Post by 𝗖𝗢𝗥𝗘𝗬 𝗕𝗟𝗔𝗖𝗞 on Jan 23, 2020 21:02:46 GMT -5
From the wooden coffin steps Corey Black, smile upon his face. He reaches down and grabs a long blade from the ground, along with a piece of paper.
"Zombie McMorris, fabled Duke of New York turned very bad meme generator. That's the thing though, isn't it, ZMAC hides his insecurities behind crude humor and impossibly bad rhetoric. This dude isn't a wrestler, he's a homeless guy with a bum fight job on a higher scale. He's been around eight years and I've watched him every step of the way, it's an onslaught of madness and gibberish brought on by likely decades of substance abuse.
This guy does more lines than a gangbang professional.
But what he lacks in sanity he more than makes up for in ferocity. The only thing about that is he's never quite battled a King before. And as far as I can tell, I'm immune to the old Internet Championship ways of trying to get in a dude's head.
So let's set it all out there, ZMAC, for the whole world to see.
You're a fucking pile and it's a goddamn miracle you even showed up here. You're barely a B-movie level competitor and the trash you spew makes James Nightingale look like Edgar Allan Poe. Flashing your APW belt like I'm supposed to be impressed? Frank walked in there, swung cock in one match and is already gonna swipe up that World Championship. Clearly it's mostly full of low hanging fruit. But ya see, you're fighting for my ACTION WRESTLING Hardcore Championship, the culmination of your HORROR KORE TOUR that had stops that made Beau Del Sol and Jaice Wilds look like Odin fucking Balfore. Unfortunately, the destination is your demise as one SNAP of my fingers and YOU'RE DUST.
That is if the toxins traveling in your bloodstream don't rot you from the inside out first. That's your best trait, the thing you hang your hat on the most, you do this to fund your addictions. You snatch up the money the Saudis offer and give it right back to the pieces of garbage that sell your smack. I don't have vices, McMorris. I don't need vices to live my life to the fullest, beating down Flyjobbers like you that have plagued my ring for far too long gets me off more than any white powder ever will do for you.
You're such a fucking mark I'm surprised you didn't do your promo dancing down the Joker steps because EDGY. Shock jock bullshit for as long as I've seen it is like throwing a dart at a titanium slab - ain't gonna dent my shit, ZMAC. Chuck a dude into a volcano and all the sudden the marble mouthed joke becomes local legend, more at eleven. You've known for years I am the guy, I am the name above all names. And you come at me, the best you or anyone has ever seen, with such WEAK ass SHIT like I'm gonna roll over and cry like Adam Young just pinned me in War?
GET. OUT. OF. HERE.
I've sung your praises before but champ, know this. That was then. This is now. Back when I was running shop with Fly, Orbit and Purse you were gobbling up nobodies and generally staying out of everyone's way. Now you are fixin' to stand across the mat from the King and think you're going to eat elbows like they're slaps from a baby. Son, let's get one thing STRAIGHT and CLEAR - your soul belongs to me. Your entire life, all your Vapor King nonsense and Buddy Roman titty milk you have frozen in your freezer waiting for you to consume is MINE. When I compress your Atlas, Axis, C3 and C4 into one condensed mush of fuck maybe you'll open those bloodshot eyes and see God, you'll see Bobby Cairo's spirit reaching out to you and he'll say "Zombie, it's time to go" but you won't. You won't let go because the coke is fueling your heart but ya brain died a decade ago.
Zombie Two Belts lived and died before you even spoke the words, we aren't counting your Southern Championship, Doc Henry. In 2020 we don't need to pay a dude to make a belt and carry it around like a mark to make people think you're worth a fuck. The grease and grime from your hair could cook a pound of fries, you live like a cult icon but you swim in cash from murderers. You're a living breathing paradox that has no business being graced by competition from a being such as I. Hardcore Title or not, you should drop a few and see what's up in 201. Maybe down there all the side bitches will suck just enough to allow you a W, needless to say I'm a MAIN bitch and I'm fixing to shove my elbow down your esophagus.
You KNOW you aren't made for this level, Zombie. You have known since day one that you'd never be good enough to rub shoulders at the top, so you hop on your laptop you stole from some person in a Starbucks and you try to flip the scrips with tired tropes and blocky white font on a picture. You're the worst subreddit. You're the Facebook post everyone's stupid Aunt Karen shares and she gets pissy when nobody fucking likes it. Year in and year out it's the same story, Zombie gets a match, Zombie makes fun of his opponent, his opponent tries to copy him and fails because ONSLAUGHT OF NOTHING OF SUBSTANCE.
I've got substance, boy. I've got meat, potatoes and all the accouterments. You're out here like a Jr. Bacon Chee, made up of a bunch of garbage and ya need three more to satisfy your hunger.
Honey Badger better start fucking caring. I ain't fucked, McMorris. Nobody here is fuckin' on me, they're all SUCKING MY DICK."
"Zombie McMorris, fabled Duke of New York turned very bad meme generator. That's the thing though, isn't it, ZMAC hides his insecurities behind crude humor and impossibly bad rhetoric. This dude isn't a wrestler, he's a homeless guy with a bum fight job on a higher scale. He's been around eight years and I've watched him every step of the way, it's an onslaught of madness and gibberish brought on by likely decades of substance abuse.
This guy does more lines than a gangbang professional.
But what he lacks in sanity he more than makes up for in ferocity. The only thing about that is he's never quite battled a King before. And as far as I can tell, I'm immune to the old Internet Championship ways of trying to get in a dude's head.
So let's set it all out there, ZMAC, for the whole world to see.
You're a fucking pile and it's a goddamn miracle you even showed up here. You're barely a B-movie level competitor and the trash you spew makes James Nightingale look like Edgar Allan Poe. Flashing your APW belt like I'm supposed to be impressed? Frank walked in there, swung cock in one match and is already gonna swipe up that World Championship. Clearly it's mostly full of low hanging fruit. But ya see, you're fighting for my ACTION WRESTLING Hardcore Championship, the culmination of your HORROR KORE TOUR that had stops that made Beau Del Sol and Jaice Wilds look like Odin fucking Balfore. Unfortunately, the destination is your demise as one SNAP of my fingers and YOU'RE DUST.
That is if the toxins traveling in your bloodstream don't rot you from the inside out first. That's your best trait, the thing you hang your hat on the most, you do this to fund your addictions. You snatch up the money the Saudis offer and give it right back to the pieces of garbage that sell your smack. I don't have vices, McMorris. I don't need vices to live my life to the fullest, beating down Flyjobbers like you that have plagued my ring for far too long gets me off more than any white powder ever will do for you.
You're such a fucking mark I'm surprised you didn't do your promo dancing down the Joker steps because EDGY. Shock jock bullshit for as long as I've seen it is like throwing a dart at a titanium slab - ain't gonna dent my shit, ZMAC. Chuck a dude into a volcano and all the sudden the marble mouthed joke becomes local legend, more at eleven. You've known for years I am the guy, I am the name above all names. And you come at me, the best you or anyone has ever seen, with such WEAK ass SHIT like I'm gonna roll over and cry like Adam Young just pinned me in War?
GET. OUT. OF. HERE.
I've sung your praises before but champ, know this. That was then. This is now. Back when I was running shop with Fly, Orbit and Purse you were gobbling up nobodies and generally staying out of everyone's way. Now you are fixin' to stand across the mat from the King and think you're going to eat elbows like they're slaps from a baby. Son, let's get one thing STRAIGHT and CLEAR - your soul belongs to me. Your entire life, all your Vapor King nonsense and Buddy Roman titty milk you have frozen in your freezer waiting for you to consume is MINE. When I compress your Atlas, Axis, C3 and C4 into one condensed mush of fuck maybe you'll open those bloodshot eyes and see God, you'll see Bobby Cairo's spirit reaching out to you and he'll say "Zombie, it's time to go" but you won't. You won't let go because the coke is fueling your heart but ya brain died a decade ago.
Zombie Two Belts lived and died before you even spoke the words, we aren't counting your Southern Championship, Doc Henry. In 2020 we don't need to pay a dude to make a belt and carry it around like a mark to make people think you're worth a fuck. The grease and grime from your hair could cook a pound of fries, you live like a cult icon but you swim in cash from murderers. You're a living breathing paradox that has no business being graced by competition from a being such as I. Hardcore Title or not, you should drop a few and see what's up in 201. Maybe down there all the side bitches will suck just enough to allow you a W, needless to say I'm a MAIN bitch and I'm fixing to shove my elbow down your esophagus.
You KNOW you aren't made for this level, Zombie. You have known since day one that you'd never be good enough to rub shoulders at the top, so you hop on your laptop you stole from some person in a Starbucks and you try to flip the scrips with tired tropes and blocky white font on a picture. You're the worst subreddit. You're the Facebook post everyone's stupid Aunt Karen shares and she gets pissy when nobody fucking likes it. Year in and year out it's the same story, Zombie gets a match, Zombie makes fun of his opponent, his opponent tries to copy him and fails because ONSLAUGHT OF NOTHING OF SUBSTANCE.
I've got substance, boy. I've got meat, potatoes and all the accouterments. You're out here like a Jr. Bacon Chee, made up of a bunch of garbage and ya need three more to satisfy your hunger.
Honey Badger better start fucking caring. I ain't fucked, McMorris. Nobody here is fuckin' on me, they're all SUCKING MY DICK."