(Butch): Wow, you really do love the sound of your own voice, don’t you Michael? For the next few minutes or so Michael, I’m not going to send the entire fan-base of HWA into a boredom-induced coma of nonsensical, self-righteous and repetitive bullshit. See, despite your own opinions of what I have to say, your own opinions on me, my wife, and this whole situation are completely predictable; you just manage to word it in a different way. You can throw out all the threats you want and paint your opinion of me and my status as HWA World Champion in so many different styles but we still come to the centre of the shrubbery maze and that’s that you simply don’t like me, my wife, the fact that I’m the HWA World Champion and you’re not. That’s pretty much the be-all-and-end-all of every promo you cut Michael and you manage to procrastinate that opinion across what seems like an eternity.
Newsflash you wanker; the whole f***ing world knows you hate me, want to f**k my wife and that every second longer that I hold the HWA World Championship it makes you angrier and angrier. Every man and their dog knows that Michael so change the f**king record!
You seem to think because you have this little streak going and you’ve got a few title defences under your belt that this makes you something special? Don’t get me wrong, you are impressive in the ring; that was never in any doubt despite my misgivings about your character and personality. Despite your own delusions about your stature here in HWA, as a near-ten year veteran of this company, I’m here to tell you that in the grand scheme of things, you’re not that special. I’ve seen champions like you come and go every year. Men who have walked through the doors of HWA, made a statement, won a title, got a chip on their shoulder and when the time came to truly shine, the moment abandoned them and they choked; forced out of the limelight by their own egos and misinterpretations about what greatness really is. You haven’t even scratched the surface of what it takes to be a true legend in the HWA, Michael. Hell, no one had even heard of you before you started using my name in your promos. People would Google or YouTube my name and after watching my matches and hearing what I had to say, they would find videos of some random Japanese prick thinking his shit smelled like Febreeze berating a man he in actuality knows nothing about
Like it or not, Michael, you’re star is on the rise because of me. Your capture of the All Star Championship didn’t get you to where you’re at nor did your defeats of Freddie Styles, Judas Mercury et all. When people ask who Michael James is, they don’t say “He’s the undefeated All Star Champion in HWA”, or “He’s undefeated in HWA”, they say “He’s that asshole who beat up on the defenceless father of a handicapped child” and “Isn’t he weirdo that took out a restraining order against Butch Parker’s wife?” You see the pattern in those two statements, Michael? You’re famous because of my name and the despicable acts you think are justifiable. When people ask who Butch Parker is, the answer is instantaneous. Whether you or I like it or not, I’m considered a legend, not just in HWA but the sport of professional wrestling. Not because I’ve kissed anyone’s ass, not because I’ve had things handed to me but because I’ve worked tirelessly for twenty goddamn years, honing my craft and perfecting my skills. Your pathetic off-hand comments about my ability do very little to put any doubt in my mind or anyone else’s for that matter. The only person who believes what you have to say is you, Michael.
You’ve built a seemingly impenetrable fortress of lies and disillusions round you to protect your ego from what the real world knows to be true and I will break through that fortress and show not the world because it knows, well the people who know who you are that is, what a wanker you are, but more importantly, you yourself. You can’t be successful unless you’re riding on the coattails of someone you want to humiliate and you outwear the notion like a song on repeat – it seems like a good idea at the time but after you hear it for the thousandth time, you’re just f***ing bored of it. The long and short of Michael is that no matter how big you try to make yourself out to be, no matter how many times you try and convince yourself that your defeat of me was the worst of my career, the only person who is really paying any sort of attention is you. Because I know for a fact your so-called defeat of me wasn’t the worst of my career, in fact I don’t think it even cracks my top three. You continue to bleat on about my winning record thus far like it’s some kind of stupid security blanket for you. The only person that has pinned me in the last few months is you and you really can’t call that a proper victory when you needed four other guys to attack me before you could slither in and pick at my carcass like a goddamn hyena. And before you say, I know, I know you’re a heel and that’s what heels do. Still pretty rich coming from someone who was born with natural talent and claims to not need any sort of help or support to get the job done.
Butch wryly smiles the subtlest of smiles before lightly shaking his head disparagingly.
(Butch): See Michael, normally, I’d listen to what you have to say, consider all the variables and dissect it segment by segment, providing a counter-argument for every single ignorant or misguided comment you made. But then you’d just reply and comment on how predictable my material is and then you’d go ahead and rehash the same bullshit you’ve recycled a dozen times before. The thing is Michael, no matter what you say or do, I will never have to prove my worth to you or prove why I belong here or prove how tough and talented I am at my profession. You know why? Because I don’t need to. In my career I’m an eight-time World Champion. I’ve shared the ring with some of the greatest wrestlers this business has to offer. I’ve suffered more career-threatening injuries than you’ve had birthdays and yet here I am. I endure, Michael James. I’ve paid my dues a thousand times over and it will take more than the tainted opinions of a disillusioned wanker to make me think twice about that.
And now we find ourselves on opposing sides of the ring once more; paired with partners we both share an unusual definition of respect for in Shakir and Freddie Styles. Shakir - a man who is incapable of thinking for himself and seeks subjugation from anyone who deems themselves a higher power than him. Freddie Styles – a man fully committed to this sport and perfecting his craft and probably the only man with as much disdain for you as myself. Freddie claims not to care about anyone involved in this match at Havoc and that doesn’t bother me one iota. The only thing I care about is his determination to beat the shit out of you and Shakir when the time calls for it.
As for as our Best of Three Series is concerned though; you can rest assured no matter what is chosen, you’ll not find me wanting. If you think I’m a stranger to matches of the hardcore persuasion; you’re gravely mistaken and if you knew the way you seem to think you do, you’d already know that. In fact, I’m going to go out on a limb and let you pick the first match type or stipulation. Do your worst Michael and I guarantee there’s nothing you can suggest that will scare me or make me uncomfortable. Think of your most barbaric Japanese death match you can think of. Do your worst Michael.
Butch walks off camera as the scene fades to black.
Message Thread
« Back to index