Post by Aidan Carlisle on Sept 24, 2016 4:12:48 GMT
I probably shouldn't be at all surprised that Little Dick Devereaux spends time counting inches, should I? Nor should I be surprised that he's desperately grasping at straws. He knows he's got nothing of real importance, nothing that's going to give him an edge over me, so he puffed himself up to half-mast on his own personal Viagra and he's jerking it for all he's got.
He's taller than me.
Good fucking god hold the presses, I never knew! This changes everything. There's no way I'm ever going to be able to handle him now. It's not as though I've spent almost ten years wrestling against guys that are taller than me! It's not as though I didn't literally beat someone fifteen inches taller than me just last night, for the second time.
Oh wait, I did.
I guess being taller than me doesn't actually mean jack shit. I'd repeat everything I just said and apply it to weight as well, but I feel like everyone gets the picture. Everyone except Dick, most likely.
Looks like he couldn't be bothered to do his homework either. Am I supposed to be scared because he's violent? Where the hell does he think the Queen of Extreme nickname comes from? Hardcore matches were my forte for years and are still near and dear to my heart. I'm hardly afraid of what he can do, because I know that I can withstand it no matter what, the numbers tell me so. When he's been through a Nine Circles of Hell match we'll talk.
But let's not forget, we're not having a hardcore match. We're having ourselves a nice standard singles match. Could there be blood? Certainly. And if there is? Guess the fuck what? Aidan Carlisle is going to beat Dick Devereaux into the canvas while covered in blood like some demon from hell as the crowd screams for more.
Been there, done that; I can, I have, I will again; and all those other little cliché catchphrases that apply.
That Little Dick thinks he knows anything at all about my past is laughable. It's not worth the time to lay out all the ways in which he is entirely fucking clueless, all I really have to do is just let him open his mouth. Dick proves everything I say about him true by merely existing.
He's what... Generic Wrestler #503234 to call himself The Devil? Please honey, the Devil isn't some half out of shape, squinty-eyed, bald fuck who thinks repeating the same two bad words over and over again makes him a big deal. I've fucked the Devil, had him on his knees. He still slides up in my DMs begging me to come back.
You're just an asshole with a superiority complex and a bunch of unwarranted confidence. Which is just fine in my book. It will make it that much more enjoyable to take you down. I'm going to savor the look in your eyes when I pin you to the mat for the three count and you realize just how full of shit you actually are. Maybe I'll hang around the ring long enough to watch you tuck your tail between your legs and crawl up the ramp. Then again, maybe I'll just take my championship, you know, the one you'll never have a hope of actually holding, and head out to celebrate another victory.
The writing is on the wall for this match. Everyone sees it. Even Dick Devereaux, whether or not he wants to admit it.
I'm faster than Dick. I'm more agile than Dick. I can go longer and endure more and be ready for round two sooner than Little Dickie. I have almost twice as much experience in the ring as Devereaux, which has given me the time to learn to counter the best attempts at stalling my acrobatics. I've made a career of beating opponents who are taller than me and outweigh me. In fact, little ol' me can hit just as hard as Little Dick too.
Devereaux may be more technically skilled than I am, but that's not going to do him a lot of good if he can't catch me. I've got just enough of an edge in patience over Dick that I can control the pace of the match. I can wear him down until he's running on fumes and doesn't have anything left for submission maneuvers before I strike. Death from above.
Mark my words; This match is mine.
He's taller than me.
Good fucking god hold the presses, I never knew! This changes everything. There's no way I'm ever going to be able to handle him now. It's not as though I've spent almost ten years wrestling against guys that are taller than me! It's not as though I didn't literally beat someone fifteen inches taller than me just last night, for the second time.
Oh wait, I did.
I guess being taller than me doesn't actually mean jack shit. I'd repeat everything I just said and apply it to weight as well, but I feel like everyone gets the picture. Everyone except Dick, most likely.
Looks like he couldn't be bothered to do his homework either. Am I supposed to be scared because he's violent? Where the hell does he think the Queen of Extreme nickname comes from? Hardcore matches were my forte for years and are still near and dear to my heart. I'm hardly afraid of what he can do, because I know that I can withstand it no matter what, the numbers tell me so. When he's been through a Nine Circles of Hell match we'll talk.
But let's not forget, we're not having a hardcore match. We're having ourselves a nice standard singles match. Could there be blood? Certainly. And if there is? Guess the fuck what? Aidan Carlisle is going to beat Dick Devereaux into the canvas while covered in blood like some demon from hell as the crowd screams for more.
Been there, done that; I can, I have, I will again; and all those other little cliché catchphrases that apply.
That Little Dick thinks he knows anything at all about my past is laughable. It's not worth the time to lay out all the ways in which he is entirely fucking clueless, all I really have to do is just let him open his mouth. Dick proves everything I say about him true by merely existing.
He's what... Generic Wrestler #503234 to call himself The Devil? Please honey, the Devil isn't some half out of shape, squinty-eyed, bald fuck who thinks repeating the same two bad words over and over again makes him a big deal. I've fucked the Devil, had him on his knees. He still slides up in my DMs begging me to come back.
You're just an asshole with a superiority complex and a bunch of unwarranted confidence. Which is just fine in my book. It will make it that much more enjoyable to take you down. I'm going to savor the look in your eyes when I pin you to the mat for the three count and you realize just how full of shit you actually are. Maybe I'll hang around the ring long enough to watch you tuck your tail between your legs and crawl up the ramp. Then again, maybe I'll just take my championship, you know, the one you'll never have a hope of actually holding, and head out to celebrate another victory.
The writing is on the wall for this match. Everyone sees it. Even Dick Devereaux, whether or not he wants to admit it.
I'm faster than Dick. I'm more agile than Dick. I can go longer and endure more and be ready for round two sooner than Little Dickie. I have almost twice as much experience in the ring as Devereaux, which has given me the time to learn to counter the best attempts at stalling my acrobatics. I've made a career of beating opponents who are taller than me and outweigh me. In fact, little ol' me can hit just as hard as Little Dick too.
Devereaux may be more technically skilled than I am, but that's not going to do him a lot of good if he can't catch me. I've got just enough of an edge in patience over Dick that I can control the pace of the match. I can wear him down until he's running on fumes and doesn't have anything left for submission maneuvers before I strike. Death from above.
Mark my words; This match is mine.
