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Do The Evolution, Terry
Topic Started: Jan 31 2013, 04:12 PM (340 Views)
SaviourSelf
Seasoned Professional



Huh,

You know, as much as I hated Nox's actions, as much as I think they're the act of a coward, as much as I believe the way he conducted himself was the way of a schoolyard bully, as as much as our own personal issues outweigh him splitting the noggin of this year's Ahmed Johnson, a guy that I even consider a friend, Joey Nox DID say something that in and of itself, made a lot of sense, something that I even agreed with.

Joey, there's a reason I called you "brother" at one point, and although you don't answer my calls, we don't talk, and we haven't shared anything except a history book in months, there may be hope for you yet.

You see, Joey talked about evolving, about evolution, about the need to expand your horizons and be something much greater than you already are. For some of us, like Sean, Nox, and myself, we've done that in spades, have been incredibly successful, and have made a career out of constantly being ahead of the curve, a career out of living outside of the box and being avant-garde. I may have my issues with both, but I can't deny them their ingenuity and their innovation.

What hit me to my core, what has made my change my fragile little mind about things, what made me take a step back and thinking about what happened, is that beneath all of this, beneath the actions, beneath the bullshit...Sean & Nox are right.

For a man like Patrick Slaughter, the time has come to evolve, to develop into something great, to take his little caterpillar ass and mold himself into a beautiful ass-kicking butterfly, since he's into all that sentimental and emotional crap nowadays. He needs to drop the tag scene, needs to strike out on his own, needs to accept his plight and needs to own it. Joey's delivery may have been a bit fierce, and a bit suspect, but the message was clear, and it's a message I've always preached.

Evolve.. Or Die.

Fittingly enough, this brings me to Terry Bukowski, I'll address him at some point in person, but until he gets on my level, I'll respond from a distance, because to waste the time of the fans in public is a disservice to everyone that buys a ticket to watch me perform and not ramble about someone whose career has been built off of doing a Psycho Sid impression on the Mid-Card, someone whose floundered when he's hit the big time, and someone...who quite frankly, if we're drawing parallels...is the WHITE PATRICK SLAUGHTER, a Choke Artist, and a dude who has seen more glass ceilings than an architect in New York City.

Bukowski, like my favorite black guy, Pat Slaughter, has never evolved. He's the same schoolyard bully he was in High School, the same dick who has preyed on the weak for all his life and never gotten a reprimand for it. The same guy who would never stand up to a dog with just as much bite because lord knows, he'd lose the fight, lord knows he'd get bit and run home crying.

The difference between Pat & Terry is simple. Pat doesn't evolve because he's physically incapable of doing so. Terry doesn't evolve because he's too damn scared to.

Before you guys make it out to be a racist joke, it's not. Pat is just psychically shackled to the mid-card. Don't make that out to be some Africa Joke either, you dickheads.

Regardless, Terry has walked around for months here like he's the big, swinging dick of PRW because he's beat a bunch of cats who jerk the curtain and weigh half his damn size. He's quintessential, that football player, that same jock from high school who never grew up.

He's talking about putting me out, about putting me into retirement, about ending my life and my career, but remind me again who the hell he has EVER put out? Remind me again who has EVER put me out. Hell, if we're being honest, Sylvia Wrath hits harder than you, and she's a fucking GIRL!

You've never put someone out, Terry. You've never broken someone's legs. You've never dropped someone on their head in a manner which makes you believe you've broken their neck and walked away from it unaffected. You've never stabbed someone with a railroad spike.

Call Joke Killings, Sylvia Wrath, Tommy Dragon, Joey Nox and Ace Andrews and ask them what I'm capable of.

You don't know a goddamn thing about putting someone on the shelf. You know why? Because you wouldn't the first thing about incapacitating someone. You wouldn't know the first thing about maiming someone because you're the same PUSSY who cried when Logan pushed him too hard.

Because you're weak.

Because you're a mental midget.

Because you're as much an emotional bitch as you are a tall, muscular waste of talent.

The thing about you is that there's nothing you present that I haven't seen before. Let me explain to you something real quick, tell you a quick story that even a big oaf like you can comprehend.

When I was a youngster, back in high school, much younger and much less sinister than I am now, there was this kid, just like you, named Timothy Ryan. He was the school jock, a behemoth of a man and because I wasn't some JAAACKED monstrosity, or because I didn't engage in the "Elephant Walks" or whatever other Reindeer Games that he and his crew engaged in, he picked on me endlessly. We had Shop Class together.

Eventually, after months of his boisterous claims, after months of him egging me on, trying to get under my skin, you wanna know what happened, Terry?

I slammed his head down on a work bench as the table saw was running inches from his face. He pissed himself, and he never fucked with me again. He became a laughingstock, and he got exposed for what he was:

A sniveling bitch in big man's clothing.

Just like you.


- Alex




- 4x PRW Undisputed Champion
- 2x World Tag Team Champion
- 8x Cyanide Champion
- PRW Intercontinental Champion
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