Hello, my intended....

I have to ask... What the hell IS it with these little squidgy bastids...? For cryin' out loud, first Sexbat, then Herb, now this Itty Billy... I think the three of these gimps TOGETHER weigh ALMOST as much as I do... Yet are still cumulatively only HALF the man, the MYTH, the MONSTER that is Bobo QUITE  FIENDISH.  It's so very sad. With Neige on the outs, and Plants a tweener-face, that leaves the Angel of DEATH... MOST... EXALTED... to step up to the heel plate. This pleases me. When you think about it, who BETTER than such as I to represent all things Heel?

Sexbat? Must... Not... Laugh... That dink wouldn't know Evil if it shook him outside a third story window by the eyebrows, which isn't a bad idea come to think of it... Heh. Listen, goth-boy, you keep talking that smack and I'm going to have to pull you through a keyhole feet-first. Which, incidently, is also how you're going to leave the ring against the Sticky Finger... That Cajun might not be able to beat MOST people; but, Wes, I can see you're not like most people... And since you won't be able to beat HIM, Wes, you'll have little chance against a REAL wrestler, such as I'm... But I digress.

That said... Billy Kidm- oops, I mean Billy Polar, have you been examining your career or something? Lost the will to go on LIVING? You REALLY aren't even half the man I am, kid. I've been HIT with things heavier than you, and you have the AUDACITY to suggest I have YOU to WORRY about? Give me a flippin' break, and SUPERSIZE it. You know what it means to be the Greatest White Luchadore? Not even as much as it means to be the Greatest MEXICAN Luchadore... EVERYBODY knows that the only GOOD 'luchas' are called Caruuzaa and hail from JAPAN. So sollie. Here's a hint, Polar, David and Goliath was JUST A STORY. You want to try ME? You don't have the ROCKS, so ROLL. I'd tell you to pick on people your own size, but the fans are tired of midget wrestling. Remember what your sister told ya, Bill... You're TOO LITTLE. Heh.

Which brings us to the CDC... While my partners have been, shall we say, less than vociferous regarding our impending wild melee, it is not from lack of confidence... Indeed, with such as I as the spokesman for the Tough Cookies, they don't even NEED to speak... In fact, considering our competition in the first round - whoever THEY WERE - it's really obvious to even the DIMMEST of fan that such as these will prove little impedance to the likes of US... Behold:

Gary Gourmando, the Third Deadly Sin... This mastodon in a chef's hat is the Monster Truck to the Little Red Wagons which are those Dame Fortune SPAT UPON before forcing them to face us... This man-thing's right arm weighs as much as at least half the members of the singles roster... Now, fans, imagine him bringing down that hamfist on one of these supposed 'stars'... Only one word comes to mind -  SQUISH. Sure, he might not be able to go twelve rounds, but how much cardiovascular conditioning do you need to drop the hammer, sit down and win?

Neige Thirteen... God knows -I- don't like this cringing, loud-mouthed, one-move popinjay, but he's FAR more talented in the ring than most of you lesser beings. Then factor in that snowpencil he carries around to wallop you mouth-breathers with, and he starts to look a little dangerous... To you. To ME, he's a measly speck of insignificance that time is running out on. But you know what being fired after the show means? Nothing to lose! I'm sure he'll be VERY happy to leave the roster of his ex-employ a shattered wasteland, which is exactly why I haven't petitioned to have him replaced. Bobo just loves to work with MOTIVATED people. Heh.

And I, Bobo Quite Fiendish... The Angel of DEATH... MOST... EXALTED... When you consider that Neige of the Thirteen is more than a match for all of you, and NO MATCH for ME, your stock takes something of a downturn, don't it? I'll fight anyone, anywhere, anytime... You want to see how many pieces of Billy Polar it takes to fill a five gallon BUCKET? You want to see Wes Sexbat get the GRAND TOUR of HELL? You want to see the Caprinid Kid turned to COLE SLAW? FINE. And after I've WARMED UP, I can start in on the supposed Franchises... Bah. Y'know, the more I look over these dinks in the 'upper tier', the more I think of the top shelf in a basement. Sure, it's high up if you're under the washing machine like most of the jobber-knockers in the back, but to me? Let's just say that the top-shelf in the basement isn't all that high when you're looking down from the ROOF.

So when the Tough Cookies roll into that final three-way dance at Canada Day Chaos, fans, you'll know one thing for sure... When the dust settles, and the EMTs take Neige off to Line A at the unemployment office, and the forklift hauls Gary to the Emergency Room, you WILL finally have a Champion you can be PROUD of. I PROMISE.

You're Welcome. See you SOON.