- Messages
- 354
- Points
- 63
It's not even like a good positive. It's a weird, bland positivity.
Like you're a grandfather that molested me when I was four and now you're saying good job at graduating high school. Like, I don't wanna hear that from you, papa. Do you know what I mean, Rex? You're the molesting grandfather of EAW. And one other quick gripe before I trudge along with you. The "this elitist" thing. It's so... it's like saying "this writer has opinions." Again, a very benign thing, but something that's quite annoying. Not saying don't do it. By all means, do you boo-boo. Do it well. Even though well in your case is just... Rex. Which is... y'know... alright. Anyways....Yeah, we had a little logistic error. What can you say? Great minds think alike? And the greater mind thinks about it just 6 minutes sooner? See, if that is not telling of what our very short relationship is, I just don't know what is. Sure, you might've had a nice, meticulous little vignette. You said what you needed to say and you said it like the turkey at thanksgiving with no seasoning that sticks to the side of your tongue.
...that's just classic Rexy. I'm not here to judge. Just win...
You said it great, you said with veracity or some word like that that would make you seem formidable. You said it with length, with poise... you're like EAW's 18 year old gymnast! A grandfather molester young gymnast boy is Rex! Sorry... a little much... I'll pull back a little. You said it all. You proved you're stature. but.... there I was. Being classic me. Apparently the me from six or seven years ago, which I will go into after... just waiting in the cut, as I do. And bang boom, I undercut you by just that much. Now listen, there's no winner in first man to hit the airwaves. Usually. But I'm me, after all, and when I reach the audience first I leave that mark in their head. And again... that means absolutely nothing, Rex. We both know this. I am just a master at pulling dicks and making it seem like I might have an advantage in the eyes of my opponent. I'm sure your a head strong young buck. I'm sure that none of these tactics will get to you. I'm sure you've come across others with much more malicious and potent mental calisthenics. But. There's always an if. And if there's a chance your a weak vanilla midget who hides behind long-form talks with no substance only to mask your disability of shielding yourself from a wavelength wielder, wiley 'ol vet that has planned 20 steps ahead of you in every step you make.... then there's a chance I can intercept into you, isn't there?
But that's surely not the case... I never plan 20 steps ahead. It's probably around 1, 5 steps top.
Really, though, the weird positive reinforcement of opponent I don't like. Cut it out. Stop telling me to the best LC I can be. I'll be the worst LC if I want to goddamnit. You just worry about what face to make after the three second stare you have while you're looking at the top of American Airlines Arena -- right here in Miami, Florida! -- Alright? Now, listen. There's no "Lethal Consequences of seven years ago." You'll never see that Lethal Consequences unless you go into the archives. By all means, I have no qualm if you do. But, let me warn you, if you do try to do that and, say, you want to study my moves... it won't be of any help to you, Rex. This isn't the past. There's no old LC. There's no this version, that version of LC. What you're getting in front of you is 2018, once in a blue moon, man with the deed in his business partner's hand Lethal -- wait for it -- Consequences. You've never seen it. I've never seen it. No one has. And no one will see this same form because it'll be different the next day. And the day after that. There's no mold for what I do or what I've done, and I don't fit the mold I'm in, ever. I don't fit the mold of using a power that was bestowed unto me for any malicious reason. I'm not here to fuck other people over. I'm here to look out for my own ass and for the chosen few I deem worthy enough of being by my side.
You, Rex, haven't gotten that honor.
Not that you need it, nor want it. You're fine on your on. You'll probably beat Chris. You'll probably be a champion... this weird grandfather molest-y praise isn't that fun, is it? But at the end of the day, unless you do do that... I have no care for you at all unless your name is across from mine on a card. Unfortunately for you, that is the case this week. Do I care if you beat Chris? Like I said, man... I'm a man that has some stake in this place. I got some money that rides the wave of the candlesticks and when they go down, so do some of my shoe collections. It's not my place to say if you win nobody will watch Voltage because you bring nothing more than a well-deserved nap for hard working folks that spent their earned money coming to an EAW show. That's not my place to say. But I will say this, and when I say it, listen to the words, let them enter your ears and your brain. Decipher them into meaning. You and I both know English so it should be somewhat easy for you...
I'm going to face you this Sunday on Voltage. Chances are, I will beat you. The other chances are, I will not. Both are realities I'm willing to face. No problem. But, Rex McAllister... this will be a match that will happen. I will have now faced you in an EAW ring. That will go in my database. I will have your experience. You'll have mine. No sweat off my back. You're gonna need it because Rex, when you eventually meet Chris in-ring for the strap, you could win. You could lose. I don't care either way. Because I've faced Chris. I, completely on my own with no outside help, defeated Mr. Elite. And I've felt the warmth of that championship. And I like it. So, Rex, eyes here... if you do go on to defeat Chris Elite for that title, know that my apathy towards you will not be there anymore. You won't be just some passing man on a card. You will now be champion.
You'll be Rex McAllister, World Heavyweight Champion...
...and I'll be Lethal Consequences...
...take that however you want...
Just know I'm here.
Like you're a grandfather that molested me when I was four and now you're saying good job at graduating high school. Like, I don't wanna hear that from you, papa. Do you know what I mean, Rex? You're the molesting grandfather of EAW. And one other quick gripe before I trudge along with you. The "this elitist" thing. It's so... it's like saying "this writer has opinions." Again, a very benign thing, but something that's quite annoying. Not saying don't do it. By all means, do you boo-boo. Do it well. Even though well in your case is just... Rex. Which is... y'know... alright. Anyways....Yeah, we had a little logistic error. What can you say? Great minds think alike? And the greater mind thinks about it just 6 minutes sooner? See, if that is not telling of what our very short relationship is, I just don't know what is. Sure, you might've had a nice, meticulous little vignette. You said what you needed to say and you said it like the turkey at thanksgiving with no seasoning that sticks to the side of your tongue.
...that's just classic Rexy. I'm not here to judge. Just win...
You said it great, you said with veracity or some word like that that would make you seem formidable. You said it with length, with poise... you're like EAW's 18 year old gymnast! A grandfather molester young gymnast boy is Rex! Sorry... a little much... I'll pull back a little. You said it all. You proved you're stature. but.... there I was. Being classic me. Apparently the me from six or seven years ago, which I will go into after... just waiting in the cut, as I do. And bang boom, I undercut you by just that much. Now listen, there's no winner in first man to hit the airwaves. Usually. But I'm me, after all, and when I reach the audience first I leave that mark in their head. And again... that means absolutely nothing, Rex. We both know this. I am just a master at pulling dicks and making it seem like I might have an advantage in the eyes of my opponent. I'm sure your a head strong young buck. I'm sure that none of these tactics will get to you. I'm sure you've come across others with much more malicious and potent mental calisthenics. But. There's always an if. And if there's a chance your a weak vanilla midget who hides behind long-form talks with no substance only to mask your disability of shielding yourself from a wavelength wielder, wiley 'ol vet that has planned 20 steps ahead of you in every step you make.... then there's a chance I can intercept into you, isn't there?
But that's surely not the case... I never plan 20 steps ahead. It's probably around 1, 5 steps top.
Really, though, the weird positive reinforcement of opponent I don't like. Cut it out. Stop telling me to the best LC I can be. I'll be the worst LC if I want to goddamnit. You just worry about what face to make after the three second stare you have while you're looking at the top of American Airlines Arena -- right here in Miami, Florida! -- Alright? Now, listen. There's no "Lethal Consequences of seven years ago." You'll never see that Lethal Consequences unless you go into the archives. By all means, I have no qualm if you do. But, let me warn you, if you do try to do that and, say, you want to study my moves... it won't be of any help to you, Rex. This isn't the past. There's no old LC. There's no this version, that version of LC. What you're getting in front of you is 2018, once in a blue moon, man with the deed in his business partner's hand Lethal -- wait for it -- Consequences. You've never seen it. I've never seen it. No one has. And no one will see this same form because it'll be different the next day. And the day after that. There's no mold for what I do or what I've done, and I don't fit the mold I'm in, ever. I don't fit the mold of using a power that was bestowed unto me for any malicious reason. I'm not here to fuck other people over. I'm here to look out for my own ass and for the chosen few I deem worthy enough of being by my side.
You, Rex, haven't gotten that honor.
Not that you need it, nor want it. You're fine on your on. You'll probably beat Chris. You'll probably be a champion... this weird grandfather molest-y praise isn't that fun, is it? But at the end of the day, unless you do do that... I have no care for you at all unless your name is across from mine on a card. Unfortunately for you, that is the case this week. Do I care if you beat Chris? Like I said, man... I'm a man that has some stake in this place. I got some money that rides the wave of the candlesticks and when they go down, so do some of my shoe collections. It's not my place to say if you win nobody will watch Voltage because you bring nothing more than a well-deserved nap for hard working folks that spent their earned money coming to an EAW show. That's not my place to say. But I will say this, and when I say it, listen to the words, let them enter your ears and your brain. Decipher them into meaning. You and I both know English so it should be somewhat easy for you...
I'm going to face you this Sunday on Voltage. Chances are, I will beat you. The other chances are, I will not. Both are realities I'm willing to face. No problem. But, Rex McAllister... this will be a match that will happen. I will have now faced you in an EAW ring. That will go in my database. I will have your experience. You'll have mine. No sweat off my back. You're gonna need it because Rex, when you eventually meet Chris in-ring for the strap, you could win. You could lose. I don't care either way. Because I've faced Chris. I, completely on my own with no outside help, defeated Mr. Elite. And I've felt the warmth of that championship. And I like it. So, Rex, eyes here... if you do go on to defeat Chris Elite for that title, know that my apathy towards you will not be there anymore. You won't be just some passing man on a card. You will now be champion.
You'll be Rex McAllister, World Heavyweight Champion...
...and I'll be Lethal Consequences...
...take that however you want...
Just know I'm here.
