What the HELL is that fuckin smell I smell? Oh, I know. FRESH!!! MEAT!!!

Do you feel it, William Still?

The cold air?

The silken and delicate, yet strangely sticky and powerful material you found yourself wrapped in?

Well congratulations, William Still.

Because you just found yourself in the motherfuckin spider's web.

And I'm a Black Widow, motherfucker.

The sexiest and most sensual of the spider's.

And I'm about to suck all the blood out of your body and feast upon your carcass.

Consider yourself spider-mogged, hairy little dickface.

Hey William, how is that I haven't even bothered to look at your information yet I already know that even with braces on my noodle knees what twist and turn every which way I can still kick your fucking ass?

HUH!?!

How is it that the only thing I know about you is your name, and yet I'm already SPIDER-MOGGING you and SUCKING ALL THE BLOOD OUT OF YOUR BODY?

HUH!?!

How is it that despite the fact that I'm loaded up on two cases of schlitz malt liquor, several jack and cokes, AND three ounches of MURRY JANE, yet I can still know that you're a little fuckhead that I'm gonna beat the god damn shit out of at ReVival?

HUH!?!

It's time to face facts you little turd burglar. I'm a black widow spider designed by God Himself to fuck you up. You, on the other hand, are nothing more than fresh meat trapped in my web.

I HAVE YOUR FATE IN MY HANDS, WILLIAM.

...and I could end you at any time.

So you wanna show up to MY motherfucking promotion!?! In MY motherfucking locker room!?! And fuck with ME motherfucker!?!

Heh.

I invite you to try.

You fuckin...

Scooby dooby dickface.

Because the fact remains.

And it always remains.

And its never not remained.

That when you step into MY RING!?!

Motherfucker, that's the spider's lair.

I'm begging you to save yourself you sorry son of a bitch. I'm on my hands and noodle knees, BEGGING and PLEADING with you to think about your poor ol mama, sitting down in front of the tv. She has a bowl of popcorn. It smells good as hell. And yet, she cant eat any of it.

Because she's too busy seeing her sorry ass son get his sorry ass whooped up and down the entire arena.

I'd hate to make your mama cry, William. Your fat ass mama don't deserve to cry. Your fat ass ugly ass mama raised you for decades and fed you and clothed you, and you shouldn't WANT to make your fat ass, ugly ass, broke ass mama cry.

But make no mistake, I will.

Make no mistake, I don't give a FUCK about your broke ass sorry ass mama.

Don't make me do it, William.

There's still time to quit.

There's still time to SAVE your MAMA from watching your fate unfold live on television.

But if not, well...

Lets just say I'm more than willing.

To fuck you the fuck up.

Punk ass boy.

Punk ass, broke ass boy.

Fuck you.