Post by Technical Perfection on Apr 10, 2018 17:04:47 GMT -5
The faces change, the song remains the same.
Spike Kane. Spike, I hold you no ill will. Spike, you’re a legend in this business and this federation is your baby. I have nothing but respect for you and what you have achieved in this industry. But last week… well everything’s kinda FUCKED UP now ain't it? You should have just told that snivelling mongrel to pack his bags and never enter a Combat Wrestling event again rather than take that match. You let your company get half taken over by a man who will drive everything to ruin over his own ego. I told everyone, EVERYONE that if that bland, generic rich bad guy wrestler gets to the top of your federation’s shows that people would leave in droves. I told EVERYONE that people would tune out and turn off and find something better to do with their lives. And you let him walk into a position of power, into a place where he can put his face on the top of YOUR shows. Bad vibes, chur.
FUCK. THAT. NOISE.
But I ain’t gonna stay mad at you, Spike. I’m not in the, what did Frye call it, “Lynch mob,” business. You got enough fun dealing with Kold this week, last thing you need is dealing with me being pissed off atcha. Fulway I ain’t hung around enough to get a handle on. Frye promised to stand with you. By my reckoning that gives you enough to hold onto a decent match. I got my own agenda to fill. Your business partner probably has an ace up his sleeve because he’s not enough of a dumbass to book Kold in a massacre as everyone comes stand with you. So some dumb fuck is gonna stooge themselves off in the match and that dumb fuck ain’t gonna be me. If it’s someone in the ring, I got this. If it’s someone in the back, I got this. If it’s someone new… then they get the honour of having the shortest Combat Wrestling career ever. I got this. But I know you and Kold got beef and I wouldn’t dream of standing in the way of two guys with a score to settle. Kold ain’t on anyone’s team but Team Kold.
So let’s talk about my team this week. Frye, I know. Dude, Imma tell you straight. You caught me off guard last week. It takes a hell of a man to hit a Lariat on the inheritor of the best Lariat in the business. So Imma give you props. Well done, chur. Go enjoy your title. Gonna be fun holding onto it when you got a whole roster gunning for you. Do it proud. Make it the most exciting title in professional wrestling. Be true, rep for Knox City, rep for the TX, make the most of that belt. If you give me another shot I’ll lock horns with the Longhorn one more time. Put on another clinic for the fans to watch. One with no bullshit and drama surrounding it. But.
But if you deliver that belt on a sliver platter to our new co-owner Imma break you. Imma make the last thing you feel through the pain and the agony I inflict be REGRET. Don’t be the dog in this match. You weren’t born to sit up and beg at some flash fuck’s beck and call.
Fulway. There’s a guy I don’t know. You got trust to earn. You look like a hell of a talent, I’ve been watching tapes and shit to get me all genned on what you’re about. I like what you bring to the table. But in this new climate I don’t trust you. Not yet. Let’s see what you got. If you want just to showcase, I won’t be mad atcha if you stick around and make this a fun two on two against Spike and Frye. That’s a match that I might have booked myself, chur. But you could make a statement by doing jack and his twin brother shit, because if you make yourself a spectator in this match I’m 99% that Frye is going to let Kold and Spike duel it out. But.
But if it turns out you’re under instructions from Milo Yourenotagoodwrestlerpoulis to do something sneaky, you are going to regret your life choices real soon, real bad. There is a special place in the underworld for traitors and liars and if you present yourself as one of those then I am going to send you there, myself. You break your word as one of wrestling’s good guys, you break the wrestler’s code. You break the wrestler’s code? I break your skull.
Killian Kold. You want any excuse to get your hands on Spike Kane. There’s something about that I dig, chur. You may be a short tempered psychopath. You may be totally delusional at times. But what you are setting up is a good old fashioned blood feud and that’s what this industry is built upon. Not this ownership bullshit. Just a guy who hates another guy and wants to rip him to shreds. Now if I was some pissant litle scum stain with a grudge to bear on Spike Kane, what I would have done is just put the pair of you up against each other, hardcore style. Still, that’s for another day because you’d have to have no sense at all not to book that shit in the future. That’s money. But.
But. And let me triple underline this shit, BUT. If you’re in this for anything other than the violence against your mentor then I am gonna extract every little ounce of corporate sell out in your body in your blood. I am gonna face up against the monster, I am gonna stare you in the fucking face and tell you to go fuck yourself. I get that your plans and those of Spike’s unfortunate share option shithead collide this week but you are a monster, Kold. Monsters ain’t meant to be tamed, Kold. Monsters are meant to be battled. And I ain’t scared of that.
~~~
*Click*
Answerphone: Yo, this is Va’aiga. I’m not in right now so leave a message.
Taane: C’mon, pick up the phone, dad.
A sleepy sounding Va’aiga answers his phone, his voice sounding strained.
Va’aiga: Taane. What gives, man? You forget your timezones ahead again?
Taane: It’s midday. That’s, like, only 9 Pacific.
Va’aiga: Ah, shit. Late night. Got these parties I need to show face at.
Taane: Hah. I ain’t lecturing my old man about staying out late.
Va’aiga: Hollywood, son. It drains you.
Taane: How did the premiere go?
Va’aiga: Seriously? Them acting folks can out away the drink like noone’s looking. Yet they got the eyes of the world on them. I had to stay out and hold the sober fort down. Now what you calling for?
Taane: Firstly I needed to check that the film was well received.
Va’aiga: Folks are going crazy for science fiction films. Seriously, I heard a hundred nerds freaking the fuck out at how good it was…
Taane: There’s a but coming.
Va’aiga: But I heard a hundred more picking faults out of how they changed the book. Like they don’t know a film gets structured differently. What’s secondly?
Taane: Secondly, I lost my title.
Va’aiga: Time’ll come to pick up another one. Some you win, some you lose. Pick yourself up. Vague motivational bullshit, you know the drill.
Taane: And thirdly, the company just got a new co-owner.
Va’aiga: Well… that’s shit. Don’t tell me. The rich bitch who cussed out you for being marketable. Does that dumb fuck know anything about business, seeing as that’s his gimmick.
Taane: The one and the same.
Va’aiga: Don’t be a patsy. He’ll try to manipulate you into plots and schemes. Dudes like that always find a way to make the show all about themselves through some shitty plot even when they ain’t good enough to be all over the television.
Taane: Network. We’re an online service,
Va’aiga: Whatever. Statement stands.
Taane: Anyway, I’m in a black fucking mood over all of this. I ain’t even felt like partying all week. Big Chris has been smart by staying out of my way.
Va’aiga: Not a common thing Chris being smart. But probably sensible. So you’re steaming hot over this situation?
Taane: Fuck yeah.
Va’aiga: Good.
Taane: Good?
Va’aiga: Use it. You’re in the one job that going in ready to kill some poor motherfucker is a positive help. What you booked in this week.
Taane: Four on one handicap. Against Spike Kane.
Va’aiga: You wanna kill Spike?
Taane: Nah. I wanna kill the other guy. Along with anyone dumb enough to stand by him.
Va’aiga: What you need to do is make a mess. Break shit. And if that shit is people, their bad for being in your way. Get to stomping. You know what happened when I got in a black mood?
Taane: You… won titles.
Va’aiga: I won WORLD titles. Just find the right target and let the fuck loose. Let motherfuckers know that if they fuck with you they are gonna get hurt. That’s what I did. And son?
Taane: Yeah.
Va’aiga: Before you bust out THE move, make damn sure the person deserves it.
Taane: THE move?
Va’aiga: You KNOW the move I mean.
Taane: Ah shit. You giving me permission? You said not to use it.
Va’aiga: I said, if I remember right, "Don't go busting it out on any random motherfucker." I think motherfuckers just made themselves a lot less random.
Taane: Point.
Va’aiga: Now I need to wake up, son. Go find a camera and get screaming and swearing at it. It’ll make you feel better,
~~~
See with my life being spent in the business, I gots a sense of perspective on this shit happening because I’ve seen it happen time and time AND TIME AGAIN. I know all the steps that his type takes, I know the order, I know exactly what happens. And step one didn’t take long. Find targets, book them in ridiculous stipulation matches, make an example out of them. It’s happened before, it’s happening again this week.
The faces change, the song remains the same.
People, good people that staff this locker room are gonna get targeted next. If you don’t play the game his way, if you don’t work to his script you get a big ass bullseye on your back and you get the odds stacked against you every damn week. If you don’t go along with his plots, his schemes then you are done, son. You get dropped down the card like a bad habit. It ain’t right, it ain’t fair, it ain’t nothing to do with the tradition of the fair fight, the good contest which is why each and every fan tunes in week after week. It’s just his rules enforced to his every whim.
Take poor Dawn Halliwell. What did she do to deserve a match where she should, by all rights, be getting royally screwed? FUCK ALL. Dawn’s a great wrestler, a hell of a talent but because she ain’t getting the short end of HIS stick, she’s getting the short end of THE stick, dig? Because what did that entitled BIYATCH do to earn a title shot with such favourable circumstances? Lemme fill you in, my iwi. Laid back and let our new co-owner’s tiny prick rattle around her bucket of a tuahine, promising every time to bust out her rabbit later to finish off with. Life’s good when you’re fucking the one with the power. It just sucks for anyone who ain’t.
The faces change, the song remains the same.
Lemme tell y’all what the next move is. This week is a test. A chance to prove who’s willing to play stooge for the power. Because when you get a whiff of power you can surround yourself with stooges and run rampant on the rest of the federation ALL. NIGHT. LONG. You can raise your guys up the card and you can flex your power to make sure it’s your guys holding the belts. You can bury any fucker who ain’t singing from the same hymn sheet deep in the depths of the undercard, never give them shots except when you want to prove a point and have your guys win matches that you personally tailor to give them a disadvantage.
So you build yourself a stable. You let those who want to prostitute themselves to the power gravitate to you. Hell, there are enough guys out there with no class, no morals who will jump on that in a heart beat. Call it, “The Corporation,” “The Business,” or something as generic. Call it, “The King’s Court,” because you FUCKING LOVE royalty metaphors, don’t you? Run roughshod over the promotion. Get every single member of your stable a belt. If there ain’t enough belts to go round, create them. Those who ain’t playing ball won’t get them anyways, you can make sure of that.
The faces change, the song remains the same.
I’ve seen this play out. I’ve seen this before. I KNOW my pro wrestling. Like I said before, this guy knows business, just not MY business. I know how this all goes down because I am prepped for this kind of shit. See, my daddy didn’t just teach me how to wrestle. He taught me the ins and outs of this sport and this is part of the sport that I wish was a big fat out. It ain’t so, it’s happened before and BY RANGI AND PAPA IT WILL HAPPEN AGAIN. But.
But.
But.
BUT IT WILL NOT HAPPEN ON MY WATCH.
Mr So Called 50% Owner? You want me to fight your battles? No. You want me to do your dirty work? NUH-UH. Not gonna happen. Instead, I am going to make it my personal mission to make your life a living hell. You’re fucking with Spike Kane? You’re fucking with me, with Kyle Frye, with Ryan Fulway, with Dawn Halliwell? Newsflash. I know your plans. I know your plans because they’re a tired retread of a story that has already been written elsewhere. Only this time round you got me to deal with. You try to fuck with me again… I am going to go to my locker, I am going to take my Taiaha and I am going to RAM IT SO FAR UP YOUR ASS THAT I KNOCK YOUR FUCKING TEETH OUT FROM THE INSIDE! YOU DONE PISSED ME OFF! YOU DONE TOOK IT PAST WRESTLING! Sure, I was a little steamed when you called out my skin colour and my lavalava but that’s just wrestling banter. This, this has got me RILED.
Keep trying this shit round here and it won’t be Spike Kane you have to answer to because there will be a FUCKING QUEUE OF BADASS MOTHERFUCKERS WHO HATE YOUR GUTS. You don’t think we got the stones to do it? Fire us. That just means you ain’t fining us when we come out the woodwork and WRECK YO’ SHIT. You got no friends, NO FRIENDS in the locker room. Aside from your pet cum dumpster, you got no one to lean on.
So come this week, Imma gonna walk out to that ring. Imma stare Spike Kane in the eyes and then I am gonna wreck your plans with some crazy shit you didn’t figure into them. Imma quote a wrestler who you dream of being. “I have so many plans they are going to run out of letters and start using the Cyrillic and Greek alphabets.” You got this all figured out because your dimestore Donnail Swigette, cheap cover version of a song that sucked in the first place ass has seen it done before. The sooner it gets to the final stage, the one you will be doing everything in your power to avoid, Spike Kane beating the ever loving FUCK out of you and shitcanning your miserable ass, THE BETTER. Meantime I got deep reserves of anti bullshit evil owner shit I can draw on. The faces change? Your face is gonna get changed into one that is MUCH FUCKING FLATTER THAN IT WAS BEFORE. The song remains the same? Imma play a few new notes ON YOUR FUCKING SKULL. You could have kept me out of all of this shit but you had to go and involve me day one. Bad move, shitstain. Because class is back in session one more time this Friday and I get to teach you Life Skills 101.
DO NOT FUCK WITH THIS 'NESIAN.
Taane leans towards the lens of the camera he used to film his promo. Extending his pinkie finger and thumb into the Shaka sign, he glares at the lens. If he was in a more pleasant mood he may well have been content to throw it as a sign of racial pride. Instead he shows his tongue fully (a quite violent Maori insult) and slowly draws his thumb across his throat in a threatening motion.
Cut to black.
Spike Kane. Spike, I hold you no ill will. Spike, you’re a legend in this business and this federation is your baby. I have nothing but respect for you and what you have achieved in this industry. But last week… well everything’s kinda FUCKED UP now ain't it? You should have just told that snivelling mongrel to pack his bags and never enter a Combat Wrestling event again rather than take that match. You let your company get half taken over by a man who will drive everything to ruin over his own ego. I told everyone, EVERYONE that if that bland, generic rich bad guy wrestler gets to the top of your federation’s shows that people would leave in droves. I told EVERYONE that people would tune out and turn off and find something better to do with their lives. And you let him walk into a position of power, into a place where he can put his face on the top of YOUR shows. Bad vibes, chur.
FUCK. THAT. NOISE.
But I ain’t gonna stay mad at you, Spike. I’m not in the, what did Frye call it, “Lynch mob,” business. You got enough fun dealing with Kold this week, last thing you need is dealing with me being pissed off atcha. Fulway I ain’t hung around enough to get a handle on. Frye promised to stand with you. By my reckoning that gives you enough to hold onto a decent match. I got my own agenda to fill. Your business partner probably has an ace up his sleeve because he’s not enough of a dumbass to book Kold in a massacre as everyone comes stand with you. So some dumb fuck is gonna stooge themselves off in the match and that dumb fuck ain’t gonna be me. If it’s someone in the ring, I got this. If it’s someone in the back, I got this. If it’s someone new… then they get the honour of having the shortest Combat Wrestling career ever. I got this. But I know you and Kold got beef and I wouldn’t dream of standing in the way of two guys with a score to settle. Kold ain’t on anyone’s team but Team Kold.
So let’s talk about my team this week. Frye, I know. Dude, Imma tell you straight. You caught me off guard last week. It takes a hell of a man to hit a Lariat on the inheritor of the best Lariat in the business. So Imma give you props. Well done, chur. Go enjoy your title. Gonna be fun holding onto it when you got a whole roster gunning for you. Do it proud. Make it the most exciting title in professional wrestling. Be true, rep for Knox City, rep for the TX, make the most of that belt. If you give me another shot I’ll lock horns with the Longhorn one more time. Put on another clinic for the fans to watch. One with no bullshit and drama surrounding it. But.
But if you deliver that belt on a sliver platter to our new co-owner Imma break you. Imma make the last thing you feel through the pain and the agony I inflict be REGRET. Don’t be the dog in this match. You weren’t born to sit up and beg at some flash fuck’s beck and call.
Fulway. There’s a guy I don’t know. You got trust to earn. You look like a hell of a talent, I’ve been watching tapes and shit to get me all genned on what you’re about. I like what you bring to the table. But in this new climate I don’t trust you. Not yet. Let’s see what you got. If you want just to showcase, I won’t be mad atcha if you stick around and make this a fun two on two against Spike and Frye. That’s a match that I might have booked myself, chur. But you could make a statement by doing jack and his twin brother shit, because if you make yourself a spectator in this match I’m 99% that Frye is going to let Kold and Spike duel it out. But.
But if it turns out you’re under instructions from Milo Yourenotagoodwrestlerpoulis to do something sneaky, you are going to regret your life choices real soon, real bad. There is a special place in the underworld for traitors and liars and if you present yourself as one of those then I am going to send you there, myself. You break your word as one of wrestling’s good guys, you break the wrestler’s code. You break the wrestler’s code? I break your skull.
Killian Kold. You want any excuse to get your hands on Spike Kane. There’s something about that I dig, chur. You may be a short tempered psychopath. You may be totally delusional at times. But what you are setting up is a good old fashioned blood feud and that’s what this industry is built upon. Not this ownership bullshit. Just a guy who hates another guy and wants to rip him to shreds. Now if I was some pissant litle scum stain with a grudge to bear on Spike Kane, what I would have done is just put the pair of you up against each other, hardcore style. Still, that’s for another day because you’d have to have no sense at all not to book that shit in the future. That’s money. But.
But. And let me triple underline this shit, BUT. If you’re in this for anything other than the violence against your mentor then I am gonna extract every little ounce of corporate sell out in your body in your blood. I am gonna face up against the monster, I am gonna stare you in the fucking face and tell you to go fuck yourself. I get that your plans and those of Spike’s unfortunate share option shithead collide this week but you are a monster, Kold. Monsters ain’t meant to be tamed, Kold. Monsters are meant to be battled. And I ain’t scared of that.
~~~
*Click*
Answerphone: Yo, this is Va’aiga. I’m not in right now so leave a message.
Taane: C’mon, pick up the phone, dad.
A sleepy sounding Va’aiga answers his phone, his voice sounding strained.
Va’aiga: Taane. What gives, man? You forget your timezones ahead again?
Taane: It’s midday. That’s, like, only 9 Pacific.
Va’aiga: Ah, shit. Late night. Got these parties I need to show face at.
Taane: Hah. I ain’t lecturing my old man about staying out late.
Va’aiga: Hollywood, son. It drains you.
Taane: How did the premiere go?
Va’aiga: Seriously? Them acting folks can out away the drink like noone’s looking. Yet they got the eyes of the world on them. I had to stay out and hold the sober fort down. Now what you calling for?
Taane: Firstly I needed to check that the film was well received.
Va’aiga: Folks are going crazy for science fiction films. Seriously, I heard a hundred nerds freaking the fuck out at how good it was…
Taane: There’s a but coming.
Va’aiga: But I heard a hundred more picking faults out of how they changed the book. Like they don’t know a film gets structured differently. What’s secondly?
Taane: Secondly, I lost my title.
Va’aiga: Time’ll come to pick up another one. Some you win, some you lose. Pick yourself up. Vague motivational bullshit, you know the drill.
Taane: And thirdly, the company just got a new co-owner.
Va’aiga: Well… that’s shit. Don’t tell me. The rich bitch who cussed out you for being marketable. Does that dumb fuck know anything about business, seeing as that’s his gimmick.
Taane: The one and the same.
Va’aiga: Don’t be a patsy. He’ll try to manipulate you into plots and schemes. Dudes like that always find a way to make the show all about themselves through some shitty plot even when they ain’t good enough to be all over the television.
Taane: Network. We’re an online service,
Va’aiga: Whatever. Statement stands.
Taane: Anyway, I’m in a black fucking mood over all of this. I ain’t even felt like partying all week. Big Chris has been smart by staying out of my way.
Va’aiga: Not a common thing Chris being smart. But probably sensible. So you’re steaming hot over this situation?
Taane: Fuck yeah.
Va’aiga: Good.
Taane: Good?
Va’aiga: Use it. You’re in the one job that going in ready to kill some poor motherfucker is a positive help. What you booked in this week.
Taane: Four on one handicap. Against Spike Kane.
Va’aiga: You wanna kill Spike?
Taane: Nah. I wanna kill the other guy. Along with anyone dumb enough to stand by him.
Va’aiga: What you need to do is make a mess. Break shit. And if that shit is people, their bad for being in your way. Get to stomping. You know what happened when I got in a black mood?
Taane: You… won titles.
Va’aiga: I won WORLD titles. Just find the right target and let the fuck loose. Let motherfuckers know that if they fuck with you they are gonna get hurt. That’s what I did. And son?
Taane: Yeah.
Va’aiga: Before you bust out THE move, make damn sure the person deserves it.
Taane: THE move?
Va’aiga: You KNOW the move I mean.
Taane: Ah shit. You giving me permission? You said not to use it.
Va’aiga: I said, if I remember right, "Don't go busting it out on any random motherfucker." I think motherfuckers just made themselves a lot less random.
Taane: Point.
Va’aiga: Now I need to wake up, son. Go find a camera and get screaming and swearing at it. It’ll make you feel better,
~~~
See with my life being spent in the business, I gots a sense of perspective on this shit happening because I’ve seen it happen time and time AND TIME AGAIN. I know all the steps that his type takes, I know the order, I know exactly what happens. And step one didn’t take long. Find targets, book them in ridiculous stipulation matches, make an example out of them. It’s happened before, it’s happening again this week.
The faces change, the song remains the same.
People, good people that staff this locker room are gonna get targeted next. If you don’t play the game his way, if you don’t work to his script you get a big ass bullseye on your back and you get the odds stacked against you every damn week. If you don’t go along with his plots, his schemes then you are done, son. You get dropped down the card like a bad habit. It ain’t right, it ain’t fair, it ain’t nothing to do with the tradition of the fair fight, the good contest which is why each and every fan tunes in week after week. It’s just his rules enforced to his every whim.
Take poor Dawn Halliwell. What did she do to deserve a match where she should, by all rights, be getting royally screwed? FUCK ALL. Dawn’s a great wrestler, a hell of a talent but because she ain’t getting the short end of HIS stick, she’s getting the short end of THE stick, dig? Because what did that entitled BIYATCH do to earn a title shot with such favourable circumstances? Lemme fill you in, my iwi. Laid back and let our new co-owner’s tiny prick rattle around her bucket of a tuahine, promising every time to bust out her rabbit later to finish off with. Life’s good when you’re fucking the one with the power. It just sucks for anyone who ain’t.
The faces change, the song remains the same.
Lemme tell y’all what the next move is. This week is a test. A chance to prove who’s willing to play stooge for the power. Because when you get a whiff of power you can surround yourself with stooges and run rampant on the rest of the federation ALL. NIGHT. LONG. You can raise your guys up the card and you can flex your power to make sure it’s your guys holding the belts. You can bury any fucker who ain’t singing from the same hymn sheet deep in the depths of the undercard, never give them shots except when you want to prove a point and have your guys win matches that you personally tailor to give them a disadvantage.
So you build yourself a stable. You let those who want to prostitute themselves to the power gravitate to you. Hell, there are enough guys out there with no class, no morals who will jump on that in a heart beat. Call it, “The Corporation,” “The Business,” or something as generic. Call it, “The King’s Court,” because you FUCKING LOVE royalty metaphors, don’t you? Run roughshod over the promotion. Get every single member of your stable a belt. If there ain’t enough belts to go round, create them. Those who ain’t playing ball won’t get them anyways, you can make sure of that.
The faces change, the song remains the same.
I’ve seen this play out. I’ve seen this before. I KNOW my pro wrestling. Like I said before, this guy knows business, just not MY business. I know how this all goes down because I am prepped for this kind of shit. See, my daddy didn’t just teach me how to wrestle. He taught me the ins and outs of this sport and this is part of the sport that I wish was a big fat out. It ain’t so, it’s happened before and BY RANGI AND PAPA IT WILL HAPPEN AGAIN. But.
But.
But.
BUT IT WILL NOT HAPPEN ON MY WATCH.
Mr So Called 50% Owner? You want me to fight your battles? No. You want me to do your dirty work? NUH-UH. Not gonna happen. Instead, I am going to make it my personal mission to make your life a living hell. You’re fucking with Spike Kane? You’re fucking with me, with Kyle Frye, with Ryan Fulway, with Dawn Halliwell? Newsflash. I know your plans. I know your plans because they’re a tired retread of a story that has already been written elsewhere. Only this time round you got me to deal with. You try to fuck with me again… I am going to go to my locker, I am going to take my Taiaha and I am going to RAM IT SO FAR UP YOUR ASS THAT I KNOCK YOUR FUCKING TEETH OUT FROM THE INSIDE! YOU DONE PISSED ME OFF! YOU DONE TOOK IT PAST WRESTLING! Sure, I was a little steamed when you called out my skin colour and my lavalava but that’s just wrestling banter. This, this has got me RILED.
Keep trying this shit round here and it won’t be Spike Kane you have to answer to because there will be a FUCKING QUEUE OF BADASS MOTHERFUCKERS WHO HATE YOUR GUTS. You don’t think we got the stones to do it? Fire us. That just means you ain’t fining us when we come out the woodwork and WRECK YO’ SHIT. You got no friends, NO FRIENDS in the locker room. Aside from your pet cum dumpster, you got no one to lean on.
So come this week, Imma gonna walk out to that ring. Imma stare Spike Kane in the eyes and then I am gonna wreck your plans with some crazy shit you didn’t figure into them. Imma quote a wrestler who you dream of being. “I have so many plans they are going to run out of letters and start using the Cyrillic and Greek alphabets.” You got this all figured out because your dimestore Donnail Swigette, cheap cover version of a song that sucked in the first place ass has seen it done before. The sooner it gets to the final stage, the one you will be doing everything in your power to avoid, Spike Kane beating the ever loving FUCK out of you and shitcanning your miserable ass, THE BETTER. Meantime I got deep reserves of anti bullshit evil owner shit I can draw on. The faces change? Your face is gonna get changed into one that is MUCH FUCKING FLATTER THAN IT WAS BEFORE. The song remains the same? Imma play a few new notes ON YOUR FUCKING SKULL. You could have kept me out of all of this shit but you had to go and involve me day one. Bad move, shitstain. Because class is back in session one more time this Friday and I get to teach you Life Skills 101.
DO NOT FUCK WITH THIS 'NESIAN.
Taane leans towards the lens of the camera he used to film his promo. Extending his pinkie finger and thumb into the Shaka sign, he glares at the lens. If he was in a more pleasant mood he may well have been content to throw it as a sign of racial pride. Instead he shows his tongue fully (a quite violent Maori insult) and slowly draws his thumb across his throat in a threatening motion.
Cut to black.