The Ballad of Little Dick Devereaux
Sept 22, 2016 3:21:03 GMT
Ernie Parker, Dick Devereaux, and 1 more like this
Post by Aidan Carlisle on Sept 22, 2016 3:21:03 GMT
Pathetic, shriveled, mewling little thing,
Our date is for next week in September.
This violent tryst will end in the ring,
A special eve you'll always remember.
Hopes will be dashed like waves upon the shore.
Not good enough you were, so shall you be.
Your illusions shattered, believ'd no more.
Neither the first nor last to fall to me.
But do pretend you believe your own lies.
Your destiny is as ever to fail.
The truth will forever show in your eyes.
Will your tale hold when it is me they hail?
Please tell me how I'll lie broken at your feet,
It only serves to make my victory sweet.
Our date is for next week in September.
This violent tryst will end in the ring,
A special eve you'll always remember.
Hopes will be dashed like waves upon the shore.
Not good enough you were, so shall you be.
Your illusions shattered, believ'd no more.
Neither the first nor last to fall to me.
But do pretend you believe your own lies.
Your destiny is as ever to fail.
The truth will forever show in your eyes.
Will your tale hold when it is me they hail?
Please tell me how I'll lie broken at your feet,
It only serves to make my victory sweet.
Let's talk about experience; a little thing I have twice as much of as Dick, and I'm not just talking about with women. Little Dick claims to have five years in the ring. Good for him. I'm coming up on ten before long. Anyone who tries to tell you that experience doesn't count for anything is full of shit.
I'm not going to sit here and tell you that it's the end all, be all, because it's not. It is, however, a serious advantage. Add that to the fact that I can last longer and push myself farther than he can, as well as recover faster, and right there is all the evidence you need that I'm the one walking away from this match victorious.
However, I've got even more advantages over Little Dick, like my speed. He wants to discount that quickness and talk about how all he has to do is wait for me to wear myself out. Except I can outlast him by a mile, and not just in bed, neither of which are in question. He wants to try to catch me when I come out of the air? Go ahead, but along with that agility comes the ability to counter and reverse getting caught. It's just a little something I've learned through those extra years of experience I have.
Let's look at a little something else while we're at it. I had myself a nice little chuckle when I looked at what he has listed for his record there on his personal site. Three whole matches, two of which he lost. 1-2-0. A 33% success rate? Real intimidating isn't it? I'm shaking in my knee high leather boots over here.
Now let's have a little gander at my numbers, shall we? I'm 57-10-3 since returning to the United States. In my other place of employment I have a fifteen—soon to be sixteen—match winning streak in singles competition. I've gone unpinned and unsubmitted for seven straight months with seven successful title defenses.
I currently have two championships to my name and no one but me will ever be able to say that they were the first EOW Heavyweight Champion. On my first night here I walked away with Livewire's top prize while Little Dick got himself eliminated by Declan Black in the second phase. Surprise surprise, yet again he couldn't last to the end.
Dick Devereaux is nothing but a bunch of empty words. He hopes that no one will point out they aren't true as long as he shouts them loud enough, like he's some bad-haired orange fuck running for President. There are a number of ways in which I'm superior to Little Dick, far too many for me to start listing off. The biggest one, though, is that when I open my mouth, I back up my words.
I said I would walk out the EOW Heavyweight Champion, and I did. I'm saying I'll put Dick down, and I will. All he does is spew a bunch of bullshit.
Compared to him I'm a regular Shakespeare.
Sad Little Dick stomps, he whines, and he cries.
He screams and shouts and swings his little hands.
'Cause he knows no matter how hard he tries,
He'll be on his back when the three count lands.
Never has a thought passed through that bald head,
That didn't bring him to his knees with pain.
As weak in the ring as he is in bed,
Mommy should have let him be a jizz stain.
He's a dick but I am The Alpha Bitch.
Nothing more than a whiny little shit,
While I stand there and laugh into a stitch,
He will cry like a child throwing a fit.
Never was there a tale of more earn-ed woe
Than this Ballad of Little Dick Devereaux.
