Game Over? Part 2

------------------------------May 25th, 2011------------------------------------

Brandon opened his eyes. He looked around. Where was he? His body was sore all over. He couldn't remember anything. He thought hard. The last thing he remembered was going to the beach with Anna. They walked and talked for a while. What next? Brandon tried to remember. Suddenly, it all came back to him. The dealer, the heroin, Anna's break up. But his memories stopped there. His head hurt, more than it had in a while. He felt his face. His mask was still on. He looked around. He was in a jail cell.

Guard: "Look who's finally awake"

Brandon wheeled his head around, and immediately regretted doing so. His head began to spin, and he fell to his knees.

Guard: "Bit of a hangover, don't we?"

Brandon: "Where the fuck am I?"

Guard: "You don't remember do you?"

Brandon: "Dude, I have no fucking idea"

Guard: "Lets go through a laundry list shall we? You stole a car, after stumbling into the middle of traffic. You showed up to a UFC press conference hammered. You assaulted Dana White. You appeared on national television drunk. You charged reporters. Authorities finally caught up to you, and you proceeded to attack all of them. You knocked out five cops. The only reason they were able to get you is because you passed out."

Brandon: "I honestly don't remember a single thing that you just said"

Guard: "We talked to the bartender at the bar you went to. You downed fifteen straight shots. Then went into the bathroom, and came out a few minutes later. Police found an empty baggie in your sock. What were you thinking?"

Brandon: "I don't know. You tell me"

Guard: "I don't know either. I just know they brought your unconscious body into my cell. About six officers, most looked beaten up. I'm sure that was you, but you probably don't remember"

Brandon: "Not at all"

Guard: "Well, that sucks. They are pressing a shitload of charges. You better have a good lawyer"

Brandon: "I do. Well, I will get one. Can I post my own bail?"

Guard: "No. But we've informed family members, who can post it for you"

Brandon: "Fuck"

Guard: "What?"

Brandon: "You told my family"

Guard: "One of those guys?"

Brandon: "My family and I don't exactly get along"

Guard: "I wonder why"

Brandon: "Don't play with me dude. I am shaking. I need to get out of here"

Guard: "Miss your medication?"

Brandon: "Yeah....something like that"

Guard: "Hold on, I'm being called up front"

Brandon watched as the guard walked around the corner and out of sight. Brandon stood up and walked over towards the toilet. He immediately began to puke into it. He leaned over the toilet and took deep breaths. His whole body was shaking. This was the biggest withdrawal he had ever felt. He puked another time into the toilet as the guard came back

Guard: "Good news....great"

Brandon leaned up from the toilet and looked at the guard. He wiped his mouth and flushed the toilet.

Brandon: "I'm good. What's the news?"

Guard: "Your bails been posted. You'll get a call soon about charges and trials and such"

Brandon got to his feet and walked towards the cell door. The guard opened it, and Brandon followed him towards a countertop, with glass protecting the woman behind it.

WoMan: "Sign here please"

Brandon leaned down and signed the paper. She ripped off a copy and gave it to him. Brandon shoved it into his pocket. He turned around and walked outside. He turned to his left and saw his brother and Keagan standing beside a car. Brandon began to walk towards them as they got into the car. Brandon slid into the backseat.

Brandon: "Can you guys take me home please"

James: "Brandon, what the fuck?"

Brandon: "Just take me home"

James: "How did you end up in jail?"

Brandon: "Good question"

Keagan: "Brandon, where is Anna?"

Brandon: "No idea. She left"

Keagan: "Left like, left for something? Or like, left left?"

Brandon: "Beats me"

Keagan: "You don't know if your wife left you?"

Brandon: "I forget"

James: "Brandon, how fucking high are you?"

Brandon: "Not at all, which is the problem. I'm withdrawing like mad. I need my fix so if you could just hurry it up a little bit please"

James: "Brandon, what the hell is wrong with you?"

Brandon: "What's your problem dude? Get off my ass"

James: "You're falling apart dude."

Brandon: "So you're against me too then"

Keagan: "Brandon, what are you talking about?"

Brandon: "Everyone hates me. My family hates me, my so called friends hate me, Anna hates me, even you guys hate me"

Keagan: "Brandon, no one hates you. We're just worried about you"

Brandon: "Why worry about me? I'm fucking fine"

Keagan: "Your drug use has spun a bit out of control."

Brandon: "This is what I mean. You guys can't just let me fucking live my own damn life. You know nothing about what I do, and so why the fuck do you think that you can just stomp all over anything?"

Keagan: "Brandon, we're your family. We just want to help you"

Brandon: "What the fuck gives you the right?! You think I need fucking help!"

James: "Brandon, what did you do yesterday?"

Brandon: "I can't remember"

James: "Exactly. You need help"

Brandon: "Shut the fuck up James. You're lucky I ever introduced you to your fuck buddy Keagan here. What would you do if I didn't? Keep on fucking drunk chicks and then leaving them the next morning?!"

James: "Brandon, shut up now"

Brandon: "And what about you Keagan, you fucking slut. What if I never came to take you away from porn eh? You'd still be fucking dude's with giant dicks every day. You both owe me so fucking much!"

The car pulled over to a complete stop. James got out of the car and threw open the back door. He grabbed Brandon and pulled him out of the car and threw him onto the street.

Keagan: "James stop!"

Brandon felt himself being tackled to the ground by James. He landed hard on the pavement, and tried to escape from James' grasp.

James: "You need to watch your fucking mouth around my girlfriend!"

Brandon quickly kicked his legs out, knocking James off balance. He flipped over, and landed on top of James. He punched him hard in the face. He felt himself being tackled off of James by Keagan, who threw all of her weight at him.

Keagan: "Stop it, both of you!"

Brandon stood up and looked at James, who wiped blood from his nose.

Keagan: "You guys are brothers. Why the hell are you fighting?"

Brandon just stared at James.

James: "Take your stupid fucking mask off and look at me"

Brandon: "You'd like that, wouldn't you?"

Keagan: "Enough, both of you!"

James: "I'm done with this. Brandon, get some help. You need it"

Brandon: "Speaking of help. Remember how I assisted you in a win over Tim Patrick a few weeks ago?"

James: "What about it?"

Brandon: "You still owe me one"

James: "Fuck you"

Brandon: "Yeah, whatever James. You have to do it"

James: "Or what? You'll beat me up?"

Brandon: "I'll go tell that angry porn director exactly where his star who is still under contract with him is hiding. Would you like that?"

Keagan: "You wouldn't"

Brandon: "Are you doubting me?"

James: "You're fucking blackmailing me to help you?"

Brandon: "Sure am. Problem?"

James: "Fuck you Brandon. I'm your fucking brother. Keagan is your best friend! Or did you forget that too, you drugged up shit?"

Keagan: "Brandon, please tell me your joking"

Brandon: "If James helps me then everything will be okay. If not, well, sorry Keagan, but you're fucked"

Keagan: "You need serious help Brandon. As your best friend, I'm telling you that now. Get help"

Brandon: "Best friend? Don't make me laugh"

Keagan: "I've known you for twenty three years. I think I know a little bit about you"

Brandon: "If you say so Keagan."

Keagan: "Get help. Please. I'm begging you. Can't you see that your life is spiralling out of control? You're literally going to die one of these days. Is that what you want? To die alone?"

Brandon: "I'm done talking to you bitch. Get the fuck out"

Keagan wiped a tear from her eye. She walked over to Brandon, and hugged him, and gave him a kiss on the cheek of his mask. Brandon stared straight ahead.

Keagan: "Goodbye Brandon. It was nice knowing you"

Brandon: "Nice twenty three years we had"

Keagan turned around and walked over to the car, giving one sad look at Brandon. She shook her head at him, and climbed into the car. James looked at him through the mirror, and flipped him off, before speeding off.

Brandon turned around and began to walk down the road. He looked down some alleyways. He was still shaking insanely. He saw a man down in an alleyway, and quickly walked down it towards him. He slowly approached the man.

Man: "Can I help you?"

Brandon: "You got any Hero?"

Man: "Depends on who's asking?"

Brandon: "I'm a friend of Mikey"

Man: "You're Brandon Macdonald aren't you?"

Brandon: "Yeah, keep it down a bit though please"

Man: "Dude, you're fucked"

Brandon: "What do you mean?"

Man: "You shouldn't have come here"

Brandon: "Explain old man"

Man: "First off, I'm probably younger than you. Secondly, you pissed of Mikey pretty royally when you punched him yesterday. I hear he's out to get you"

Brandon: "Tell him to bring it the fuck on"

Man: "Dude, I'd be a little more worried if I were you"

Brandon: "It's good dude. Don't worry about me. Just give me some stuff"

Man: "Alright, if you say so."

The man handed Brandon a small baggie of heroin powder. He handed the man some money, and quickly stuck his finger in the bag, and snorted some off of it. He began to walk away from the dealer, towards the street.

He turned onto the sidewalk, and began to walk towards the general area of his Miami home. He was walking past an alleyway, when he heard a voice coming from an alleyway.

Voice: "Psst. Dude"

Brandon turned and saw a shadowy figure in the alleyway. He stopped walking.

Voice: "Wanna see something crazy?"

The figure walked into a doorway in the alleyway. Brandon looked around the street. He shrugged his shoulders and followed the man into the alleyway. He found the door and slowly opened it. He walked inside.

Immediately and suddenly, he felt immense pain in the back of his knees. He fell to the ground, and felt another pain in his head. He looked around, and saw a few men walking up to him, with guns pointed at his head.

Mikey: "So, Brandon. You try disrespecting me?"

Brandon: "What the fuck Mikey?"

Mikey: "You trying to ruin my fucking business, huh?!"

Mikey smacked Brandon in the head with his pistol. Brandon fell to the ground. This was just like Iraq all over again. Kneeling in front of men he didn't know, and all those men holding guns to him. A man he thought he could trust turning on him. General Smith, and now Mikey. This was proof. The world hated him. God hated him. God was determined to end Brandon. But he knew he was stronger than that. He would survive, and spit right in God's face.

Mikey: "Next time I tell you to sell, you sell. Capiche?"

Brandon: "Yeah, sure whatever"

Mikey: "Oh wait. I almost forgot something"

Mikey lowered his gun and placed it right in between Brandon's eyeholes. Brandon stared straight ahead.

Mikey: "There won't be a next time"

Brandon: "The fuck is wrong with you?"

Mikey: "First you ruin my business. Then you embarrass me in front of the world with that punch. Now, I'm going to get a matter of revenge. Sound even?"

Brandon: "Punch to the jaw. Kill me. Yeah, pretty fair."

Mikey: "Too bad Anna isn't here to see this. Oh wait. That's right. You ruined that little marriage, didn't you?"

Brandon: "You ruined it you fucking asshole"

Mikey laughed. The men around him laughed with him.

Mikey: "You wish. You fucked up that marriage, not me. But none of that matters anymore, because I'm going to kill you"

Brandon kept his eyes straight ahead. Strangely, he didn't feel too upset. He knew this was coming. God hated him, he wanted Brandon out of this world. Brandon knew it. Nobody cared about him, it's not like anyone would miss him. No one understood Brandon anymore, and he knew it.

Mikey: "Goodbye Brandon"

Brandon waited for the shot and sure death.

But it never came. Instead, he heard a smash, and some loud noises. He quickly jumped up, grabbed Mikey's gun, twisted it out of his hand, and smashed it over his head, knocking him unconscious. He ran over to another man, and tackled him to the ground. He picked him up, and tossed him out of a window. He turned around and head kicked another guy right in the face. He spun around, and saw another man punch one of the drug dealers in the face. He turned around and smiled at Brandon. He smiled when he saw who it was.

Brandon: "Nick fucking Ridicule"

Nick: "Brandon Macdonald. How's it going buddy?"

Brandon: "Well, I'm alive. Thanks to you"

Nick: "Hey, I owed you one"

Brandon: "You did?"

Nick: "Well, I did 'kill' your wife and Gunther"

Brandon: "So true. How did you find me here?"

Nick: "Honestly, you're pretty lucky. I was just walking down the street, and I saw you. I was running over to say hi, but then I saw you go into this alley, and I knew something was up. So I followed you in here, and I guess I got here in the nick of time"

Brandon: "No fucking kidding. You saved my life"

Nick: "I'm sure you'll return the favour one day"

Brandon: "Yeah."

Nick: "So how's it going buddy?"

Brandon: "Fucked"

Nick: "Why?"

Brandon: "Everyone I thought was my friend is leaving me, because of my drugs. But like, what the fuck? It's my life, I'll do whatever the fuck I want"

Nick: "Yeah, good for you. You shouldn't listen to what anyone else thinks"

Brandon: "Fuck, I know right! They are trying to bring their personal shit into this, and like, it's my fucking life, I'll do whatever I want"

Nick: "Yeah. Some people don't understand where to draw the line"

Brandon: "Fuck, Nick, you are like the only good guy I've talked to in a long time"

Nick: "Thanks man. Where's Anna?"

Brandon: "Fucking left me"

Nick: "Really? Why?"

Brandon: "She didn't agree with my heroin use"

Nick: "Heroin is pretty hard stuff. But that's not really a reason to leave someone"

Brandon: "That's what I said. I told her we could talk about it"

Nick: "And she didn't want to?"

Brandon: "Nope. She just said that she was leaving. She's way too selfish. I mean, what kind of wife leaves you over something so petty?"

Nick: "I dunno man. Maybe she wasn't the right one"

Brandon: "I really thought she was. But I guess I was wrong."

Nick: "Yeah man, I'm sure it will all work out"

Brandon: "Thanks man. Hey look, I just wanted to say something"

Nick: "What's that?"

Brandon: "I'm sorry for leaving the NLWF like I did. But you have to understand that I had no choice"

Nick: "I forgive you. I understand that now. At the time, I was almost blinded by my own ego. But I've changed. I'm sorry too. For trying to kill Anna and Gunther"

Brandon: "It's okay. I forgive you too Nick. I feel like we missed a lot of friendship time that we both thought we were going to eventually catch up to"

Nick: "I know what you mean. Maybe someday soon"

Brandon: "Hopefully. I'm glad you understand my life Nick. Like, the only one who does"

Nick: "No one else has been through as much in life as I have"

Brandon: "I might place a very close second"

Nick: "Very true. You've been through it all"

Brandon: "But whatever. That's all in the past now. What matters is the future. What do ya say? We cool?"

Brandon held out his hand for Nick. He smiled as Nick took it and shook it, smiling too.

Nick: "Yeah man. We're cool"

Brandon: "Alright awesome. I have to go now. Text me up if you ever want to hit up the clubs or something"

Nick: "Will do Brandon. Have fun"

Nick turned around and began to walk the opposite direction, down the sidewalk. Brandon turned around and began to walk the other way. He slowly made his way down the sidewalk, limping slightly. The backs of his knees hurt. And, as usual, he was in trouble with some bad people. He needed to get some sort of protection.

Brandon walked over to a gun store. He walked inside, and immediately walked over to the handgun section. He picked up three larger handguns, and brought them to the counter.

Salesman: "You sure you can handle these big boys?"

Brandon: "Pretty sure I'll be okay"

Salesman: "You absolutely sure? I can't have anyone suing me for any injuries caused by the recoil"

Brandon grabbed the gun and pulled the clip out. He loaded it up, spun it around, without even looking, shot it through an opening in the wall, hitting the target set off for practise in the backyard.

Brandon: "Nine years in the military will do that for ya"

Salesman: "Oh..okay. Here you go sir. Hey, wait a second. You aren't Brandon Macdonald are you?"

Brandon: "What gave it away?"

Salesman: "It was the mask"

Brandon: "No fucking shit"

Salesman: "Why do you need all these guns then? You're a professional fighter"

Brandon: "If you only knew"

Brandon shoved two in the back of his jeans, and then one in the front. He pulled his shirt down over top of them, and began to walk home. The way back was the longest walk of his life. Maybe it was because he was alone. Maybe it was because he was tired. Or too high. Or not high enough. He made it home, and found the key taped inside the mailbox. He opened the door and walked in. He was shocked.

Almost everything in his house was gone. Furniture, pictures, televisions, everything. There was one reclining chair left. Brandon ran upstairs to his room. Sure enough, his and Anna's king sized bed was gone, replaced with a small futon mattress laying on the floor. Brandon ran back downstairs and into the kitchen. There was a note on the countertop.

"Brandon. I have taken most of the stuff from the house, and moved it into my parents empty apartment. I left you anything I felt you would need. There's food in the fridge and cupboards still. I left your heroin on the bathroom counter (yes I found it). I finally see that I'm not as important to you as I thought I was. Please don't call me. I'm serious. I don't want to hear your voice right now. Bye.

Anna Stone"

Brandon reread the note. Anna was serious. She really was leaving. Abandoning him when he needed her the most. Whatever. He didn't need her. He didn't need anyone. It was his life, he didn't need any stupid assholes to come around and tell him what to do. Thats all it was these days. People who thought they knew him better than he knew himself. Like Anna. Like Keagan, and James, and his dad. They were all retarded. Brandon was the only one who knew what he should or shouldn't do. Help? Fuck that. Brandon knew he was fine. He heard his phone ring. He didn't answer it. He heard as his answering machine picked it up.

Message: "Hello Mr. Brandon Macdonald. This is the state office calling. I'm calling to inform you of the charges being laid against you by the state of Florida. You are hereby charged with the following. Carjacking, under section 812.133 of the Florida Statutes. Assault and battery under sections 784.011 and .03. Disorderly intoxication in 856.011. Driving Under the Influence section 316.193. Five charges of Resisting officer with violence to his or her person. Possession of heroin. And finally, five charges of Felony Battery on a Law Enforcement Officer. The maximum penalty for all of those charges is One hundred and eighty one years in prison. Your trial shall begin in one month's time. You shall receive a date at a later time. Please do not call us unless you have any conflicts. We advise you to contact a lawyer. If you cannot afford one, we shall provide you with one. Thank you"

Brandon slumped down. One hundred and eighty one years in prison? So basically, he was going to die in jail. He crawled over to his phone and picked it up. He dialled a number and called.

Mark: "Mark Geragos"

Brandon: "Mark. It's Brandon Macdonald"

Mark: "Hey Brandon, how's it going?"

Brandon: "Not so good. I've just been charged with a million things"

Mark: "Let's hear them"

Brandon: "Ummm, carjacking, assault and battery, disorderly intoxication, DUI, five charges of Felony Battery on an officer, fiver charges of violently resisting arrest, and possession of heroin"

Mark: "So what the max sentence they gave you. One fifty or so?"

Brandon: "Yeah, it was one eighty one years"

Mark: "Okay. So we'd have to plead not guilty. How intoxicated were you?"

Brandon: "I have no memory of anything"

Mark: "Alright, so that might work. We'd have to have a meeting about this. Can you come to my office next week?"

Brandon: "Yeah"

Mark: "Great. We'll talk more about it there. Thank you for calling me Brandon. I guarantee I'll make you do as little time as possible"

Brandon: "Thanks Mark."

Brandon hung up the phone. He walked up to his bathroom. He found his bag of heroin on the counter. He grabbed his lighter and a spoon. He mixed his heroin in his spoon, and put it in his syringe. He injected himself with it. And again. And again. And again.

Brandon fell down beside the toilet. He looked up at the roof.

Brandon: "Why God?! You see what you've done! What you've done to me?! Do you just want me to die?! Is that what you want?! I bet that would make you real happy. Maybe I will. Would you like that? Maybe I'll just kill myself now. Put a bullet in my head? I don't have any reason to live any more. Thanks to you! Fuck you God! Fuck you! I hate you. I've followed you my entire life, and this is what I get?! No more!"

Brandon pulled out a gun and held it to his head.

Brandon: "What would I get if I just pulled the trigger right now! I'd give you exactly what you want, wouldn't I? Taking my own life would spare you from taking it for me! Would you like that! For me to spoil your almighty plans!?"

Brandon laughed and pulled the gun off of his head

Brandon: "Nah, I'm not going to do it. You know why God?! Because I know that you'll never take me. You can try all you want. You can turn everyone close to me against me. You've already done that. You can threaten me with all this jail time. But you know what?! I'm better than that. It takes a lot more than that to keep me down. So good try God. But not today. I go on my own terms, and I'm not ready to go yet. No matter what you throw at me. I will adapt. And I will live on."


Diary Entry
May 25th, 2011

My life is fucked. I don't know what to do anymore. There's so many things wrong with my life that it's hard to even list them all.

Anna left me yesterday. I think she's serious. She said it was because of my heroin use. I don't understand it. Why can't she just let me do what I want with my life? Didn't our relationship from the past count for anything? I just don't understand why she was so quick to leave me. It's not like I'm making her do heroin. I don't do that. But why can't she just leave what I do in my life out of it? She's being so selfish. She doesn't even care about what I think at all. It's just all about her, and how she thinks what I do is bad. I don't even care that she left me. If that's how our marriage was going to be, then why the fuck should it stay around. If she is making me run my life around what she wants, then why the fuck would I continue to marry her? So, good riddance Anna.

Then my family thinks they know whats best for me. What the fuck. My family doesn't even know me. My dad talks to me like, three times a year. And then he thinks he can just jump in and tell me that I need help. Same with James. He owes me so much. I gave him Keagan. Without me, he'd still be fucking alone. And then he thinks he can tell me I need help as well. That's the thing that these guys don't realize. I don't need help. I'm always in control. I know exactly what I'm doing. And I choose to do it. I'm not addicted. I want to do it. I choose to. That seems to be what nobody really understands. But whatever. Fuck everyone. I'll just keep living my own life.

Right now, all I have is you. I can actually talk to you. I've lost everything else. And I still have my wrestling. I take on some new guy named Deuce. He thinks he is good. He doesn't realize that I am better. But he will soon enough. I can't wait. I haven't done something I enjoyed since I last wrestled. I need to something that actually makes me feel good besides drugs. I need variety.

Brandon

----------------------------------------------------------


Dan Deuce Alexander

I never got to congratulate you. You won an eight man over the top rope battle royal. You won a shot at me, for the IWF Championship. You get to take on one of the faces of the IWF, with a chance to become a face yourself. In only your second week.

Wait a second. That sounds awfully familiar.

In fact, it sounds extremely similar to me, and my journey. I was just like you Deuce. Brand new in the NLWF. Didn't really know anyone except for Nick. But I couldn't even show that I knew Nick. I had to pretend to not know anyone. Then, three weeks into my career in wrestling, I got a chance at the NLWF Championship. I had to beat Ruben Ricardo Leon. If I did that, I would qualify for a Se7en Sins Elimination Match for the NLWF Championship. Against six other superstars. Including the NLWF Champion, Chuck Matthews.

And guess what? I beat Ruben. Then I came into the Se7en Sins match as the total underdog. Nobody in that match knew who I was. And guess what. I won. I beat everyone in that match, and became the NLWF Champion. And I held that title for over one hundred days without losing it. So I know exactly what you're thinking right now. You've been given the opportunity of a lifetime, and you intend to jump on it.

In fact, there's only one difference in our debut times in each respective company.

I had a much more difficult task to be the NLWF Champion.

In your battle royal, which you almost lose, you had to beat Pancake Pete. Beat TK Jones. Beat Darren Moore. I'm sorry, but who?

I had to beat Ruben, who is our current briefcase holder. I had to beat TJ Tilli, who had just beaten Jason Hawk easily to make it into the Se7en Sins match. In fact, TJ was briefly the NLWF Champion. I had to beat Brenton Cyrus, who is perhaps the greatest wrestler who ever lived. I shouldn't have even been in the same ring as him. But I was, and I beat him. Then I had to beat Chuck Matthews, the NLWF Champion, who was the leader of Bad Company. One of the greatest wrestlers in history.

The difference?

You fought a shitload of show openers. I fought future Hall-of-Famers. You threw someone over the top rope. I pinned the NLWF Champion Chuck Matthews.

And you sir. You are no Chuck Matthews. You are no Brenton Cyrus. You aren't even a TJ Tilli. You're just a guy, with some newfound sense of power, since you won a show opener match and get the chance to fight me.

You are nothing compared to me Deuce

I have beaten the best in the world.

You have beaten pancake makers and guys who make more pussy jokes than actually wrestle.

You think you have what it takes to beat me. You think that because I do drugs, I can't possibly be better than you. Think again. I beat Corey Casey high on drugs. I beat the entire IIA high on drugs. They don't matter. The drugs make no difference to my fighting ability. I can fight just as good, whether I am completely sober, or completely fucked on hero.

You can talk all you want. You can accuse me with whatever bullshit you want. You can have Chris backing you to no end. I don't give a fuck. You know why?

Because you'll still suck

How did it feel Deuce? To get hit with a Click Click Boom onto the steel ramp?

Did it hurt? Did it make you cry? Did it make you want to find the big bad Brandon Macdonald and teach him a lesson?

You're pathetic. I gave you a chance to shake my hand. You didn't. You disrespected me. So I disrespected you. A fair trade-off. So stop your fucking bitching about it.

And then you go and start trying to set me up. I sent everyone masks? Why the fuck would I do that? You think that I'm just like "hurr durr, imma send everyone masks just for lulz"

What the fuck is wrong with you? I don't care about you. I don't care about trying to get in your head. I don't care about trying to ruin the IWF. I just want to continue to wrestle and have a good time. But you are accusing me of things that don't even make sense. Like I said, I don't give a fuck, so why would I take time out of my day, which sure as hell isn't always focused on you, to send you and everyone else a mask?

Fucking retarded you sack of shit.

Then, you accuse me of making pot cookies and giving them to people? What the fuck? Why would I waste good pot? That's the stupidest thing I've ever heard.

In fact, it's even stupider than what I heard from Shark the other day. That you got high with him. Perhaps it was you who left the pot cookies around, you fucking hypocrite. Talking about how you're better than me, then you go off and get high yourself.

The fuck is wrong with you?

Go smoke up some more. Tell me what you think. It's a lot better than you expected, right? Makes everything seem better. More relaxing. Now you know why I do it every day. Its better than living normally.

Deuce, you've been throwing all of your shit at me, and I haven't broken yet. In fact, I've hardly even acknowledged it. Because I don't consider you worthy of my time. At all. You won a small match, against even smaller opponents. You have done nothing to earn my interest.

This week, at Death-Angels Hall of Fame induction, I'm going to expose you in front of the whole world. You're going to realize that fighting me is a lot different than fighting Pancake Pete. That I'm at a whole different level. That's why I'm the IWF Champion.

Talk all you want. Insult me all you want. Blame shit on me all you want. It doesn't matter. What matters is our match. This week. And while you may not realize it, I do. You've already lost. You can't beat me. No matter how hard you try.

I hope you pray Deuce. Because you're going to need it.