| XLR8A |
13.04.2007 10:53 AM |
@ my fan club:
If this contest was Royal Rumble, I would probably be Ted Dibiase, the Million Dollar Man, repeatedly battering your prone bodies with blows whilst your managers, wives and children are captured on camera crying for mercy in the audience. Old Vantaa Man, you can still tap out, as you have been forced to do every previous time you've attempted to wrassle with Macho Man XLR8A, but I am pumped up with internet steroids and ready to keep the crowd roaring my name. Even Vince McMahon couldn't save you now, call for the Undertaker if you wish. He will not hear your pathetic, bleating cries. WOOOOOOOOH YEAH!
His attempts to make me mad having been swatted away like so many pesky flies, Old Vantaa Man tried to rally by calling a tag team, but he could only manage the online equivalent of those wrestlers that get beat down before everybody has even taken their seats. Nobody with any sense wants to tag a guy with no hair on his balls, and Mean Gene Okerlund is holding his head in his hands, informing the horrified audience that any more replies from Vantaa Man Short Salami will merely summon the equivalent of a big splash sadistically delivered to the stretcher, as you are pulled out in ruins. Perhaps I will find time to smite you with an aluminium dustbin, maybe drop a ton of bricks on your e-ambulance, or menace you with a venomous snake.
I stand alone in the ring, mullet dripping with sweat, the belt is mine once again. The thread is bookmarked; the champage is on ice.
What you gonna do when xlr8amania runs wild on you?
 |
