I think you and I need to have a talk.
Now mind you. I want you to actually listen. This is some skill you probably haven't ever used so I will speak slowly and not use to much of my large vocabulary so you can follow along.
You are a bitch.
You are a coward.
'I got sick'. Fuck you. See. I had a plan for this lovely pay per view that had nothing to do with you. It had nothing to do with any of you. See. You people. You stupid ignorant fucktards. You don't get it do you?
Everything you do has consequences.
Now I know that you don't want to fight me in a dumpster match. Truth is. I don't want to fight you either. You are a waste of my time.
Yet. Here we stand. You tried to run and the new boss decided to up the stakes.
So instead of taking the beating that you are paid to take.
Instead of doing the smart thing.
Once again you fuck yourself in the ass.
So what happens in this match. Everything that I am going to do to you. All the pain. All the frustration. All of agony.
Is going to be all your fault.
See. I've been playing nice. I really have. I haven't gone one man war on your stable like I should. I haven't done what should have been done for two reasons. I don't give a fuck and it doesn't suit my plans. Since you don't seem to understand 'your role' in all of this I am going to move a few pieces and change it for you.
Instead of a footnote. You just became my sacrificial lamb.
Some 'hall of famer' eh? I need to go home because I'm sick.
Do you know aside from when people like you duck me I haven't taken a week off since I got here voluntarily.
Do you get just how degrading someone like you is to this business?
Besides. I know you aren't paying attention to a damn thing I am saying right now. Something else has all of your attention.
Someone showing his one eyed face again.
See. You aren't going to have to worry about Nirvana. No. You aren't going to have to worry about that cowardly snake in the grass. You aren't going to be able to fucking show your face by the time I am done with you!
See. I don't give a fuck about the national title. I hate that damn thing just like I hate all titles. I, however, know for a fact you need it to be relevant. Let's face it. If you were actually still good at what you did you wouldn't need it as a crutch for power would you?
So since it's the only thing keeping you from being the laughing stock of your little therapy group.
I'm going to take it from you. Then.
I'm going to fucking burn your ass.
'Dude I was sick'
Then the match would have been over quicker. Take your beating like a man. Take a 'get the fuck over myself' pill and go to work. You work one fucking day a week. Unless you actually still do house shows which I doubt. You get sick. You suck it up. You work.
This is all because you wanted to not face me.
Well. Let's think. How could this really have been avoided. Maybe you could have had a plan. Like I dunno. Get all of your boys to come down and take me out. That could work. What do you guys care about the rules right? Hey. I'd do the same thing if I was a moron. Because then people would have wanted it more. With them banned from ringside. Believe me I know if you get 'creative' that I am probably gonna get trashed in this match.
You just seem to be under the impression I haven't thought of this yet.
Let me clarify something to you.
You 'claim' your group is original, and yet week in and week out, you all do the same shit over and over again.
In terms you can understand without getting lost Johnny boy...you are fucking predictable as hell.
'I'll show you I'll...I'll...'
You'll what? Think of some way to screw me? I'm counting on it. The more you do that the more the demand is for you to face me. The people. The fans. The guys ruining your life right now want to see me teabag you. I don't want to. I find this whole thing stupid. Yet you. You seem to be a glutton for punishment. See Ace...he's at least accepting his new role as a loser with some grace.
You haven't picked up on it yet.
By the time I am done with your little stable.
Everyone is going to think you are a joke. No worries. It happens to everyone. You've been a masked man. Now you're an asshole. Eventually in your career you are going to become a joke.
Except I want you to skip this. Go out gracefully. In the trash where you belong.
As for this 'title'. Fluffy. Do me a favor. Get me a new belt! I don't want anything touched by glorified failure to touch me ever again.
I had enough of that with Nirvana.
You know the funny part about both of you. You are pretty much the same person.
You both talk a big game you can't back up.
You both think you can manipulate me.
You both think you can control the chaos factor of SFT.
The place where you are, but mere reflections.
Is you are both cowards.
Get ready to play to your type. Get ready to run.
Because I know something you don't.
I know what's going to happen to you. Win. Lose. Or Draw.
The end is nigh.
At this pay per view I promise. Something none of you can stop.
If you think I'm bad now...
Just wait. It's about to get worse.