Dear Cockbite,
Tonight, in front of twenty thousand screaming fans at the worlds most famous arena, I finally make you my bitch. Honestly, considering that you’ve spent the last three and a half months whining about me and my presence in SVW every chance you got, it’s something you’ve had coming. Because let’s face it, the only reason you’re even in this match against me is because you’re jealous. I can’t blame you for that- the fact of the matter is that I’m pretty much flat out better than you at every single thing. I’m a better manager. I’m a better wrestler. I’m a better ladies man. And yes, Millar, I’m a better announcer too.
Want proof? You haven’t announced a main event in FFW since the September 5 Byte This. Think on that. Did you ever think that the only reason Michael Meadow’s petition wasn’t signed was simply because we didn’t want him either? No, we’ve gone with choice C- none of the above. That’s why instead of you behind the desk for the big matches, it’s been a revolving door of commentators. Wolf Ramsey. Myself. Leander Apollo, who’s obviously been hired as your replacement. Fuck, even Valerie Belmont.
Think on that, Millar. Management would rather have that uneducated marble-mouthed Scottish LARPer calling a main event than you. And you still want to stand there and tell me that you’re viewed with any sort of confidence?
No, CCM. The fact of the matter is, the only reason your around is because your wife is a piece of hot ass (albeit as equally untalented), and Gambini wants to make you happy so that he can keep Millar around, and she can keep exposing her tits to the world and think it actually means something, all the while being overshadowed by the true talent of the T&A division, Nikkii Spainhower. You know, the woman who put your balls into your throat three weeks ago with her soccer kick of death? Trust me, that was worth every single “ding” of the bell that rung to disqualify us.
Ah, jealousy. The green eyed monster (well, other than Wendy during the possum incident). You and your wife have a problem with it. Arianna’s been jealous of Nikkii since day one. That’s because Nikkii has outsmarted and outperformed her every single step of the way. And like I told you time and time again, I did not cost your vacant-eyed fuckhole her title. Nikkii had her beat, and she jumped on top of me, which is probably what she does with any guy she comes within fifteen feet of. The only difference is that instead of me sticking her in the pogo she pogoed her stick into my foot. I’d have even been willing to forgive it write it offBy the time I’m done, was an accident, had you not gone all Pissy McRagerton on me.
Well, tonight, payback will be every bit as big a bitch as your wife is. I’m serious, here. What I started on you three weeks ago finishes tonight. Only this time, there won’t be any nutshots from my friend Nikkii. Just a whole lot of punches, kicks, and a big hot bowl of F3 with a steamy side of Lycan Drop. I hope Arianna saves some strength during the wet t-shirt contest, because by the time I’m done with you, she’ll be on the first bus to Soho, hoping to turn enough tricks and raise enough money so that they let you stay in the hospital. It could take a while- at five bucks a pop, it could be months before she can raise it.
It’s a shame that I actually have to divide my focus here tonight, thanks to the presence of one Don Tirri. First of all, thank you for that wonderfully hillarious video of Tirri losing to a baby. It’s about the only amusing thing you’ve done in the past six months. But ultimately it’s irrelevant. I can’t even call Don Tirri a troll. His remarks are so asinine- all they ultimately amount to are little more than a waste of time.
But this idiots involvement is your fault anyways, Millar. Had you been a good boy and stayed in your seat and let me kick his ass properly, instead of giving him a DQ victory over me, this would be over. So yet another mess of yours I’m going to have to clean up after.
It ends tonight, Millar, and I move on to bigger and better things. You can send your worthless wife over to FFW, where she can wreck Desirae Kain’s career, and slowly get ousted more and more from the announcers booth. And Tirri can go back to Fagland and try and see if he can get a Nobel Prize for stupidity. Me? I got places to go, things to do, and asses to kick.
Starting with yours.
Polla. Out.
-DP
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