Enter: Anytown, USA.

A brilliantly colored PRIDE PARADE rolls down Main Street. Main Street where, you might ask? Why, anywhere of course! It could even be your home town! The place doesn’t matter. No. What matters is the community, the acceptance, the love. Families intermingle with queer couples on the sidelines of the parade, happily waving rainbow flags and other paraphernalia as the giddy floats honk and wave and roll lackadaisically along to the sound of thumping upbeat music and candy clattering to the curb and into the hands of waiting kiddies.

But, of course, one parade float isn’t quite like the others. It’s covered by a massive tarp. It draws curious glances from the onlookers, but ultimately only passing acknowledgement. There’s so much else to see, after all!

Before long however, a voice sounds out from beneath the tarp.

“Good afternoon, America! And welcome to Pride!”

The crowd cheers in response.

“Excuse me, I meant to say, WELCOME TO REAL PRIDE!!”

Confused glances, shrugging shoulders ensue.

And quite suddenly, the tarp over the float falls away. And what’s beneath is Sodom and Gomorrah rolled into one.

The float is made up of an archway of four throbbing paper mache cocks, each one splurting a torrent of ejaculate that joins up at the tippy top of the float. But beneath the quartet of johnsons is where the real action is! Because there lies a tangle of humanity engaged in every manner of sex act you can possibly imagine.

PIA

PIV

Scissoring

Fisting

Docking

Fucking and rutting, baby!

And the Rollerwhores, Violet and Elektra, are in the thick of it. Bare ass naked except for their eerie gas masks, they intermingle with the throng of sweaty nude bodies engaged in all kinds of wet, frenetic perversion!

And at the fore, naturally, is Samael Dyson, himself wearing nothing but his birthday suit and balls deep in an Asian ladyboy. He thrusts in and out magnificently as he holds a mic to his mouth and jeers….

“YEAH, WELCOME TO THE PARADE ASSHOLES!”

Horrified parents cover their children’s eyes. Gasps and angry verbiage assault the pornographic display, and yet, hypocritically, few people actually depart, as most people’s eyes are positively GLUED to the shameless spectacle unfolding before them!

Samael, without a hint of strain because such is the XTreme champion’s top notch conditioning, continues to plug away at the twink as he proceeds to barking into the microphone.

“Behold the true nature of PRIDE! Oh, save me your recriminations you solipsistic dolts! For too long you normies have latched into PRIDE like parasites, turning this into a safe, bland, commercialized outing for whitebread families and soulless corporate backers! But no more! Because we remember what PRIDE used to be! Dangerous, subversive, queer, sexually charged and wantonly hedonistic!”

Samael gets up off the twink and stands up, his glistening rock hard member bobbing in rhythm to the techno beats still playing throughout the parade. “Open the sluices! Lets give these normies a taste!”

With no hesitation, the stark nude Rollerwhores extricate themselves from the teeming fuck pile and take hold of large fire hoses on either side of the parade float. The hoses are attached to tanks just below the float, tanks collecting the um…..”run off”....from the orgy above. The Rollerwhores point the hoses into the audience and let it rip, dousing entire families with brutal sex sweat and sundry other fluids. The people scream and some finally start to run away as Sam laughs uproariously.

“Heh, hey, hey, hey…..why’s it smell like SEX in here?” He laughs. The float continues to roll along, spraying the crowd with its high capacity slurry of bodily discharges. Samael continues despite the chaos. “Oh that’s right you hypocrites, run! Run when confronted with your basest urges! Run when confronted with what PRIDE really should be about!”

Suddenly, the parade grinds to a halt and we see the floats behind Samael's start to peel off to either side of the street to allow in a series of police squad cars. Samael’s features sink into a deep frown. “Ah, the fascists are right on time!” He turns to the orgy goers. “Alright, time to fight for your right to fuck! THE COPS ARE HERE!”

With that, all intercourse stops and the nude revelers start to tear into the paper mache dicks that make up the float, dislodging caches of firearms! The orgy porgies start arming themselves and Samael drops down to the street, flanked by his now armed Rollerwhores, and runs to the front of the truck cab of the parade float for cover! He is, of course, still carrying the microphone.

“PUT DOWN YOUR WEAPONS NOW” the cops bark as they too take up defensive positions behind the doors of their squad cars. Naturally, the first shots come from Samael’s side of the fracas, blowing out windows on the squad cars. By this point, even the dumbest parade goers have run, leaving the streets deserted except for the other rapidly retreating parade floats.

Samael, hunkered down in front of the float, peeks his head around to let off a couple shots from the handgun he’s procured from, well, perhaps best not to think about that! The Rollerwhores, each holding a shotgun, also let off batteries of blasts at the police.

“Now this is what PRIDE is upposed to be about! Armed resistance! Smut! CHAOS! Not the enshittfied, pussy-fied version of what its become! And because I’m a promotional genius, I’m gonna tie this clusterfuck directly into the Rollerwhores match with Thing 1 and Thing 2! And make no mistake, this is gonna be a SHOOT, BRUTHA!” A bullet whizzes past over his head. “No pun intended! FUCK!”

Samael proceeds to cut a promo, buck naked and in the middle of a shootout with police. And you said there’s nothing new left under the sun!

“You see plebians, there’s a lot in common between Pride events in America and the XWF. Namely that they’ve both been watered down into oblivion, made into shades of shades of their former selves. It’s clear what has caused this to happen to Pride, but what about the XWF? Well, I’ve got a list.”

Jay Fetu
John Blade
Razor Blade
Deena Hixx
Latoya Hixx
El Landerson

Those six names over the course of the last year plus have turned the XWF into a diarrhea slurry of mediocrity. The XWF used to be a place where people LIKE THAT would never have even survived, much less found themselves in multi-year contracts. In fact, under previous administrations, people LIKE THAT wouldn’t have even been permitted to JOIN the XWF. And for good reason. Why?

BECAUSE THEY MAKE THE XWF LOOK LIKE DOG SHIT!!!

The XWF fans, not to mention its industry peers, look to the XWF to be the cornerstone of the sport. But how the hell can it claim to be the cornerstone when six whole roster members went to school for “life skills” rather than English and mathematics?

I mean, I know I’m gonna get cancelled for this shit (like I haven’t been already), but let’s call a spade a spade here. Those six? They’re….welllllll….they’re not quite like us, are they? I mean, from their mush mouthed nonsensical promos to their utter incompetence in the ring, well, its clear that one of these things just isn’t quite like the other.

You know what, let’s just call it even clearer.

They’re windowlickers.

Okay?

They’re windowlickers.

There, I said it! Ohhhh boo hoo hoo! I can hear you bitchmade whiners from here! “Just because they have the survival instincts of a brain damaged squirrel on the highway and can’t count past 20 for want of more fingers and toes doesn’t mean they don’t belong in the XWF!” But that’s EXACTLY what I’m saying! They don’t belong here! They’re just too STUPID. In fact, they’re so STUPID they honest to God think they’re our peers. They think that their next big title break is juuuuuuust around the corner. And they have no fucking clue how completely outclassed they are in the XWF because they have all the insight of an Easy Bake Oven sans power cord. The elevators not only don’t go to the top floor, they’re bottomed out in the basement!

And the NERVE they have, the unmittigated GALL to go around backstage following failure after failure and demand near constant title shots! “HUUURRRR DUUUURRRRR LATOYA WANT TAG TITLE SHOT BECAUSE REASONS.” No bitch, you haven’t earned SHIT! You deserve NOTHING!

GOD!”

Elektra starts frantically tapping Sam on the shoulder, and at first he looks annoyed, but when he sees what she’s gesturing to his expression changes considerably, because just above them is a fully armed SWAT helicopter!

Suddenly, a dramatic WHOOSH sound can be heard from the back of the parade float, and a surface to air missile takes flight and slams into the helicopter, decimating it in a brilliant explosion! Sam peeks his head around the cab of the float and sees the Asian twink he was pounding before holding a rocket launcher.

“Hell yeah Dong Pham!”

And then Dong Pham takes a high caliber round to the skull and drops dead.

“FUCKERS!” Sam curses. He gestures to the Rollerwhores. “Keep shooting!” And then he returns his attention to the camera.

“Hey Jay Fatu….errr…..FETU. Heh heh. My bad! Answer a question for me, Jay. Who’s “Uce”? Because I’m pretty sure you can’t answer that question without violating a number of copyright laws you pit sniffing imbecile!

You know, the XWF used to have a policy about this shit, cribbing other people’s gimmicks. I guess that doesn’t apply to people who are inordinately interested in fire trucks. But to me, that’s no excuse. So here’s my grand message to you, XWF management.

GROW SOME FUCKING BALLS AND FIRE THESE USELESS WASTES OF SPACE!

But you fucking won’t, will you? Nah, you’re too afraid of the blowback on X. Plus the middling mid carders like Oz and Solomon Kline need SOMEONE to prop up their fragile egos after they eat a string of losses. But what’s a win against the John Blade’s of the world really worth? Nothing! And that’s exactly the problem. The wins mean NOTHING. It’s why every other promotion did away with enhancement talent back in the 90’s. What’s the use of a foregone conclusion?

And guys, ask yourselves this. I’m sure you and the other social justice warriors on Elon’s pet project are getting ready to bitch me out for speaking truth to power about all these extra chromosomes. But who here is really the bigger asshole? Me, for being honest? Or alllll of you for using these morons? Because let’s face facts, you’re USING them. Using them to pad your cards. Using them for free wins to keep your mid carders happy. Using them and stringing them along  by allowing them to think they’re even remotely in our league. Yeah guys, who’s really doing them dirty?

Because what these dipshits need is HONESTY. Not someone pretending to cheer in their corners and throwing them a random “of the month award” for the LOL’s all the while KNOWING they’ll never win a big time match or win a championship. 

So Jay? John? And all you other fart huffers? Here’s the brutal truth.

YOU SUCK.

YOU’LL NEVER BE ON OUR LEVEL.

NOBODY UNDERSTANDS WHAT THE FUCK YOU’RE TALKING ABOUT IN YOUR STUPID ASS PROMOS.

YOU NEED TO GO AWAY AND DO SOMETHING MORE YOUR SPEED LIKE COLLECT POKEMON CARDS.

Facing you guys is the ultimate waste of time. You’re quintessential piss breaks. And that wouldn’t be so bad if your stench of failure didn’t impact your opponents. Because after all, those fans aren’t going to take a leak JUST during your match, it’s my girls match too! Those tanking ratings, thought they are your fault, aren’t just making YOU look bad! And nobody’s career is going to get a jump from facing you guys either.

In short, John Blade, Jay Fetu (Jesus Christ, FETU) and all the rest are just big wide awake nothings. Giant holes in the fabric of the XWF. And unlike the holes you all saw earlier, you’re not even fun to fuck!

But whatever, I guess a meanginless dubya is better than none at all. Right girls?!”

The Rollerwhores take a moment from their shootout to nod in unison at Samael. Suddenly, they’re interrupted by the sound of squealing tires as a police squad car screeches around to their vantage point at the front of the float. Samael and the girls whirl on the new presence, looking decidedly concerned. But they all breathe a sigh of relief when they see The Ubermensch step out of the squad car, covered in blood and wearing a police officers cap. He motions for them to get in the car and Sam and the Rollerwhores waste no time scrambling inside. With his master safely ensconced, the Ubermensch peals away from the ruination of the Pride Parade, taking out some lingering bystanders in the process.

The shot rises up, further and further above the parade and we see the true scope of the carnage. Dead bodies everywhere. Police squad cars ablaze. Paramedics frantically tending to the wounded on the side lines. And one lone pilfered squad car tearing ass down the thruway away from the mess.

And with that, there’s just one thing left to say….