Hello, my intended...

Well, well, well... Now that I've said 'hello' in my own special way on the Sunday Afternoon show, they've booked me in a match with the Snowbunny on the Supercard... This pleases me. Normally, everyone would spend the rest of the time between then and now planning Neige's Going Away Party - but instead they content themselves with lame jailhouse jokes and similar. Fine. I know that this is the Stereo Type Wrestling Federation, but I figured it was based on how the lesser beings ACTED instead of how they THOUGHT. My mistake.

So, just to clear some things up... You see, in jail, it's a little different than it is on the outside... If you don't FIGHT, you DANCE... While it's easy - and perhaps balm to your inflated self-worth - for you skittering crawlies in the back to assume that I danced, that's based more on what YOU would do if in jail than it is on facts. I fought. And eventually, as it started to become apparent to the rest of the cons that Bobo Quite Fiendish was nobody's special friend, they started looking for easier meat. Meat like YOURSELVES, who let their mouths write rubber checks on the empty account of their 'ability'. See, when you're inside, you can either back up what you say or say what up your back...

That said, one could foreseeably ask themselves why I came out to assist Homicidal Hank... Well, I didn't... I was already out there in the crowd so I could say hello to Neige as only I can. But y'know, seeing Hank out there attacking Plants' sick little pal to draw out the Doc, well... In all honesty, it's been said that the enemy of my enemy is my friend - and that holds true to this day. And when the Doc ran out to save his personal pal, the man who hides the bodies of all the unfortunate recipients of Plant's quackery in exchange for 'time alone' with them, I took the opportunity as it presented itself to split his part-time Italian skimmer. Pardon the pun, but I hope I changed his mind about whether he's got what it takes to engage in a feud with the likes of the Angel of Death MOST EXALTED. Don't worry, pain is just God's way of showing you your limitations...

Now to business, seeing as I've gained the ersatz alliance of Hank and whatever other mental defectives he hangs out with, I can say with all confidence that Neige and Plants now REALLY have nowhere left to hide... Plants, your attempt to enter into the Tag Ranks to avoid me are now thwarted. Neige, your pals in the Poseur Club aren't going to provide any protection either. Now there is NO MATCH you can 'specialize' in to dodge me... Tag Team? Covered. Six-man? Covered. Hardcore? It is to laugh. I guess the only hope you've got is to enlist Jenny Craig's assistance and become a cruiserweight... Well, I guess you can't say the brass never gave you a chance now, eh? First shake's on me.

TV: Anata wa N-H-K-One. Nippon Ichi TV.

Oh yeah, that reminds me... Neige, since it seems to be my lot in life to see to it you don't die ignorant, let me explain something to you... That 'Hochu Tenchin Amaguriken' crap you want to try should be reserved to use against people that DON'T really speak Japanese. The effect you attempted to refer to in moron's mock-Japanese is better known by people that AREN'T poseurs as 'Hyakuken Shin', which translates to 'Speedy Fists of Death'. Which proves yet again that Canadians and anime don't mix - and if you folks at home don't believe me, watch an English version of Bishojou Senshi Seiraa Muun. Connection? These shows are butchered in CANA-Duh. You should do like your Mom told you and just 'French'... Heh.

Don't worry, Neige, I haven't damaged your credibility... You don't HAVE any. You say you're an evil heel-type guy? Must... Not... Laugh... See, kid, you've got the same problem that the boys in Atlanta do - you can't tell the difference between 'heel' heat and 'you suck, get off the stage' heat. It's a common enough mistake. Hell, the marks CHEER for me, and I really AM evil. I guess they like that GENUINE vibe I give off, or something, who knows? Either that, or they'd cheer for ANYBODY that can shut you the hell up... So, naturally, since you can't possibly hold onto that 'Top Heel' berth in the ol' hierarchy as long as I'm around you'll do one of three things...

One: Acknowledge your limitations and go back to the mid-card where whiny dinks like you belong.

Two: Run like hell. Although that's ALSO acknowledging your limitations, isn't it?

Three: Believe your own BS and step up for the Wild Ride. Which will show the OTHER marks what HAPPENS when you DON'T acknowledge your limitations...

Kid, there was a time when 'hooker' wasn't your sister's job description... When 'shooter' wasn't something suburbian refugees like you did with Peach Schnapp's... I am an anachronism, I know... In those olden days, a champ would actually HAVE to be BETTER than the people that challenged him to stay a champ. These days, a skilled technician and wrecking machine like me is pushed aside by three-move cheese-eaters like you that talk a good game with a 'creative control' clause in your contracts... NO MORE. Not only am I fifty times the wrestler/martial artist/man you can NEVER HOPE TO BE, but as the final nail in the box you'll put your piteous imitation of a career in, I'm better on the stick, too...

Consider your 'Anime Style Cage Match' accepted... But I have a little proviso of my own to sweeten the pot - if (Must... Not... Laugh...) you've got the STONES. That match shall be a PINFALL ONLY match. The only way to be declared the winner is by the one... two... three... You won't be able to 'tap out' when the going gets too tough. You won't be able to get yourself DQed by going into your bag of toys. Hell, the ref won't even be able to stop it after you black out... You can only stop the pain by pinfall. Normally, that kind of match is reserved for those that can actually WIN that way, but I'll make a special amendment to allow you the opportunity to learn at the hands of a MASTER.

Remember, it's my job to see to it that you don't die IGNORANT. After I educate you, though... Well... You won't be ignorant anymore, so... Better start PACKING.

Notice is served.

<Knock Knock>

Ah... My... Allies have arrived. This pleases me.

Bobo opens the door, and we see the entire Asylum Alliance outside in their psychotic glory.

Hank: Grrrr- Snort - Snaph!

Give it a rest, Henry. I'm not a mark...

Hank: Oh, okay... Uh, so what did you wanna see me and the guys about...?

Education. You lot are going to learn what  it means to align yourself with such as I.

ThatGuy: Wow, that sounds menacing as hell... Hey! He's got his own RING! KEWL! And look at this! Japa-sneezes! And look at all these TAPES! And look at that GYM! Holy MOSES, this guy could open a school...

I just did. Heh.

Hank: Really? Wow, how do we sign up?

........That's just sad. Really.

Listen.... Gentlemen... Under my tutelage, your raw enthusiasm and willingness to take bump after bump will pay off in a big way... You shall soon be considered the most fearsome group of psychotics that the world has ever had the bad luck to have walk upon it. Soon you.... Guy? Are you still with me here?

ThatGuy: Uh... Yeah. Sorry. I was just wondering how you keep the act on all the time like you do...

Hank: Maybe it's cuz he really IS-

Don't tell him, Henry... Sometimes ignorance IS bliss.

Hank: Oh... Right. Cuz if he knew you really WERE a psycho... Then... He might run AWAY... I get it! Thanks!

You're welcome... See you SOON.