I’m a main-roster Superstar. I show up to the Performance Center down in Orlando. "These fuckin plebs have no idea what's coming," I say to myself. I don my best wig. It fits just right. "LMAO these little shits have no clue. I'm fuckin invisible to the system." XD i whisper, xd. I make my way to the ring. I know no one is going to check. "ROFL these little turd baskets still haven't figured it out." I’m literally jumping over people 450 splashing. "They don't stand a god damn chance," I say, fully erect. Match is over before the first commercial break; I'm just that fuckin good. As we shake hands and exchange gg's, I overhear a little mark complaining something along the lines of, "this isn't fair, even a blind dead cat could tell that's Baron Corbin. Why does this match count? Why do my stats count?? His wig looks like dogshit." I yell over to him, "Get good you little bitch! Or maybe smurf down at the Dub across the street if you wanna win!" LMAO. Another successful win, another successful smurf. "God damn it feels good today. Thank god Wrestling switched to Valve's system. Thank god." I make my way to the next Indie mudshow. Today is going to be a phenomenal day.
