Post by freak on Dec 10, 2008 1:09:02 GMT -6
Jack Clinton is sitting at home, watching what Andrew Smith had to say. He turns off the TV and takes a look square into the camera.
This message is for every single person involved in the first blood battle royal. Whether you want to admit it or not, none of you matter in this match. That's right, you heard me correctly. You might as well not bother showing up. Don't even bother cutting a promo, don't even buy a plane ticket to the arena. It's all going to be for naught once I step inside the ring. None of you- I repeat, NONE OF YOU- are going to beat me.
I know what you're thinking. You're thinking that I just made my point, right? That I'm just going to walk away now, right? Oh, no. It ain't even gonna be close to over yet. I'm not done talkin', and you're all gonna sit there and listen to ever Goddamn word that comes out of my mouth between now and whenever the hell I feel like I'm done, understood?
Let me reiterate the point I made at the beginning. Regardless of what many of you may think, regardless of what many of you may say, there is little to no chance that any of you are going to beat me. Just ponder that for a few seconds. I know that you really can't, considering that the collective intelligence in the ring later on will be equal to that of a soap dish, but just imagine what's going to happen.
I said that I was on a mission from the minute that I came to this company. And when I beat Xavier Cross at Guys' Night Out part one of the mission was complete- win my first match. And now, here I am two steps away from holding the second most valuable championship in this company. And as I said, I don't care what I have to do to get through or who I have to go through. You're in the ring with me, you're in the way, you're a target. Man or woman, heavyweight or cruiserweight, midget or Andre the Giant, it don't make any difference.
A lot of you idiots are just sitting here watching this and are just going to dismiss it like you've all heard what I've had to say before. You haven't. In fact, you haven't even begun to hear the beginning of the story. The story starts with me, Jack Clinton, joining SNW. And the story ends whenever I leave. It's up to all of you to shape it in the direction you want it to go...and quite frankly none of you here can do it.
Especially not a guy like Andrew Smith, who doesn't even want to acknowledge that I'm in the damn match in the first place, and that automatically makes me the favorite in it. That's right, Andrew. Your little crybaby speech told me all I need to know about where you stand. And if there's one thing that I REALLY don't like, it's a bunch of condescending crybabies trying to pretend that I don't exist. That I don't matter. That the only reason why I'm here is to collect a paycheck. And that is why I'm going to make it a personal mission of mine to make sure that Andrew Smith does not bother making it to the next level.
I ain't gonna be crying, I ain't gonna be bitching. I'm out for one person and one person alone. Jack Clinton. And as such, I'm my own best friend and my own closest ally. I don't deal in whining, I don't deal in bitching. I deal in what makes Jack Clinton better. And when I start to deal, where are you gonna go? What are you gonna do?
This ain't over...it's just beginning.
Oh, and by the way, to the idiots who were chanting at the end of my match last week...you're right. I ain't some no-talent hack who got more chances than he deserved. At least I got a world title in my career. What the hell has he ever done?
Fade to black.
This message is for every single person involved in the first blood battle royal. Whether you want to admit it or not, none of you matter in this match. That's right, you heard me correctly. You might as well not bother showing up. Don't even bother cutting a promo, don't even buy a plane ticket to the arena. It's all going to be for naught once I step inside the ring. None of you- I repeat, NONE OF YOU- are going to beat me.
I know what you're thinking. You're thinking that I just made my point, right? That I'm just going to walk away now, right? Oh, no. It ain't even gonna be close to over yet. I'm not done talkin', and you're all gonna sit there and listen to ever Goddamn word that comes out of my mouth between now and whenever the hell I feel like I'm done, understood?
Let me reiterate the point I made at the beginning. Regardless of what many of you may think, regardless of what many of you may say, there is little to no chance that any of you are going to beat me. Just ponder that for a few seconds. I know that you really can't, considering that the collective intelligence in the ring later on will be equal to that of a soap dish, but just imagine what's going to happen.
I said that I was on a mission from the minute that I came to this company. And when I beat Xavier Cross at Guys' Night Out part one of the mission was complete- win my first match. And now, here I am two steps away from holding the second most valuable championship in this company. And as I said, I don't care what I have to do to get through or who I have to go through. You're in the ring with me, you're in the way, you're a target. Man or woman, heavyweight or cruiserweight, midget or Andre the Giant, it don't make any difference.
A lot of you idiots are just sitting here watching this and are just going to dismiss it like you've all heard what I've had to say before. You haven't. In fact, you haven't even begun to hear the beginning of the story. The story starts with me, Jack Clinton, joining SNW. And the story ends whenever I leave. It's up to all of you to shape it in the direction you want it to go...and quite frankly none of you here can do it.
Especially not a guy like Andrew Smith, who doesn't even want to acknowledge that I'm in the damn match in the first place, and that automatically makes me the favorite in it. That's right, Andrew. Your little crybaby speech told me all I need to know about where you stand. And if there's one thing that I REALLY don't like, it's a bunch of condescending crybabies trying to pretend that I don't exist. That I don't matter. That the only reason why I'm here is to collect a paycheck. And that is why I'm going to make it a personal mission of mine to make sure that Andrew Smith does not bother making it to the next level.
I ain't gonna be crying, I ain't gonna be bitching. I'm out for one person and one person alone. Jack Clinton. And as such, I'm my own best friend and my own closest ally. I don't deal in whining, I don't deal in bitching. I deal in what makes Jack Clinton better. And when I start to deal, where are you gonna go? What are you gonna do?
This ain't over...it's just beginning.
Oh, and by the way, to the idiots who were chanting at the end of my match last week...you're right. I ain't some no-talent hack who got more chances than he deserved. At least I got a world title in my career. What the hell has he ever done?
Fade to black.
