Post by freak on Aug 19, 2010 21:55:41 GMT -6
Before Chris P. went down to the Enforcers of Pain locker room to talk with S.T. Strickler and Benson, he left this video concerning what Hellspawn said.
Naive, stupid Hellspawn. More concerned over the man I picked to defend my back just in case one of those psychotic nutcases actually does decide to make good on those threats. Here's a hint, Hellspawn. No one is going to waste the time on you because you're not worth the effort to kill. If you were somehow murdered tomorrow, not a single soul would care. Me? I haven't been abandoned by everyone that mattered to me. Ergo, that means my life is worth more than yours. If I died it would be equivalent to the Pope dying. If you died it would be equivalent to a wino freezing to death on a New York City street in the wintertime...an all too common occurrence that no one cares about.
It's nice to see that Chigurh operates more of your time than I do. Let me reiterate this simple point, Hellspawn...I don't need him to fight my battles for me. When you step in the ring this Saturday night Chigurh is not going to be in there. I am. As a matter of fact, I'll do you one better. As soon as I get done with my errands here I'm gonna send him back to the hotel and have him wait until I get back. Since you're so convinced that I can't win a match without him I'm gonna show you just how wrong you are. I'm gonna leave your obsession at home and let you deal with the cold reality of what you're facing...me, Chris P., and no one else.
I don't think you're afraid of me. I think you should be, but I understand why you're not. Because you want to make yourself seem less like the emasculated man you've become and more like the Hellspawn that once had the entire wrestling world in the palm of his hand. The Hellspawn that dominated everywhere he was. You want everyone to see that Hellspawn and not the one who had his kid taken away from him and who is put to bed every night by a man who has no moral compass and a woman who couldn't stand to be with you anymore. The same child that's going to laugh and cheer for me in the ring Saturday night. He's going to see his daddy be the failure that he always shows himself to be.
I want you to keep thinking that I'm just another one of the many clones you've faced over your career. Just keep right on thinking that if it works for you. It doesn't bother me a bit. It just motivates me that much more to take you out. I'm better than every single wrestler you've ever faced in any company. It's a reality that you must start to accept. You're going to lose and it's going to be quick, painful, and embarrassing for you.
You claim that being a hardcore wrestler didn't make you famous. That your own wrestling abilities did. Well, Hellspawn, I've wrestled with you in several companies over a period of about six years and I've never seen anything out of you resembling anything close to discernible wrestling ability. Meanwhile, I've been on top of the world nine times in various companies. What does that mean? I've wrestled the best and I've beaten the best at their own games. You? You're the equivalent of a guy Goldberg would wrestle on WCW Worldwide just so he could get on TV and lose. You're nothing special, never have been.
But keep on holding on to that little notion that you somehow are going to beat me in the center of the ring without any sort of hardcore style help. I'll remember that when I come off the top rope and drive my elbow through your ribcage, fracturing every single bone protecting your lungs. I'll remember that when I have you in the crossface chickenwing in the middle of the ring, stretching and tearing every tendon in your neck, shoulder, and arms. And I'll remember that when I stand up after you tap out like the miserable piece of toe jam you are, with my arms raised in victory over yet another inferior opponent.
I'll remember...will you?
FTB.
Naive, stupid Hellspawn. More concerned over the man I picked to defend my back just in case one of those psychotic nutcases actually does decide to make good on those threats. Here's a hint, Hellspawn. No one is going to waste the time on you because you're not worth the effort to kill. If you were somehow murdered tomorrow, not a single soul would care. Me? I haven't been abandoned by everyone that mattered to me. Ergo, that means my life is worth more than yours. If I died it would be equivalent to the Pope dying. If you died it would be equivalent to a wino freezing to death on a New York City street in the wintertime...an all too common occurrence that no one cares about.
It's nice to see that Chigurh operates more of your time than I do. Let me reiterate this simple point, Hellspawn...I don't need him to fight my battles for me. When you step in the ring this Saturday night Chigurh is not going to be in there. I am. As a matter of fact, I'll do you one better. As soon as I get done with my errands here I'm gonna send him back to the hotel and have him wait until I get back. Since you're so convinced that I can't win a match without him I'm gonna show you just how wrong you are. I'm gonna leave your obsession at home and let you deal with the cold reality of what you're facing...me, Chris P., and no one else.
I don't think you're afraid of me. I think you should be, but I understand why you're not. Because you want to make yourself seem less like the emasculated man you've become and more like the Hellspawn that once had the entire wrestling world in the palm of his hand. The Hellspawn that dominated everywhere he was. You want everyone to see that Hellspawn and not the one who had his kid taken away from him and who is put to bed every night by a man who has no moral compass and a woman who couldn't stand to be with you anymore. The same child that's going to laugh and cheer for me in the ring Saturday night. He's going to see his daddy be the failure that he always shows himself to be.
I want you to keep thinking that I'm just another one of the many clones you've faced over your career. Just keep right on thinking that if it works for you. It doesn't bother me a bit. It just motivates me that much more to take you out. I'm better than every single wrestler you've ever faced in any company. It's a reality that you must start to accept. You're going to lose and it's going to be quick, painful, and embarrassing for you.
You claim that being a hardcore wrestler didn't make you famous. That your own wrestling abilities did. Well, Hellspawn, I've wrestled with you in several companies over a period of about six years and I've never seen anything out of you resembling anything close to discernible wrestling ability. Meanwhile, I've been on top of the world nine times in various companies. What does that mean? I've wrestled the best and I've beaten the best at their own games. You? You're the equivalent of a guy Goldberg would wrestle on WCW Worldwide just so he could get on TV and lose. You're nothing special, never have been.
But keep on holding on to that little notion that you somehow are going to beat me in the center of the ring without any sort of hardcore style help. I'll remember that when I come off the top rope and drive my elbow through your ribcage, fracturing every single bone protecting your lungs. I'll remember that when I have you in the crossface chickenwing in the middle of the ring, stretching and tearing every tendon in your neck, shoulder, and arms. And I'll remember that when I stand up after you tap out like the miserable piece of toe jam you are, with my arms raised in victory over yet another inferior opponent.
I'll remember...will you?
FTB.
