“Bitches and gentlefucks, welcome back to another session of ‘Why Lee Stone is Better than You’. I’m your host, Lee Stone, and guess what?

I’m better than you!

It ain’t called what it is for nothing, after all.

First off, I want to send a message to Zach Rizza. I want to say thank you Zach. Thanks for showing up to the party, even if you were the guy who turned up so boozed that you got naked and jumped off the roof into the pool, and as you let out muffled cries while you were drowning, I could only ask you one thing:

What was that Zach? What was that?

Looked over by Bigg Rigg? Nah man, Rigg was limited by the points I had accumulated. This whole point system is the entire reason why I’ve never had my shot to get back my Universal Title. Every time I come in, I carve a path of destruction through anyone and everyone, and still wind up just a few points short. By my calculations though, a win at What Would Jonathyn Do, would give me just the right amount. You sure you want to win that belt now?

What was that Zach? What was that?

You want to talk about irony, kid? You told me I didn’t want to be in the same ring with you? After you tapped like a little bitch, I’d say that’s one of the truest definitions of irony that I’ve seen in a long time.

What was that Zach? What was that?

Lee Stone hates everyone? Well that’s just ridiculous. I’m one of the tag team champions, moron! You think I could do, what you failed to do, in beating Daniel Malcolm and Mr. Amazing, if I hated Christian Connolly? That doesn’t make any sense. I don’t hate Christian, nor do I hate Mike Raboin, Alex Cutwright, Jem Williams, Andrew Gibson, Chris Cage, Trent Gein, Killjoy… hell, I don’t even hate Steve Jason and Psyko Stevo, and I’ve got fuckloads of history against those two. Shit boy, I don’t even hate you. So that’s what, eleven people off the top of my head? And that’s just sticking with the XWF.

Man, you were at least right about one thing. I have beaten the best of the best, and after beating you, I’ve now beaten the rest.

And now: DANIEL MALCOLM!

I shouted that right there, Daniel, because I want to grab your attention. I want you to actually, for once in your life, fucking listen!

Look, Daniel, I know that you didn’t lose the title of your own accord. I understand that, I do. And seeing as how I didn’t lose the title at all, I can actually relate to you. My point is Daniel, you didn’t win the title of your own accord. Do you understand the words that are coming out of my mouth? You won the title, because Andrew Gibson handed it to you after Raziel never showed up. You never won a match for the Universal Title, ever. Sure you got screwed, but if you never won the title in the first place, it doesn’t really do much to help your cause. Now you’ve got a chance to actually win it, finally, and Lee Stone isn’t involved in the match, yet your mind is still just a little bit focused on me. How does that work, junior?

As a matter of fact, how does it work when you say that Lee Stone never wants to say anything bad about anyone? Motherfucker, I have nothing but bad things to say about you. I will say bad things about Jonathyn Brown, I will say bad things about Hardcore Smitty, shit, I will say bad things about whichever poor, sorry soul is fucking fed to me! I don’t need money fuckface, you should know that by now. If I wanted to, I could buy the entire fucking XWF and save it that way. But I ain’t here to save the XWF, I ain’t here to save shit. You said yourself that me and Christian are here to cause chaos, and then you say that we’re here to save the XWF? That’s contradictory, dude. But I can’t blame you, you’re a walking contradiction. You called yourself a fucking saint. That right there is a contradiction. A saint doesn’t do something because it’s saintly, they do it because they just want to. They don’t call themselves a saint, they get called it by other people. Just as I tend not to call myself a legend. The only truth value given to that statement, is by every one of you jackasses who worships the fucking ground I walk on.

The fans never turned off their TVs the last time I held the Universal Title, Jon Page bought out the company while Jonathyn Brown was in a coma. You should know that shit, considering you were playing ‘pin the penis on the donkey’ with Jonny B for a while in Dynasty Wrestling. Page buying out XWF’s contracts, was the entire reason Jonathyn and Fran Damage went to DW, you fucking cockjuggling douche.

You want these fucking titles? Bring it the fuck on! Come at me with more jokes about sheep, and we’ll see whose the boring one, you one-dimensional assfuck. Grandiose promos? Bruh, the one you just dropped was longer than my last, so uh… how about you go ahead and blow an ostrich while Vincent Jamison watches and jerks off. And then, once you wipe your mouth, maybe you’ll be able to come at me with something different, rather than saying THE SAME SHIT YOU SAY EVERY FUCKING TIME!

Did you hear that Dan?

I SAID DID YOU HEAR THAT?

Maybe, if there is a God, he will smile down upon me next time you cut a promo and name drop me like your unconfident, self-doubting, ‘completely void of any self-esteem any time you here my name’ ass always does. If God does smile Dan, it means you’ll be coming at me with something original, and that just might make me turn religious.

I doubt it though.

You better focus on your Universal Title match, cockstain, because you can rest a-fucking-ssured that I’m going to be standing right behind you, at every step, laughing as you fall into a panicked frenzy when you realize that even if, and that’s a huge ‘if’, you walk out as champ, every single person on the roster will still know that Lee Stone is the best in the company. And dude, the same politics that screwed you out of my title, the same bullshit, whacked out policies that Jonathyn set into place, are the only thing that is keeping me from standing across from you this Sunday.

And if you didn’t know… then now you know, bitch!

Time to turn my attention to the maggots I’ve been handed this week. Rather than Smitty making the decisions as to who I eat alive, it was ‘Bigg Rigg’ John Gambino who chose the names, and the situations. I gotta hand it to John, he sure knows how to take the exact opposite route to the standard managerial thought process of utilitarianism: the maximum benefit for the most people. When the match was announced, Brady Anderson, Heavy D, Famine of the Vile, Legion, and before he was so unceremoniously fired, Drake Komodo, probably had the same thought running through their head: ‘Oh fuck, what’d I do to Rigg that he’s throwing me at Lee Stone?’

Its okay, it’s only natural to have thought that way, and if any of you even try to deny it, well then dudes, y’all are full of shit. Even Brady Anderson – the same dude who is calling this a ‘two-horse race’ – admits to backing Lee Stone at first thought. Sure, he’s found some self-confidence this week, but I’ll deal with that later. Right now, I’m trying to make a point:

You guys are screwed.

I’ma start with Heavy D. Man, what has this world come to? You were the World Champion before Brady? What I don’t understand, is how you beat Shawn Christopher in the first place? The dude had skills, albeit limited, but you – you just don’t seem to have any talent that can remotely make me think twice about you. Are you fizzling out already? Or was it sheer fluke that you ever got anywhere in this company? You’re like the personification of the reason why Christian and I are back here. You are the result of mediocrity being rewarded and congratulated. You’re nothing special. Average – at best. And here you are, sharing the ring, for a second time, with Leroy Bruce Stone.

Most people, in my position, would be quick to jump up and start yelling ‘Wigga! Wigga!’ Especially given my own particular skin color. However, after having so many debates with The Blood Hounds over this subject, throughout 2005 and 2006, I’ve got to come to the conclusion that you are in fact not a white nigga.

Heavy D, you are a white retard.

It’s the only possible explanation for you to seemingly want to embrace the ‘gangsta’ culture so much, when you are about as removed from it as you are from the chance to have the World Title around your waist at the end of Sunday night.

And just for the record O Heavy One, your chances are nil, naught, zero, zilch, zip, nada, nothing, never in a million years – just plain no.

Actually… I’m not even going to keep hammering down the point that you’re a chubby white guy, with no muscle, talent or blackness in his body, instead, I’m going to focus on the fact that you also apparently have no brain.

Let me ask you this: what the fuck was the point in hitting Brady with the kendo stick? And I swear to myself, that if you so much as even think of saying that you knew he would fall on Vinnie Jamison, I’m going to choke you. I mean, I’m not going to have any choice. I will be driven by an uncontrollable force to clasp your neck in my hands and just squeeze until every last molecule of oxygen is drained from your body.

Brady’s back up now, Brady’s all fine and dandy. Surely you didn’t think you’d put him in a position where he’s going to be at a disadvantage this weekend, did you? As an actual wrestler, unlike you, Brady shares a quality with of all people – me, in that he can actually recover from that sort of thing in a week. It’s what us real wrestlers, rather than you jerkoff wannabes, train ourselves for. Well… that and extracting the most insane revenge imaginable on the same people who tried to take us out.

But I digress D, I’d be wary if I were you. Not of Brady, oh no, he doesn’t seem to be the slightest bit bothered by you. I’d draw the comparison that you are to him, what Cyren is to me. You’re a mild inconvenience, but nothing to lose sleep over. Instead D, I’d be worried about Lee Stone, because if a guy like Brady recognizes that you are so far below him, just imagine how far below a guy like me, you are.

Next on the check list, I’m sending a big ‘hello’ out to my – forgive me, ‘our’ boy – Legion! Come on down dude, err… dudes. Now I’m… we’re going to be completely honest with you… all, homie. I… we, don’t know what the fuck is going on through that… those thick skulls of you guys. I’m… we’re not going to pretend that this is the first time that… we’ve come across… guys like you… guys. There was… guys named Styx about six years ago that… we had to face for a Universal Title in a company long since forgotten. …We had worked with… these guys before, in the company that… we were in before that one, and… they had the same sort of crazy deal going on back then. But to be confronted with this kooky speech again, well it just makes… us feel like… we’re in some crazy déjà vu situation. And we don’t like it one bit, no sir.

It’s not like Styx was that much of a challenge, it just reminds me of a time that I would much rather forget. Now that I think about it, Styx would’ve been a hell of a lot more of a challenge than you. Let me put this into perspective, on the list of most threatening to least threatening, you’re at the bottom dude. You, alone are the least threatening person in this entire match. So how does that make you feel?

Sad?

Depressed?

Utterly inferior?

It should. You’re not just in over your head dude…s, you’re without arms, legs or any kind of floatation device. You’re sinking, you’re not long for this world.

You’re done.

That’s how we feel.

And dude, that’s not me mocking you, that’s me speaking on behalf of myself, Brady Anderson, Heavy D and Famine of the Vile.

Mate, even Drake Komodo still provides more threat to me winning this match, and he’s distinctly lacking in occupation right now.

With that, I’m brought to Famine of the Vile. I really don’t know what in the blue hell you’re doing in this match man, and if I’m to be perfectly honest, I don’t care. Another name, another victim, another notch on the belt.

As far as I knew, you weren’t even active when John announced this little card of his. Which means, A: you contacted him previously, or B: John Gambino is on crack. I want to believe A, but why do I have a sneaky suspicion that B is the truth? Maybe it’s something to do with John just being one of those guys that I can’t help but be suspicious of. Or maybe, it’s because you haven’t been in an XWF ring all month – even longer actually. It’s probably both of those reasons, and more. But the fact of the matter is, you shouldn’t be in this match. Fuck, I shouldn’t be in this match. The only reason I’m here, is that Rigg knew there would be fucking riots if Lee Stone wasn’t on the Pay Per View. Well, that, and the fact that John understood that I was going to do the same thing I always do: carve through everybody. You of all people should know that Famine. Last time I was lurking around, you found yourself on my list, twice!

Although I would love for things to be otherwise, I admit that I am but a mere man. And with that, I can only know what I experience. I tend to have a knack of knowing people’s true potentials. As far as you are concerned, you do have the potential to make this – as Brady put it – a ‘two-horse race’, between me and you, but it’s entirely dependant on a few certain variables. The most relevant variable, and therefore the most important to concentrate on Famine, is how much do you want this?

If I was a betting man, which I’m surprisingly not considering how filthy rich I am – Fully Loaded, thank you – I’d bet that your heart just isn’t in this. You’re going to walk into this match on Sunday, and you’re going to be met with Heavy D still desperately trying to prove that he’s not just a fluke, Legion doing… you know what, I have no fucking idea what Legion will be doing, but Brady Anderson seems fired up, and if you’re not in this to win then you’re not going to get past him. And as for me… well… need I say anything? Of course I want to, but is it really necessary.

Two-nil. That’s what we are. Plus, I’m Lee fucking Stone, and I’m – forgive the pun – famished. That’s all that’s needed to seal your fate. So sorry bud.

…

Brady Anderson.

…

I’ll start by saying thank you. I do appreciate your comments in regards to my mother’s passing, and for expressing that, you’ve shown me that I was right about you. You’re not a lost cause. Right now I’m on my way back to New Zealand to sort everything out, but ask Zach Rizza whether or not it’s screwed my head. Ask him whether or not you think I’m going to be off form this Sunday. Mate, ask yourself.

It ain’t gonna do shit, cause I know that at all times, my mother wants me to succeed.

That probably helps to further one of your points, you respect me for my commitment to this business. But here’s the thing: I always hear the same old shit from my opponents. ‘Oh Lee, I respect you so much, why don’t you respect me?’ Brady, your respect winds up translating into the same thing as everybody else: Lee Stone is a supposed legend, and now you have a chance to get one over on him and attempt to begin cementing your own claim to that title. It seems that because of that whole ‘respect’ thing, every match that I’m in leads to me being the man to beat. Even now, as you’re the World Champion and I’m just a challenger, I’m still the hot favorite.

Honestly, I should take the same route as I did with Legion and ask you how that makes you feel, but it actually makes me feel a little depressed, or at the very least annoyed. It gets a little bit tiring.

But you Brady, you’ve given me a little bit of a reason to be hopeful. You’re coming at me with supposed evidence that you should be the one to watch, and that’s almost admirable. You did walk into a match with seven – nay, six, Reggie Fresh doesn’t count, I actually pity Vincent Jamison for being forced into a team with that jackass – of the top stars in the company, but here’s the thing, while I do get annoyed at being constantly hunted as a name that everybody wants to add to their own respective lists, there is a reason for that. I’m not one of the best in the company.

I am the best.

And that ain’t me being cocky, that ain’t me being arrogant, that’s me being realistic.

Take a second to look at the eight men that were involved in that match:

You, Brady Anderson, are one for none against me.

Reggie Fresh has never been uttered in the same breath as my name – literally.

Cyren: He’s one for none.

Heavy D: One for none.

Bigg Rigg: Two for none.

Christian Connolly: Four for none.

Vincent Jamison: Two for one.

Daniel Malcolm: Four for one.

And all you need to do is check back on my promos for my tag title match, to hear all about those two clowns.

And then you brought up another match:

Bigg Rigg: Already mentioned.

KoRe: Two for one, I think. Memory gets a little bit fuzzy. For the record, the loss was some four years ago.

Kid Money: One for none.

T Money: Two for none.

Your credentials really aren’t doing much to prove anything. At least you tried though.

It’s nice to see that you’ve got some confidence in you. Makes me feel a lot less like a bad person, walking in and taking everything you’ve got like a bully taking lunch money. You might just surprise me though. I’m not saying you’ll win, but if you’re the last man standing across from me, the last man eliminated, well then I’m going to be proud – of you and of myself.

I’ll be proud of you because you’ll have shown me that just because you’re associated with Daniel Malcolm, you’re not a complete loser. Hell, you being the final man, might even convince me to rethink about Mr. Amazing, but that’s pushing it.

And then, I’ll be proud of myself because I’d know I’m the reason you’ve risen to the challenge. That’s one good thing that comes from being Lee Stone – if people don’t run the moment they hear they’re booked from you, they bring everything they have. But what was it that you said about Heavy D? His A-grade game is the equivalent of your Z-grade game? That’s how I view you. Feel free to prove me wrong.

In the end, it all boils down to one thing Brady. You want to beat me to make your name, I want to beat you to make my point. You’re right that this is a two-horse race: that’s you and Famine of the Vile while he’s unmotivated. Me, I’m some screwball with a sniper rifle, sitting up in the announcer’s booth firing off on the jockeys.

And I never miss.

Have a bad day.”