I'm a loser baby, so why don't you kill me.

[Deleted]

Tera-Fied


GETTING ME HIGHER

Put It Inside


SET IT
0N FIRE

IT WAS ALL A DREAM

Lightning crashes with the big boom boom rattling the stone foundation of the castle we find ourselves in. (That got damn no good scally wag Brandon Moore is up to something again. People, this is a truly despicable and worthless piece of shit you are reluctantly here to bare witness. I don't even know why y'all bother coming to see this shit. I mean, look at this bastard. LOOK AT HIM. Ladies and gentlemen, that is your next XCore Champion, are you proud? Well who gives a shit, because there ain't a DAMN thing any fuggin body can do about it. Ha, ha, ha. Now shut up and pay attention.) The camera zooms in on Brandon Moore’s cunning glare as he raises his arms up, the wicked grin on his mug opening up wide.

B. Moore : “Muu Ah! Ha! Ha! Ha! HAAAAAA!!”

In his hands are needle and thread, as he's hard at work stitching together what one could only assume is a body. Why would we assume it's a body? This is Brandon fuggin Moore we're talking about here. If it wasn't a dead body then I'd be worried. Quietly this motha fugga is talking to himself, muttering the words not meant for your bitch ass eyes as your minds couldn't comprehend the intelligence of the Despised Icon. (I mean, y'all better get real, and real quick my dudes. Take a fuggin look around this shit hole company! All these so called "elite" talents, not exactly a stable of Yale yuppies or any other sort of fucks like that. The competition for the Despised One consists of people like Kyle Manson, he who has the largest two inch prick hard on for Dane Preston that he can't keep his dick out his mouth. Or there be people like Roger Wright, talented bastard, New Edge World Champion, but he's just another dime piece out of the dozen.) We watch as he intricately weaves the trocar through the monstrosity, piecing it together limb by limb. The precision at which he is able to delicately work paints the bigger picture here. A picture that tells you he's done this before many times over. What? Are you talking shit? I mean, what do YOU do with the body after you slit their fuggin throats? 

BOOM!

BOOM!

The thunder whips through the air, cracking the sky as it bleeds a down pour of an ungodly monsoon. The flash lightens up the dark, damp, and hollow room to reveal Brandon Moore in a lab coat standing in front of a table with a host of different types of medical equipment and other interesting instruments that he probably don't even know what the fugg they do. We see some like tubing running through a big ass machine, pumping a green substance, and wires attached and running through a body we can’t quite make out yet laid out on the table.

ZAP!

A sinister sounding organ belts out a nefarious tune that overlaps the scene. A wicked thunderstorm is raging on in the outside world as an enormous lightning bolt strikes a large steel antenna atop the castle as we witness the electrical charge zig and zag it’s way down the steel structure, coursing through the wiring and plugged to a harness on the body’s head. 

B. Moore : “IT’S ALIVE!!”

IT’S AAALLIIIIVE!!!!

B. Moore : “MUUUAAHHHH!! HAAA!!! HAAA!!!!! HAAAAA!!!!! HAAAA!!!!HAAAAAAAAA!!!!!!!!"

The body comes to life and sits up on the table revealing some kind of patchwork Shane Sparx monster or some shit like that, with freakin bolts sticking out his got damn neck! (Y'all thought this pussy ass bitch was ugly before, shit, I actually think this a fuggin improvement. You're welcome Shane. Got damn I'm gonna be tellin yo ass that a lot tonight since you've got so much to be thankful to me for. Seriously, YOU'RE WELCOME!) The monster is angry as a motha fugga and it shows on it's twisted ass face. He rips the wires out of his head and pulls out the tube from deep down his throat.

B. Moore : “I’VE DONE IT! I’VE CREATED THE XCORE BEAST!”

XCore Beast : “AAARRGGHHHH!!”

The monster formally known as Shane Sparx grabs Brandon by the neck as it comes off the table and stands freaking like nine feet tall or some shit like that. He choke slams Moore onto the metal table before grabbing him and slinging him across the room. Brandon is hooting and hollering of his accomplishment none thought possible as he flies across the room before smashing through a wooden side table. (For real my dudes, nobody even questions the authenticity of what transpired in the main event two weeks ago. It's almost as if this fuggin junkie was holding back. Why didn't he give Shane Sparx that bizzness like we all know he could have? It's a got damn conspiracy y'all. Will we get answers here tonight? Maybe, maybe not, maybe go fuck yourselves!) The XCore Beast grabs random shit in his path and throws it at Brandon Moore who is barely able to evade each foreign object launched his way. A leftover leg from some whore comes zipping at his face, and time gets fucked up Matrix style with Brandon looking all stupid n shit dodging it in slow motion. He grabs the chrome ball bat nearby and winds her up as the XCore Beast makes his approach.

PING!

Nothing.

PING! PING!

Three damn blasts to the Beast’s fuggin face and it ain’t doing SHIT! Brandon goes to hammer it’s puzzle like mug once more, but the Beast grabs the ball bat mid stroke, and rips it away before bending it right in half, turning the shit into a chrome pretzel. Beastie tosses the chrome whatever aside, proceeds to back hand Brandon and shove his fuggin nasty ass foot into his face. Moore is floored, head crackin on the cold concrete, now seeing little cartoon birds n shit along with stars. The beast dead lifts Brandon up into the got damn air. He throws him into a glass cabinet housing syringes and other medical utensils. Glass shards explode like fireworks, gadgets and tools flying all around.

XCore Beast : “XCOOOORRRRRREE!”

Brandon struggles to get his ass up, a fuggin spinal tap needle sticking through his weary face. The Beast grabs Brandon by the sides of his freakin head and pushes it’s fingers straight through his damn eyeballs, turning them into a slop that runs all down his shit. Brandon tries to kick the beast in the dick to no prevail. He throws a haymaker that he had to jump to make connect, breaking the bones to his wrists. Moore's hand just kinda flops about like Ryan Pugh's flaccid penis. (Hey Puke, how'd you like that rumble bruh? Congratulations on winn..oh that's right, that's right, my bad. I forgot the A List Anarchist and LA Johnny Stylez saved all of our asses from having to witness whatever that shit is you call wrestling in the World Championship scene. Just like he cost that punk ass wanna be Shane before you. Thank you Brandon, seriously my dude, everybody should be on hands and knees thanking you for always looking out for them. Thank you for ensuring the unworthy stay the fuck outta there! But don't worry Puke, you'll have your chance at revenge after everybody's favorite junkie wins the XCore Championship at Cold Front!) Beastie grabs Brandon by his head and launches him back to the other side of the room, with him hitting the metal table and skidding across before crashing to the floor. The beast picks him up over its head and throws him out the tenth story window. Brandon’s battered body begins it's descent to his certain doom. Beastie looks down from out the window as Moore turns himself over, pulling out a blunt for one last lick. He gives the middle finger as one last act of DEFIANCE.

B. Moore : “FUUUUCCKKKKK YOOUUUUUU XCOOOOORRRRRREE BEEEEEAASSSSTTT!”

SPLAT!

Brandon Moore jumps up awake in his bed, breathing heavy with his covers pitched up in a tent down below.

B. Moore : “Aww man.. it was just a dream.”

Brandon lays his head back down on the pillow, grips his Tickle Me Elmo tightly and closes his eyes falling soundly back to sleep.

HeHeHeHe
That
Tickles!

HA! A BEAST? IN YOUR DREAMS!

Chapter 3

Second chances.

DID YOU HEAR!?

I lost to Shane Sparx

“I know, I know, complete and total bullshit my friends. Believe me, I know.. BUT NEW EDGE, HAVE NO FEAR! Brandon Moore is locked and loaded this week to present to you motha fuggas that primo, that choice, that A1 sauce promo y’all have been accustomed to seeing from ya boy. So let’s get into it, shall we? Shane Sparx and Brandon Moore ushered in the new era of XCore Wrestling two weeks ago in what many are saying is the match of the year so far. There was ball bats, tables, fuggin shattered windshields and most importantly..”

BROKEN BODIES

broken bodies errywhere!

"Watch out though ya'll, the got damn comeback is strong with this motha fugga. Where you lesser punks take a defeat and let it tear y'all bitch asses down to little bitty pieces, shattering your pathetic egos, I grasp tightly to the lesson learned from within the moment. True power lies in wisdom, the knowledge gained through the experience which give ya dude that foundation upon which he sets up church. I was forged from that shit that don't exist anymore. They don't make em like they used to my dudes. Just take a look around and you'll understand what the fuck it is I am saying. Two weeks ago I blew my opportunity in the main event of Ignite with Shane Sparx, or did I? Gasp. But for real, that shit was fuggin fierce boy. My got damn body was mangled and beaten up one side of that fuggin arena and down the next. And so Shane, you're always constantly yappin on, and on, and on about being an ass kicker or some shit, and kudos, bitch, you won the first battle. But don't let that ass get too comfortable Shane, you only won the first of many.."

WELCOME TO WAR!!

leave your weak ass gimmick at home

"Your ass wanna be all respectful and sportsman like but check it bruh, this motha fugga who stands before you has only one purpose, TOTAL ANARCHY. Ya dude here is only in this shit to win, I ain't tryin to make friends. So lose that bitch ass smile, there ain't no got damn need to pretend. Your ass wasn't shit until I came along, pushing this XCore Division to some far out unfathomable heights these other motha fuggas could only dream of reaching. They say the hero is only as great as his villain, and my existence gives credence to that statement, turning it in to reality. As my got damn homie Bitchwax used to say, this is my gift, this is my curse..

KILLING YOUR HEROES

ONE

BY

ONE

"Let's face it Shane, without Brandon Moore, that ass would still only be viewed as a pretender to the throne you now sit atop. It's true, my friend, it is true. You were just scraping by before I came along, the XCore Championship nothing more than a prop for you to shuffle around and use to boost the false image you constructed of yourself. A poser in the truest since of the word. You were but a mere fan boy, idolizing the true kings of XCore and wishing so badly that you could be one of us. But you should have been careful about what you wished for, because two weeks ago was a gimmie. A gift wrapped successful championship defense to try and build you up to respectability. I am the motha fuggin man who will make all of your dreams come to life.."

AND SLAY THEM
AS QUICKLY
AS THEY CAME

get familiar bruh

"That main event match wasn't about a victory for me. I couldn't give any more of a shit about wins or losses because unlike yo bitch ass, I live, breathe, and bleed for this style of professional wrestling. It is truly a got damn way of life for the real Kings of Hardcore, excuse me, XCore, and the fact that you parade about with your goofy and juvenile antics pretending like you are one of us is a motha fuggin slap to the face that you follow up with a loogie for good measure. Have I already mentioned that before? Shit, I have. And I mentioned it a couple weeks ago? Got damn y'all..my bad, cocaine's a helluva drug am I right? Anyway, this isn't me saying you aren't a capable man nor is it me saying you can't hang with the big boys, I mean, that ass did "beat me." But hey, every damn body has their days, and that is all two weeks ago was. You had a better day that was GIVEN to you, plain and simple. Now let us see if that ass is truly ready to be knee deep in the grimy shit of war with Brandon fuggin Moore. Let us see if you absolutely are without a doubt ready to be in the driver's seat of the XCore Division. Don't forget your seat belt ya fugga.."

YOU'RE ON A
COLLISION COURSE

the chrome ball bat waits to greet that weak ass face

"What that main event match was for me, however, was unleashing that inner monster inside of you that all men have deep within them. You can thank me for legitimizing you, and taking yo ass to school. Don't you dare ever get the business twisted motha fugga, the first lesson was free, but now that ass is gonna start paying me. You'll be paying me with your blood, sweat and tears. I'll be taxing that ass a little extra for good measure too. I had to put my own agenda on hold just to lift you up so you'd at least be a worthy competitor for me to actually WANT TO put in a bit more effort towards whoopin that ass. I can pop that clutch and hit neutral to coast through these matches with all these schmucks and claim dubya after dubya. And that same were to be true with you. But I mean, where in the fugg could you possibly ever find the fun in that bullshit? I don't get off like that. Yano what I am sayin? Unlike you, who keeps them wrapped up in the package they come in like some kind of nerd or some shit.."

I LIKE TO PLAY
WITH MY TOYS

and you're my favorite one!

"Now I feel you are truly prepped and ready for the real Brandon Moore. You have graduated and leveled up. Congratulations, but you'll soon be quivering and shitting your pants after becoming the victim of some real motha fuggin violence. Mayhem is where I make that bread and churn the whipped butter, and you've only just had a measly taste of this destructive force that you'll use to inflate your fragile ego, proclaiming supremacy. But you see, that is where the joke of the matter truly lies as you continue to try your hand in being the sucker ass comic relief. And I eagerly anticipate the coming moment when your dull ass noggin recognizes the inescapable truth of your fucked reality, your eyes glossing over with fear and loathing as you realize your head is no longer above water and you can't breathe. Don't worry.."

I'LL NEVER
LET YOU DROWN

no, I don't think I will..

"Your heart will begin to arrhythmic kadunk with that chest tightening up, full blown panic attack as your body becomes your own worst enemy. Surrounded in an environment that whore momma Sparx tried so hard to seclude and shelter her baby boy from, you'll drop to your preferred position on worn out knees and plead to your false God for divine intervention. He won't answer your prayers, he's a bad guy. I don't like bad guys.."

I AM
THE BAD GUY

that motha fuggin boogey man

AND I'M
BACK AGAIN

ahhhhhhhhhhhh!

"The senses now heighten, intense fluctuations of fuggin smell and sight betray your bitch self causing you to slip up while mumbling more incoherent mumbo jumbo of being relevant, or maybe too coherent? Shit did I just describe myself? What the fuck was I even saying? All the while that ass of yours be proving otherwise to all of us. You'll reveal your own motha fuggin short comings, that which after Sunday yo ass can never again deny. Slowly you'll begin to lose your weak ass grip as you find it to be true, I have no soul, and you're drop dead in the middle of a war you one hundred percent will never win. You'll be trapped above a ring covered in fire, looking across at your daddy who don't give a fugg about this life or anything offered from it wrapped up in some bullshit glamour to conceal the dirty penis that fucks you. Brandon Moore is just here for the simple fact that because he could find no other people for killing time, he went and.." 

FOUND TIME FOR
KILLING PEOPLE!

here's the shovel, dig that grave punk

"HOLY SHIT! I'm just getting started motha fugga! The kiddie gloves are now off Shane, and you're bare knuckle boxing with a God suffering from an unquenchable thirst for destruction. Your got damn face is the canvas upon which these hands will draw upon, teeth and flesh littering the area beneath our feet. And ain't it sweet knowing long before it ever happens that you're in the midst of an embarrassing defeat at the hands of a worthless piece of shit heroin addict? You've been at this shit for fuggin ever my dude, honing your craft and competing for all the years that I was away from the business, and you only barely scrape by against me? Talk about pathetic bruh. I show back up after a long retirement where I beat you and that fat fuck partner of yours while being forced to drag that bitch ass fuggin Morbid Wolf along for the ride. And then with me applying a very minuscule amount of effort while challenging for the XCore Championship you barely escape with the dubya.."

ARE YOU
FRIGGIN KIDDING ME!?

sigh.. just.. sigh..

"And in your heart you know that statement is nothing but thee got damn truth. I have massacred the very best this business has ever fuggin witnessed and you think I am gonna lose to your ass just like that? Don't ever kid yourself bitch, you know where you stand in the hierarchy of your peers and you've been punching above your weight class for far too hopelessly long. Now I am coming to take MY CHAMPIONSHIP and putting it around the waist of a got damn real motha fuggin BEAST. . Now we will find out just how much of a warrior you really is my dude, and how far yo ass is willing to push the boundaries of the human condition. Are you capable to go the distance with yours truly here, week in, week out, with sun up and sun down? Can you sit there and shove your guts back up in your fuggin asshole after you push me out from straining too got damn hard? Shhhiiit, I guess we will just have to see ya lil bitch, but please forgive me for still being highly suspect. I mean, heh, anybody can beat a junkie, yano what I’m saying? No, no, the more important question would be..”

BUT CAN HE
DO IT TWICE?

HA! i doubt it

"I am going to push your limits of pain tolerance, smashing your back and head with steel chair after steel chair shot. Breaking you in half through tables and any other structure which stands in our area. My chrome ball bat is ready to swing your life away, hitting the home run ball each and every single fuggin time it pings against your ridiculous melon. For every word you've ever spoken is a slow pitch just waiting to be slugged. The carnage that awaits you at Cold Front has never before been seen in a wrestling ring, and you're the lucky son of a bitch who gets to be the recipient. You're now a legend in the making by yours fuggin truly, and you'll be on hands and knees blessing me as always, showing your daddy your gratefulness. The grace which I bestow upon you in bloodshed is the sweetest gift you will ever be given in this mundane existence you so reluctantly carry on with. But this time I am sorry to inform you that the outcome has changed, for the game is no longer rigged in your stupid favor. The closing act will be a new one this time around, as you Overdose and lay on your back absolutely annihilated and defeated. You're going to be completely broken into miserable pieces that no longer can be reconfigured into looking decent. My victory over you is twofold as I crush your spirit and rip that XCore Championship from around your waist, placing it over the shoulder of it's rightful owner. Your shame comes from the fact that you believe so hard in yourself that a loss was unfathomable to you. And yet this is the destination your life has taken, and you'll fall down, betrayed by your own ego, your hubris. It is beautiful, the fallacy of which you live in the present. Wanting so badly to be something more than a sniveling little punk bitch who stepped into the wrong battlefield, playing the wrong game, and characterizing something of which you just simply are not. But do not worry Shane, for.."

SOME DAY YOU
CAN BE LIKE ME

break the laws of sanity

"See you at Cold Front "friend".."

COMMERCIAL BREAK

B. Moore: “Living with genital herpes can be a fuggin hassle y’all..”

Brandon Moore stands at the beach on a sunny day, his bare feet digging into the sand, and the nice breeze drifting off of the top of the ocean bristles against his face. He raises his arms up basking in the glory bestowed upon him on such a wonderful day. A truly, truly wonderful day to be alive. (The scene cuts to Brandon stalking a woman walking on the beach alone from the tree line. He watches her every carefully placed step as she drags the tips of her toes along the grains of sand.)

B. Moore : “Whenever my ass had an outbreak.. it felt like it took fuggin days outta my got damn life..It felt like I had become Shane Sparx.”

The scene changes to Brandon Moore walking and talking with a woman, laughter can be seen as they share a conversation. (The scene cuts to Brandon shoving a rag drenched in chloroform against this bitches face. He holds her close and tight as she succumbs to the intoxicating effects and he takes her down to the sand. Brandon looks all around to ensure nobody has seen his sociopathic ways..)

B. Moore : “Shit felt like I was all out of hope, but then I talked to my doc about Valtrex..”

We now see Brandon and the woman cuddling on the couch, he looks at the camera grinning and winks. (The scene cuts to the woman chained up in a cellar with a piece of paper with Shane Sparx face covering hers, clothes ripped off and severe lacerations covering her body in entirety. Brandon stands behind her with a snake whip in hand, he cracks it against her exposed flesh. A daunting grin is on his face, eyes roll to the back of his head with each slap of the material tearing into the whores skin.)

B. Moore : “Just one little ass pill a day can help reduce the number of my outbreaks.”

AVAILABLE BY
PRESCRIPTION ONLY

Brandon Moore is sitting alone in an office chair of some sort smiling, and smoking the fattest of all fat blunts. (A woman screaming is faint in the background, her cries for help ignored by seemingly everyone, including you viewers at home. You sick, twisted freaks. The lot of ya. Nobody ever does anything to help these women. These victims. What the fuck is wrong with all of you?)

B. Moore : “And now I have been outbreak free for about a motha fuggin year y’all!”

INDIVIDUAL RESULTS
MAY VARY

Voice over : “In a one year clinical study among people with genital herpes who took Valtrex, at six months over half were outbreak free. After one year a third were outbreak free. Shane Sparx still suffers though. There is no cure for you.”

Brandon is back on the beach with his partner riding piggy on his back, and he's staring straight into the camera. A sadistic smile still planted on his face. (The scene switches to Brandon as he has the bitch tied to a chair. The whores in pain, bleeding all every where n shit. Still with the Shane Sparx paper mask. He flicks the syringe full of heroin to get the bubbles to move to the needle which he then squirts out. Brandon sticks the tip in her fuggin flesh, hitting the vein in stride. He pulls back the plunger stick to register blood and fire away. The whore no longer makes a peep, feeling comfortably numb.)

B. Moore : “Now my days are right where they belong fellas.”

IT’S A
BRAND NEW DAY

Voiceover : “There is no cure for herpes. Even with treatment it is still possible to spread herpes. Valtrex may not stop all re-occurrences. To avoid a potentially serious complication tell your doctor if your immune system is not normal because of bone marrow or kidney transplant or if you have advanced HIV disease. Also tell your doctor if you've had any sexual interactions with Shane Sparx, as we have still yet to determine what that bacterial infection is.”

Brandon Moore looks out in a grassy field, children rummaging and chasing butterflies while he laughs with his partner. (The bitch has a whole galaxy of uppers, downers, laughers and screamers coursing through her bloodstream making her a docile dog. She jumps at her masters command, answers his beck and call. Brandon has completely broken this whore as she is clearly suffering from Stockholm Syndrome. But yet, here we are, watching this shit play out before our very eyes. You all should be ashamed of yourselves. How many of you are hard right now? Fuggin nasty mother fuckers.)

SEE YOUR HEALTHCARE PROVIDER FOR PRODUCT INFORMATION

Voice over : “Common side effects may include headache, nausea, abdominal pain, and feeling like Shane Sparx.”

Brandon Moore is shown hugging the woman and children, staring directly at the camera again the entire time, still with that disgusting grin showcased on his phenomenal mug. (The scene switches to Brandon playing some sick game of charades with the whore as the children are locked in cages, the sight grotesque to our viewers. The world slowly falls into a decaying image being ripped away by a force unseen, a chilling laughter overtaking the audio as time completely comes to a halt. The disfigured image remains of Brandon Moore holding his arms stretched out wide, the shining light from the heavens beaming down as he becomes one with the unholy display of love and affection. The camera zooms in as Brandon turns to the camera, smirk on his face.)

B. Moore : “Ask your doctor if daily Valtrex is right for you. My days are how I fuggin want them. And ain’t shit better than that.”

IT’S A
BRAND NEW DAY

AND WE ARE BACK

Momma said knock me out? Yo momma didn’t say shit bitch, she’s dead. Or at least she will be when she’s done giving Johnny Stylez head. AHHHH. And boy was she ever giving out the ole slurp and burb to ya boys in Defiance, much in the same way as when that no good sleazy vagina wart Anicka Swan gave Roger the real challenger dodger the herp. Now that clown just walks around all day saying his cock hurts. Yikes! I got away from myself there fellas, my bad. But I remember the shit clear as day as if it were yesterday. It was the day before Ignite in Las Vegas two weeks ago. Do you remember Shane.. the night when we stole the whole fuggin show and I GAVE YOU the win? You’re welcome. Now you all are about to find out why motha fuggas! So sit down right on over yonder my friends, kick your feet up and recline in yo chairs.

It’s story time y’all.

But anyway, I had went by to see momma Sparx cuz I’m like a gentlemen ‘n all that shit. And when I got there, you know it was all cool ‘n shit. Momma Sparx was all like, “Please come inside dear and let’s have a chat about my boy.” So I was all like, “Damn bitch I just came over for some milk n’ cookies and yo ass wanna talk about some bullllshit!” We sat down at the kitchen table, milk and cookies in hand. WHAT BITCH? SAY SOMETHIN! So momma Sparx started crying like a fuggin baby my dudes. This broad totally blew up straight outta no damn where. Like whoa cunt, chill the hell out yo! She was all kinds of fucked up screaming n shit, “DON’T HURT MY BABY! PLEASE BRANDON! PLEASE!”

PIMP HAND!

I had to check the bitch, you know what I’m sayin Shane?

Anyway, so she was hysterical right? With a big red ass hand print across her damn face, and the fuggin old ass hoe was still all pleadin while she was bleedin, “PLEASE DON’T HURT MY BABY AND TAKE HIS TITLE! IT’S ALL HE HAS IN THIS WORLD!” And I was like, “Say, WHAAAAA?” This bitch was straight up trying to stop me from beating up her son. “Is this some kind of joke?” I thought to myself. Shit I mean, I just smashed the cookies and drank the milk, about time for me to get the fuck on up outta here. Well that was my thought anyway until momma Sparx was like, “PLEASE! I’LL DO ANYTHING! HE REALLY NEEDS THIS VICTORY TO LEGITIMIZE HIS CHAMPIONSHIP REIGN!”

Did this bitch just say...

ANYTHING!?

Anything!

ALLLLL ABBOOOOAAARRRDD

the Defiance train! 

Shit, so you know I pulled out my phone right? I dialed up that no good down and dirty wretched scum bag, ah my favorite, y’all know as LA Johnny Stylez and I was like, “AYE! Grab up Tommy and that freak ass Hazard and get yo asses over here bruh!!!” Johnny was like, “YO B, WHY!? WHERE YO ASS AT!?” And I was like, “Momma Sparx house fella! CHOO CHOOO!” Johnny didn’t even respond my dudes, his ass just hung up that phone without the slightest bit of hesitation and got on with carrying out the mission. I just stood up and threw momma on top of her got damn kitchen table and pulled her pants down exposing them fat ass butt cheeks.

SMACK!

SMACK!

SMACK!

 

So I was just straight spanking this bitch, kinda similar to how I’m gonna spank Shane at Coldfront, and this dirty whore mother of his was straight LOVIN it. I was fuggin shocked, like damn bitch where your cougar ass been hiding out at? Now I won’t get too descriptive with this shit but like, l whipped that thang out and was treated like a got damn lolli lolli. Eyes all rollin in the back of my head n shit. That shit continued for what seemed like a lifetime my dudes. Johnny had showed up in the mean time wit the Brazzers crew along with Tommy, Hazard and Blair. Ya boy offered up a piece to the rest of em but eh, ya dude forgot Johnny and Blair were a happily married couple and the rest of em were too scared to get down wit the Despised One. Well, Hazard was down but this bitch took one look at the grotesque mountain man and said “No thanks!” I had to slap er in the mouth for that one, the Hazard bastard is a friggin GOD in my eyes, the true overlord of XCore. Well, until I take my rightful place up high, but anyway, we got to work setting up the lights n all that shit. 

ACTION! 

Fuggin Tommy busted out a strobe light and snow machine, trying to add some type of special effects n shit. We were getting blasted with some fake ass snow and my ass about had a damn seizure from the blinking of the light. Tommy, bruh, what the fugg you thinkin dawg? GET OUTTA HERE! Johnny slapped the strobe out his got damn hands and kicked the snow machine over. Tommy shrugged and went back talking to GOAT. I went about laying down the business on this overzealous and eager hoe my friends. This bitch was loving every inch and second of it my dudes. The squeal of this slut when I popped it in er ass was something spectacular. I can’t even explain it man, just something truly wonderful to the ears. I was putting in some serious fuggin work and she was all like, “HARDER! DON’T BE A LITTLE BITCH!” And I was like, “Jesus fuggin Christ, I’m giving er all she’s got!” And the bitch fuggin slaps me.

GASP

Everything and body stood still and fell silent as I shoved the bitch away from me, a red hue overcoming my sight. The anger swelling up inside of me as the other guy was ripping away the controls from my mental state. Johnny was all like, "Aye nah B, don't do it man." I shot a glance at him, seeing the look upon my mug he just started shaking his head and getting everybody to start wrapping up. Suddenly the front door opens and Momma Sparx walks into the home carrying groceries. "WHAT THE FUCK ARE YOU DOING IN MY HOUSE!?" She screamed. I was shocked. I looked at the bitch before me, looked over at Momma Sparx, looked back again. "SUE I LEAVE YOU IN MY HOUSE FOR TWO HOURS AND I COME HOME TO FIND YOU FUCKING YOUR NEPHEWS FRIENDS!?" Oh shit son, my ass completely forgot Shane's mom had a fuggin identical twin sister. Johnny and the crew straight dipped the fuck outta there. Poor Sue had no idea how close she came to feeling the cold steel slither across the skin of her throat. Oh so close, but the real Momma Sparx saved her ass. Momma tried to whoop my ass as I was pulling up my pants n shit all like, "Got damnit Brandon you get outta here right now!" I was just in shock man, like, do I keep my end of the bargain anyway? I mean, in retrospect I did so that is a moot point.

As I reflect now, I shouldn't have taken it easy on your bitch ass Shane. I shouldn't have underestimated yo ass and approached you as a lesser man. But you are a lesser man, that's what makes this so hard to wrap my brain around. When did you begin to approach a level I had never seen from you before? And why was that level still minuscule in comparison to the greatness here before you now? There are just so many questions with so little time for answers. The gist of the whole shabang is the fact that I am coming for real this time. I am coming to beat that fuggin ass. There ain't shit you can do to try and prevent it. I mean, sure, you can train really hard and get that comedic routine in tip top shape, but at the end of the day you will always pale in comparison to the Despised One. Your XCore title reign has endured for longer than anyone could have estimated, and it's almost sad to see it have to come to a screeching halt this week. But that's just the way the shits gotta be bruh. One day you will come to grips with the reality of the situation, and one day you will understand your place. You will know your place. And you will get in your place, and hopefully that ass will be smart enough to stay there. But if that ass ain't smart enough, then I am always ready for round three motha fugga. And if by some type of fuggin miracle you are able to best me one more time, then I'll just be coming back again bruh. That's what I don't think you're quite understanding here my dude. I am the virus that never goes away, like HIV. I'll always be inside you, slowly tearing away at everything you are until you resemble only a shadow of your former self. Cold Front is now the battle field, in the trenches is where yo ass will find me, waging war. Killing, mangling, torturing and surviving, because that's just what I do. So beautiful is the sight you are about to witness, standing on one side of the field. You'll look across and see a sight you aren't familiar with. It will not be Brandon Moore coming to reap your XCore Championship.

Galactus approaches.