How do you measure a year?

In good times. In bad times. Tell me. Just where do you fit into these times? None of you have stopped me ever since it happened all those many months ago. Not once have I truly fallen. Oh, I lost titles that mean nothing,but yet I still stand. A monument to the mockery of SFT. All of your words. All of your whining. All of your flights of fantasy. Not one of you can stop a man in a burlap sack of a mask. It's truly laughable.

It was a year ago. This very event. An event that signaled the slow and decaying end of SFT.

Hi. My name is Ataxia. This is my story.

I came here representing a far better federation and woe and behold I get cheated out of doing what I set out to do. A slap in the face by someone who couldn't stand someone “different”. Someone who decided that I wasn't good enough to win a match because I wasn't “SFT”. Little knowing that I was out to win the tournament. Not this stupid world title you all cling to like it's something fucking special. It's not. Because all you are. All you have ever been. Is a lie.

Which brings me to history repeating itself. Hello Dave.

Tell me. Do I just attract all you old fucks who can't cut it anymore? Is it my cologne? Do I just attract pests like some sort of soothing plant with a sweet nectar that just screams “ride my fucking coattails”?

Because that's what this is. I would go into just how pathetic you fucking are, but insert your name into any promo I've done in the last year and it fits like a glove. A glove that I am tired of slapping you all in the face with. You all know the deal. You all know the score. You are a whiny child trying to get attention.

Look at me! I use to matter! I use to be somebody back when this was nothing!

Newsflash. It still is. Instead of your crap we get to listen to minotaurs, jesus, and how bad some wannabe hardcore champion is going to kick my ass. It sickens me. Which is sad really. I'm one of these guys who really doesn't give a fuck, but damn you people are depressing.

It's like someone decided to give a bunch of no talent hacks a playground and people actually bought into that they were something fucking special...oh hi Shadow didn't see you there laughing all the way to the bank.

Silly me. You actually thought you made a difference when really all you did was make something stupid somewhat successful. It must be so wonderful living on your side of the fence in make believe land where DVD is actually something to be feared.

Anyone can attack someone and try to look like a bad ass.

Anyone can claim they are going to win the Lethal Lottery.

My opponents apparently all ready think that I have whipped my ego out and stroked off on how badly I am going to win this tournament. See. That's the thing. I know how to win this tournament. Luck smiled on me. I get my old tag team partner. I get Evan Corbyn.

You get a idealistic little shit who is about to get curb stomped.

You probably didn't get the memo about me so I'm going to give you a bit of a spoiler. Yes. I wear a burlap sack looking mask. Yes I am a bit odd. Yes I am going to win even if I lose and this seems to be the sticking point for everyone here. This is the one thing that none of you seem to get. I've all ready destroyed this place without even getting into Shadow's little ring and fighting him on his own fucking terms. So why do the Lethal Lottery then Tax? You all ready won the world title and didn't give two fucks? Why try?

I'm not trying. I'm doing. If you figure out that they are two different things you might realize that you are all still extremely fucked.

So you are not afraid of me Roger? Good. It's about time someone finally caught onto the joke. I am nothing to be afraid of. Boooooooo. Hehehehe. Oh don't worry. I am sure you have been a busy little bee studying away at all of my faults and yet everything you have learned...




Dave's a bit of a prick. More on him later. I've got all the time in the world to take you down a peg or two you little fucknugget.

You claim to be this big bad champion. I have yet to see you prove a damn thing to anyone. You won a little belt? Wow. I am sooooooo impressed with you.

Come here. Let's cuddle. Let's have at it. Let's do something about this ego of yours. You think you know me shithead? I have no intentions of being anything more than just a man who is out to prove his point to the world. That point is that this place is a cesspool in needs of a cleansing fire.

I've done that. My mere existence proves that this place is a pile of shit and I am un-fucking-stoppable. You want to prove yourself? You wanna make something of yourself Roger?

Stop me.

Before I stop you...forever.

This is the Lethal Lottery. It all depends on team work. There is no I in team. There is only one thing Evan and I have to decide upon that will cause an argument between us...

Who gets to snap your fucking jaw off and shit down your neck!

We fade in on Ataxia sitting in front of two masks. They each look like Roger Storms and DVD with their eyes shut. Ataxia places the two hears together and mocks them making out.

Ataxia: Kissy Kissy. We're so awesome. La-de-dah-de-dah.

Ataxia takes out a fork and starts carving off a piece of the face of Roger Storms. Ataxia: all made me this way. I would have left after I lost the title. This is all because of your egos...

Close up on Ataxia's red teeth as they chew some of Roger's "face". Ataxia: Emmm...He tastes like hope and candy. I wonder what the other one holds....AHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAH