“There’s this fucking dickhead called Wiz.”
“And this was the best God damn day of his miserable pathetic little fuckin’ life.”
“He woke up on a Monday morning feeling fresh as fuck. This was gonna be the greatest fuckin’ day of his life, he could feel it.”
“So, he smoked a little weed.”
“Snorted a little coke.”
“Popped a little ecstasy.”
“And rode the fucking wave.”
“Wiz hit the streets before his big night at Fuck the World and found the hottest piece of ass he could tap. The girl he found was fuckin’ hot; like a ten to his four. He couldn’t believe his luck. He fucked that bitch every which way he could and finished on her face like a fuckin’ boss.”
“It couldn’t get any better, could it?”
“Then the phone rang.”
“It was Nike and those cunts offered him a fuckin’ sponsorship. They wanted him to become their premier scooter bitch. They promised him a million bucks a year and all the Nike gear he could get his hands on. They’d even pay to supe up the scoot and make it somethin’ bitchin’.”
“He ran to celebrate with his friend, Tag. They drank, smoked and talked about all the things Wiz would spend his new found fortune on.”
“Then they rolled up in a Roles Royce that Old School Wrestling sent to fetch them for their big Tag Team Match against The Generation Kid and Zero at Fuck the World.”
“The match couldn’t have went any fuckin’ sweeter. Every single move they hit was perfection; it was like they’d been fighting here for years. If Wiz wanted to do something, he did it and it worked. He was the best he’d ever been and there was nothing Zero or TGK could do to stop him.”
“He toyed with them. He played them. He made them look stupid and pathetic. By the time he was finished, The Generation Kid was crying like a little baby in the middle of the ring and Zero was a mechanical mess, sparks flying. Wiz hit his finish sweeter than he ever has, put Zero on top of The Kid and pinned them both like the pair of pussies they are.”
“As he looked up at the bright lights, he wondered how life could get any better.”
“It was the best day of Wiz’ life.”
“Sounds fuckin’ great, don’t it?”
“You wanna know what really happened?”
“He smoked a little weed.”
“Snorted a little coke.”
“Popped a little ecstasy.”
“And imagined the best day of his fucking life whilst high as a fucking kite, sat in his boxers.”
“Then he rolled up to FTW and I dropped him with a Punk City Killer, pinned that mother fucker in the middle of the ring and reminded him that drug induced dreams aren’t fucking reality.”
“Cause that’s all they are, Wiz.”
“Drug induced dreams.”
“And you better load up on every fuckin’ narcotic you can get your hands on because the only way you’re beating me at Fuck the World is in your God damn drug induced dreams.”