Ace Note: X-rays? You're shitting me, right? I mean, my God. Good golly gravy are you absoluetly pathetic. I mean, it's like you invent new ways to come off as an utter disappoint, as if winding up as a cumstain on momma Seahawk's mattress would actually be an improvement versus the "man" you are today. What's next? A sick note for a wittle cold? A complaint about a toothache? Hey, here's a legitimate excuse to miss out out match on: emergency surgery for the sewing of a set of balls between your legs. How about that? Maybe then, you wouldn't have to chicken out of our matches and you'd actually want to compete. I mean, seriously. I almost pity you. Between your nonsensical rambling, lack of anyone's respect and your lack of any dignity, I almost want to cry. Just...cry. Cry about how much I've mistreated such a pathetic human being and how my contempt has coaxed him into making even more stupid decisions.
You like x-rays so much? Not to worry because at Night of Legends, I'm giving that doctor a good reason to give you an x-ray.