Post by Deleted on Oct 9, 2016 2:04:51 GMT
Let’s address the fucking elephant in the room, eh?
A man like you needs to know the risks, Dick. You’re exposed to certain dangers that a man like me doesn’t need to fear. If you’re insisting on trying to fuck around without protection; without knowing what you’re getting yourself into, then you’re at severe risk of contracting a life threatening, incurable case of AIDS: An Impending Defeat, Son.
Just looking at the symptoms of AIDS, I’d say there’s every chance you’ve already exposed yourself to the virus, motherfucker. Let me break it down for you.
RAPID WEIGHT LOSS
What are you? Like, one hundred and seventy-five pounds? You’ve got this fucking weird, skinny-fat thing going where it’s like your muscles have been eaten away from the inside, leaving only an atrophied motherfucker; a 68-inch skin sack of bone, cum and blubber. Is it any wonder you lack any credible strength and punch like a bitch? You’re a victim of AIDS.
EXTREME OR UNEXPLAINED TIREDNESS
In 11 days, that extreme tiredness will set in, but it’s definitely not unexplainable. See, you won’t get into an RSW ring with anyone who hits harder than I do. Once I throw several fucking bombs into your rib-cage, chest and stomach, you’ll be breathless and tired in seconds. No amount of endurance or stamina can prevent you from gassing out. You’ll be dead on your fucking feet, before becoming yet another victim of AIDS.
BODY SORES
Bruises, cuts, welts – you name it, in 11 days’ time, you’ll have it. That’s what AIDS does to you, you little prick.
NEUROLOGICAL DISORDERS; CONFUSION
You’ve got this bad, Dick. I mean, where the fuck do I start? You’ve got this move you call “lights out”; a sleeper hold, right? Motherfucker, you have the worst submission game in this company. You might as well just give me a fucking hug. Then you talk about having an “unorthodox style” – are you serious? How the fuck would you know, rookie? Take it from someone with the experience to know how to fuck you up in ten seconds flat; there’s nothing unorthodox about a scoop slam, about an enzugiri, about a bulldog, about a rear chin lock, about knife-edge chops or about a hangman’s neck breaker. There’s nothing unorthodox about an aerialist with some technical ability. You’re one confused little bastard and it’s all a sign of AIDS.
PERSISTENT DIARRHEA
Motherfucker, you ought to be shitting yourself at the thought of stepping into that ring against me. For one thing, you strike me as the kind of cunt who counts every inch and I’ve got four of ‘em over you, asshole. Not only do I hit to kill, I’ve got the size and reach advantage to do it without giving you the chance to get anywhere fucking near me. You’re stepping into a fight with a mean bastard; an undefeated animal who’s 35-pounds heavier than you, with a better technique than you, more experience than you and the ability to lock your narrow ass into any submission and have you tapping like a bitch. After all, you’re inferior in so many fucking areas, but none more so than the ability to apply or withstand a submission. On top of that, you’re being watched by thousands of people desperate to see me get back in the fucking ring after a spell away and do what I do best. All eyes are on us, Dick. That’s no good for a man with your composure; for a man who gets flustered as easily as you do. If you ain’t shitting yourself uncontrollably now, it’ll come eventually. That’s AIDS for you.
Trust me, Dick – you’re gonna get eaten alive in 11 days by AIDS. I can imagine you’re sitting at home thinking: “What the fuck do I do to stop this?” and the truth of the matter is there’s nothing you can do. You fucked with the wrong guy and you didn’t know the risks, so now you’ve got to pay the price.
You don’t recover. You don’t bounce back. You don’t have any triumphant moments after October 20, Dick. When it’s all said and done, you’ll realise that being booked against me is a fucking death sentence.
A man like you needs to know the risks, Dick. You’re exposed to certain dangers that a man like me doesn’t need to fear. If you’re insisting on trying to fuck around without protection; without knowing what you’re getting yourself into, then you’re at severe risk of contracting a life threatening, incurable case of AIDS: An Impending Defeat, Son.
Just looking at the symptoms of AIDS, I’d say there’s every chance you’ve already exposed yourself to the virus, motherfucker. Let me break it down for you.
RAPID WEIGHT LOSS
What are you? Like, one hundred and seventy-five pounds? You’ve got this fucking weird, skinny-fat thing going where it’s like your muscles have been eaten away from the inside, leaving only an atrophied motherfucker; a 68-inch skin sack of bone, cum and blubber. Is it any wonder you lack any credible strength and punch like a bitch? You’re a victim of AIDS.
EXTREME OR UNEXPLAINED TIREDNESS
In 11 days, that extreme tiredness will set in, but it’s definitely not unexplainable. See, you won’t get into an RSW ring with anyone who hits harder than I do. Once I throw several fucking bombs into your rib-cage, chest and stomach, you’ll be breathless and tired in seconds. No amount of endurance or stamina can prevent you from gassing out. You’ll be dead on your fucking feet, before becoming yet another victim of AIDS.
BODY SORES
Bruises, cuts, welts – you name it, in 11 days’ time, you’ll have it. That’s what AIDS does to you, you little prick.
NEUROLOGICAL DISORDERS; CONFUSION
You’ve got this bad, Dick. I mean, where the fuck do I start? You’ve got this move you call “lights out”; a sleeper hold, right? Motherfucker, you have the worst submission game in this company. You might as well just give me a fucking hug. Then you talk about having an “unorthodox style” – are you serious? How the fuck would you know, rookie? Take it from someone with the experience to know how to fuck you up in ten seconds flat; there’s nothing unorthodox about a scoop slam, about an enzugiri, about a bulldog, about a rear chin lock, about knife-edge chops or about a hangman’s neck breaker. There’s nothing unorthodox about an aerialist with some technical ability. You’re one confused little bastard and it’s all a sign of AIDS.
PERSISTENT DIARRHEA
Motherfucker, you ought to be shitting yourself at the thought of stepping into that ring against me. For one thing, you strike me as the kind of cunt who counts every inch and I’ve got four of ‘em over you, asshole. Not only do I hit to kill, I’ve got the size and reach advantage to do it without giving you the chance to get anywhere fucking near me. You’re stepping into a fight with a mean bastard; an undefeated animal who’s 35-pounds heavier than you, with a better technique than you, more experience than you and the ability to lock your narrow ass into any submission and have you tapping like a bitch. After all, you’re inferior in so many fucking areas, but none more so than the ability to apply or withstand a submission. On top of that, you’re being watched by thousands of people desperate to see me get back in the fucking ring after a spell away and do what I do best. All eyes are on us, Dick. That’s no good for a man with your composure; for a man who gets flustered as easily as you do. If you ain’t shitting yourself uncontrollably now, it’ll come eventually. That’s AIDS for you.
Trust me, Dick – you’re gonna get eaten alive in 11 days by AIDS. I can imagine you’re sitting at home thinking: “What the fuck do I do to stop this?” and the truth of the matter is there’s nothing you can do. You fucked with the wrong guy and you didn’t know the risks, so now you’ve got to pay the price.
You don’t recover. You don’t bounce back. You don’t have any triumphant moments after October 20, Dick. When it’s all said and done, you’ll realise that being booked against me is a fucking death sentence.
