out with a whimper. Now we have seen the birth of the new Warren Peace, rising from the ashes like the mighty Phoenix we have Warren Peace, Corporate kiss up. All the new Warren wants to do is to prove to President Jeff that he is worthy of being on Team Overdrive. Come on Warren isn't it clear what's going on here. I mean I've watched enough Dr. Phil to know that all you are doing is transferring all of the need for acknowledgement you had from your Dad onto Jeff's shoulders. You're not a new Warren, you just found yourself a new Daddy. Therefore from henceforth, you shall be known as Jeff jr. Unfortunately for you, you are bound to disappoint your new Daddy, as you like the rest of your teammates will be on the losing end. Now that I think about it, your real Dad was actually pretty smart for abandoning you. He must have known that you would be a failure.
Finally we have Captain Metro himself, Chris Hart. The only man in this match who is prettier than me, and that's not a compliment. I used to always get mocked for my gelled hair, and my plucked eyebrows, and my waxed body, but you take metrosexual to a whole new level. Instead of swapping hair gel tips with you I feel like I should be asking for your manicurists phone number, and I swore I would never get a manicure. Don't be offended Chris, I think you're a decent guy, but I must admit I am getting tired of watching you pine for the scraps from Kurt Noble's table. Haven't you sat in his shadow long enough. Maybe if you got out from under his shadow you wouldn't have to use tan in a can, and you could get some real sun on your skin. I would just love to see you break free of being second fiddle, but the truth is you know you're not good enough. You my friend are no Kurt Noble. Wake up smell the coffee, give your little boyfriend Kurt a kiss goodbye, cut him loose, sleep with his wife, cut her loose and be free little birdie. Just please, whatever you do, do it quickly because if I hear the name Kurt Noble drop out of your mouth one more time I'm pretty sure I will puke. Be your own man, be Chris Hart, Metroman. Whenever you have a hair emergency he will be there shooting hair gel from his eyes. Just get rid of this Noble obsession, it does not serve you well.
So to bring this all to a wonderful crescendo, whether your name is Mouthy, Humperdink, Jeff Jr, or Metroman, you will all fall to King Billy the Great. I will lead my pathetic army and defeat all of you losers singlehandedly. I will do this all with my new found confidence. At the end of the night you all can remember the immortal words of the great Homer Simpson, 'Kids, you tried your best and you failed miserably. The lesson is, never try.' You all will learn that lesson well as the fans at Rasselmania all shout out in unison Long Live The King.[/b]
