So, it has finally come to this. After enduring insult after insult from New Era of Wrestling management, they send the proverbial straw to break the camel's back. After being gypped out of my World Heavyweight Championship in an attempt at giving the God-damned Communist a liberal-inspired handout, after having all my hard work and sacrifice in getting Jean Rabesque deported, after seeing everything I've ever done in this company fall apart like a shoddily made Japanese stereo (buy American!), they shovel a giant heap of Democrat bullsh*t on top of me.
They dared put the Frog and a cross-dressing ninny on the same level as I am.
Jean Rabesque, creme de le creme? Are you serious? I haven't laughed this hard since the Democrats thought it was a good idea to trot out Howard Dean as their party's chairman. Rabesque, I've made my career in NEW making you look like the smacked ass you really are. I took your Championship. I sent you packing, and last week, I was wily enough to earn a countout victory over you and embarrass you and your team. Face it, you'll never be as smart as I am. You'll never be as tough as I am. You'll never have the righteous moral compass that I have, and quite frankly, you'll never be as good as I am. You should pack it in now and go back to Quebec or whatever other dank, liberal infested hellhole you came from, because from here on in, it's nothing but conservative thumpings for you.
Shawn Hart, creme de le creme? It's a joke that you even stained my title, stolen property, with your contaminated hands. You waltz in here and win some clusterf*ck of a battle royale after traipsing in when everyone else had done all the work and think you can be the king of this company? You only caught the theif who took my title with his proverbial pants down for a fleeting moment, and before that moment was gone, he took the title out of your paws, probably while you were distracted by a homosexual marriage, wishing some day that it could be you in your own home country. Well, as long as I live and breathe, you will never be allowed to join in holy matrimony with your life-partner, and you will never get your hands on MY Championship again! It's a sin that the title was even taken off me in the first place, and you had to sully it with your cross-dressing hands. I don't take kindly to either one of those situations, Hart. I am going to strike you down so that you'll never get the bright idea to take what truly isn't yours ever again.
Now, Mr. Daymon, I don't have the harsh words for you that I have the other opponents. You indeed served me well last week as a tag partner, and I think if you got a haircut, maybe cleaned yourself up a little bit and reined in your wild side, you could be a fine Republican booster some day. Even though you got in my way a few times, you helped to gain our team a victory, and for that, I'm appreciative. However, this week, the pleasantries cease. We are not teammates, and you stand in the way of me retrieving that which has been stolen from me. You are business and I shall take care of you like you are business. We may have lost our hold on Congress, but the Republican Party shall not lose its hold in NEW. Because of that, Mr. Daymon, you shall be a casuality, collateral damage if you will.
Because when I take my Championship back, you'll know that your wounds would have been inflicted by a real man, a man's man... a conservative man. Those wounds, and the maimings I shall inflict on the two frauds in this matchup, they will serve as a message to President LaRocque and Vice President Marceau.
That message? Don't cross the Republican Party. Don't cross Gordon Oliver Powell. Because if you do, what happens won't be my responsibility. I will regain my Championship, and if I hurt everyone in this federation because of it, so be it. You'll be devastated like Grenada.
