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Re: UWF Tag Team Championship - Black N' White Machine vs Your Enlighten Saviours
Sting looks at his opponents, while holding his tag title at his side in one hand, his microphone in the other.
Sting: I have a question of which there is no answer in existence to be its counterpart, and since Damien is a source of wisdom of which there exists no quantity, I figure I will seek the answer in his enlightenment. Why does a man that views himself as a martyr speak out as though he were a beggar? Each and every week, you put yourself at the mercy of these fans and everyone employed by the company and beg for our indulgence. You don't ask for it, you beg for it, and by prefacing your begging with the statement, "If I may..." you are seeking permission to beg. But you never really give them the chance to answer, you just assume that by their occupation of the seats available, having all purchased a ticket to the show, they have given you permission to beg and are also therefore granting you the indulgence you request and require. And following this perceived green light from the viewing public, you drone onward until you tire of speaking, then you work Daniel's catchphrase in there and go on your merry little way until the next week, where the process begins all over again.
Well you have begged for my indulgence, but that is a request I must in good conscience deny, Damien. I will not tolerate the verbal barrage that portrays you and Daniel as men of righteousness anymore. I will not allow you to continue to make a mockery of this united front that Joe and I have formed. I will not cater to your wishes to see me fall in line with the rest of those you have unfortunately blinded into following your cause, I downright refuse to let the so-called Enlightened Saviors wreak their brand of havoc a moment further. Your words have no effect on me personally, but when they reach the Smackdown airwaves and impressionable youngsters that don't know any better and don't fully understand what's being said hear them, that's when they do, because you have children that want to wear a bath robe and be a miniature Damien Sandow or point and exclaim, "Yes!" at the top of their lungs and be a little Daniel Bryan. You will have their adoration, and the more they listen to you, the more they will understand and then they will do more than dress like you, they will speak to their friends and family members as you have spoke to them, thereby spreading the cancer from the inside of UWF outward.
You have kicked dirt on the legacy of the man they call Sting, you have drug the "Samoan Submission Machine"'s name through the mud, you have made filth of our name and image and slung your verbal excrement on every Sting and Samoa Joe fan in existence. But all of that washes off, gentlemen. The living water that my soul has been bestowed with has given me the strength I need to carry on, and that's why, despite what Daniel did to me on Smackdown, I am standing here and with that living water I will cleanse my legacy of the dirt you have kicked on it, I will rinse the mud and filth from Samoa Joe and I's respective names and images, and these fans will be made clean and once the two of you meet your inevitable defeat, the ones you brainwashed will see who the true enlightened men on the roster are, and instead will follow our example.
Neither of you appreciate the fact that you are employed, because if you did you wouldn't abuse your contracted status to rebel against those that employed you and plunge your place of business into anarchy. Neither of you appreciate the opportunity you're being given, you've proven that with your mockery of us and your overall disrespect. And since you don't appreciate the business you're performing in, and don't appreciate the fact that you're in a match with title implications against the man that can tout the most impressive winning streak in wrestling history and an "Icon" of this industry, it's a no-brainer that you don't appreciate these belts that you're challenging for, and would appreciate them even less if you were to win them.
Samoa Joe and I may not have had to fight to win these titles, but I guarantee you that as long as I draw breath, I will aid one-hundred and ten percent in fighting to keep them. We appreciate these titles, we are honored to hold them and bring prestige to them each week, not because we always win or come out of every show looking dominant, not because we cut a lot of promos together, because we don't. No, we bring prestige to them because of our professionalism. If you two were to hold these championships, Smackdown would only get worse and the impressionable youngsters I spoke about would be brainwashed by you quicker because of the sales the UWF Shop would do on replica belts.
I know I probably didn't touch on everything you said, and when I did I didn't flip it on you, but I don't care. I don't care because it's not the amount of words I bring to this verbal joust, it's the amount of fight I bring to Summerslam, and trust me, Joe and I are going to bring all the fight. You foolishly think that Joe's merely uttering a catchphrase when he tells you to beat him if you can and survive if he lets you. That is what is called a threat, gentlemen, and it should be taken very seriously. Because while it has been proven that Joe can be beaten, much like myself here he stands in the aftermath of that beating ready for the next round.
To truly beat Samoa Joe would mean putting him permanently out of commission like our former General Manager, so beat him if you can. When Summerslam comes around, the goal will be to not only earn a three count and successfully retain the gold, it will be to rid UWF of both of you. We will be out to eradicate you from the opening bell, which is a bit out of character for me, but when you started playing dirty, talking arrogant, and making it personal, you changed the rules. Therefore, survive if we let you. Now that I've broken that down, here's a riddle for you. Riddle me this, riddle me that. He's the machine, I'm white and black. You'll get Scorpion'd, you'll get Clutched. Death Busters rule, the Sandy Dragons suck. IT'S SHOWTIME, FOLKS!
The fans in attendance begin a, "Sting!" chant as the floor is once again Damien Sandow's.
Sting: I have a question of which there is no answer in existence to be its counterpart, and since Damien is a source of wisdom of which there exists no quantity, I figure I will seek the answer in his enlightenment. Why does a man that views himself as a martyr speak out as though he were a beggar? Each and every week, you put yourself at the mercy of these fans and everyone employed by the company and beg for our indulgence. You don't ask for it, you beg for it, and by prefacing your begging with the statement, "If I may..." you are seeking permission to beg. But you never really give them the chance to answer, you just assume that by their occupation of the seats available, having all purchased a ticket to the show, they have given you permission to beg and are also therefore granting you the indulgence you request and require. And following this perceived green light from the viewing public, you drone onward until you tire of speaking, then you work Daniel's catchphrase in there and go on your merry little way until the next week, where the process begins all over again.
Well you have begged for my indulgence, but that is a request I must in good conscience deny, Damien. I will not tolerate the verbal barrage that portrays you and Daniel as men of righteousness anymore. I will not allow you to continue to make a mockery of this united front that Joe and I have formed. I will not cater to your wishes to see me fall in line with the rest of those you have unfortunately blinded into following your cause, I downright refuse to let the so-called Enlightened Saviors wreak their brand of havoc a moment further. Your words have no effect on me personally, but when they reach the Smackdown airwaves and impressionable youngsters that don't know any better and don't fully understand what's being said hear them, that's when they do, because you have children that want to wear a bath robe and be a miniature Damien Sandow or point and exclaim, "Yes!" at the top of their lungs and be a little Daniel Bryan. You will have their adoration, and the more they listen to you, the more they will understand and then they will do more than dress like you, they will speak to their friends and family members as you have spoke to them, thereby spreading the cancer from the inside of UWF outward.
You have kicked dirt on the legacy of the man they call Sting, you have drug the "Samoan Submission Machine"'s name through the mud, you have made filth of our name and image and slung your verbal excrement on every Sting and Samoa Joe fan in existence. But all of that washes off, gentlemen. The living water that my soul has been bestowed with has given me the strength I need to carry on, and that's why, despite what Daniel did to me on Smackdown, I am standing here and with that living water I will cleanse my legacy of the dirt you have kicked on it, I will rinse the mud and filth from Samoa Joe and I's respective names and images, and these fans will be made clean and once the two of you meet your inevitable defeat, the ones you brainwashed will see who the true enlightened men on the roster are, and instead will follow our example.
Neither of you appreciate the fact that you are employed, because if you did you wouldn't abuse your contracted status to rebel against those that employed you and plunge your place of business into anarchy. Neither of you appreciate the opportunity you're being given, you've proven that with your mockery of us and your overall disrespect. And since you don't appreciate the business you're performing in, and don't appreciate the fact that you're in a match with title implications against the man that can tout the most impressive winning streak in wrestling history and an "Icon" of this industry, it's a no-brainer that you don't appreciate these belts that you're challenging for, and would appreciate them even less if you were to win them.
Samoa Joe and I may not have had to fight to win these titles, but I guarantee you that as long as I draw breath, I will aid one-hundred and ten percent in fighting to keep them. We appreciate these titles, we are honored to hold them and bring prestige to them each week, not because we always win or come out of every show looking dominant, not because we cut a lot of promos together, because we don't. No, we bring prestige to them because of our professionalism. If you two were to hold these championships, Smackdown would only get worse and the impressionable youngsters I spoke about would be brainwashed by you quicker because of the sales the UWF Shop would do on replica belts.
I know I probably didn't touch on everything you said, and when I did I didn't flip it on you, but I don't care. I don't care because it's not the amount of words I bring to this verbal joust, it's the amount of fight I bring to Summerslam, and trust me, Joe and I are going to bring all the fight. You foolishly think that Joe's merely uttering a catchphrase when he tells you to beat him if you can and survive if he lets you. That is what is called a threat, gentlemen, and it should be taken very seriously. Because while it has been proven that Joe can be beaten, much like myself here he stands in the aftermath of that beating ready for the next round.
To truly beat Samoa Joe would mean putting him permanently out of commission like our former General Manager, so beat him if you can. When Summerslam comes around, the goal will be to not only earn a three count and successfully retain the gold, it will be to rid UWF of both of you. We will be out to eradicate you from the opening bell, which is a bit out of character for me, but when you started playing dirty, talking arrogant, and making it personal, you changed the rules. Therefore, survive if we let you. Now that I've broken that down, here's a riddle for you. Riddle me this, riddle me that. He's the machine, I'm white and black. You'll get Scorpion'd, you'll get Clutched. Death Busters rule, the Sandy Dragons suck. IT'S SHOWTIME, FOLKS!
The fans in attendance begin a, "Sting!" chant as the floor is once again Damien Sandow's.
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