Post by The Bradley Clan on Feb 23, 2015 9:26:15 GMT -5
Mike and Danielle Bradley are sitting in Danielle’s gym in Burlington, Mass. after a workout. Mike takes a swig of his Gatorade, then all of a sudden starts chuckling.
“What’s so funny?”
“God, Jaser Cruz doesn’t get it, does he? He calls us jokes, but he embarrasses himself regularly with the way he dresses and his hasghtag-420-YOLO-swag demeanor. What a child. If he wants to be taken seriously he needs to put away the snapback, put on a few pounds of muscle, stop talking like a middle schooler who watches too much MTV and stop taking cheap shots at me. And he's also gotta get a lot smarter. Hell, we wanted a match with him and Chris Matthews, but he insists on bringing Amber Torres instead? Yeah, he’s just asking for a loss.”
“Seriously. And I’m getting sick and tired of Amber accusing me of saying something I never said. She goes on and on about it looking for pity that will never come. I never trashed her kid. That’s not my style. My style is making frail swimsuit models like herself tap out and making the bookers notice that I’m worthy of much tougher competition. Hell, I could make Jaser Cruz tap if I got the chance. He's as frail as the men get on this roster!”
“God, all these people who insist on screwing with us are delusional, stupid, or, more likely, both. Look at Amanda Cortez. She has this creepy fucking obsession with posting pictures of fat people who look nothing like me. She’s lost every right to talk shit to me after I beat her for the TV Title and put her in crutches, but every morning I wake up to some idiotic, nonsensical insult from her on Twitter.”
“Yeah, well one of those crutches got smashed across my back on Primetime, and I don’t know if I’ll ever get the chance to make her pay for it. Then again, she’s been talking about jumping ship on Twitter, and honestly, if she does, she’s making the right decision, because if I do cross paths with her again, she won't be able to wrestle for anyone ever again.”
“But enough about Cortez.”
Mike puts down his Gatorade and looks at the camera.
“Cruz, Torres, I told you on the last Primetime that if you fuck with us, you risk suffering the same fate that our past adversaries have - finding yourselves on the street, getting laughed or superkicked out of the company! But for now, your only risk is getting softened up for our TV Title match!”
“We gave you a chance to have a fair fight and bring Chris Matthews, but instead you're bringing your sister? Forget bringing a knife to a gun fight, you’re bringing a water gun! And all the hashtags in the world won’t save you when you’re getting shot down by our heavy artillery!”
And if you don’t know… now you know!
The Bradleys get out of their chairs and return to their workout.
“What’s so funny?”
“God, Jaser Cruz doesn’t get it, does he? He calls us jokes, but he embarrasses himself regularly with the way he dresses and his hasghtag-420-YOLO-swag demeanor. What a child. If he wants to be taken seriously he needs to put away the snapback, put on a few pounds of muscle, stop talking like a middle schooler who watches too much MTV and stop taking cheap shots at me. And he's also gotta get a lot smarter. Hell, we wanted a match with him and Chris Matthews, but he insists on bringing Amber Torres instead? Yeah, he’s just asking for a loss.”
“Seriously. And I’m getting sick and tired of Amber accusing me of saying something I never said. She goes on and on about it looking for pity that will never come. I never trashed her kid. That’s not my style. My style is making frail swimsuit models like herself tap out and making the bookers notice that I’m worthy of much tougher competition. Hell, I could make Jaser Cruz tap if I got the chance. He's as frail as the men get on this roster!”
“God, all these people who insist on screwing with us are delusional, stupid, or, more likely, both. Look at Amanda Cortez. She has this creepy fucking obsession with posting pictures of fat people who look nothing like me. She’s lost every right to talk shit to me after I beat her for the TV Title and put her in crutches, but every morning I wake up to some idiotic, nonsensical insult from her on Twitter.”
“Yeah, well one of those crutches got smashed across my back on Primetime, and I don’t know if I’ll ever get the chance to make her pay for it. Then again, she’s been talking about jumping ship on Twitter, and honestly, if she does, she’s making the right decision, because if I do cross paths with her again, she won't be able to wrestle for anyone ever again.”
“But enough about Cortez.”
Mike puts down his Gatorade and looks at the camera.
“Cruz, Torres, I told you on the last Primetime that if you fuck with us, you risk suffering the same fate that our past adversaries have - finding yourselves on the street, getting laughed or superkicked out of the company! But for now, your only risk is getting softened up for our TV Title match!”
“We gave you a chance to have a fair fight and bring Chris Matthews, but instead you're bringing your sister? Forget bringing a knife to a gun fight, you’re bringing a water gun! And all the hashtags in the world won’t save you when you’re getting shot down by our heavy artillery!”
And if you don’t know… now you know!
The Bradleys get out of their chairs and return to their workout.
