Post by Brandon Hendrix on Jun 17, 2021 13:55:46 GMT -5
Brandon Hendrix: "Wow."
"But Brandon Hendrix won't make it with how he portrays himself! He has no personality! Nothing interesting! He would definitely need to do more than that if he wishes to beat Rapture!"
"God being told that was embarrassing honestly. Like these absolute idiots who are the best keywords warriors in the world. I did exactly what I said I was going to do and that was defeat and bring the destruction upon Rapture. I ended this Purge- oh my most humble apologies, the nerds on the internet will write a very nasty tweet, saying so much for this statement. I ended this Dead By Daylight parody… fucking jerk off my care about your tweets. For some reason, these lesser people in this company think so highly of these fans and the opinions of these old heads critics and below average ol match and promo raters. But, let me ask you, who pays all you? Not these fans, no no. They stupidly pay their money in, wishing for the Don Dada to be put down by a good guy, only to lose their money as I stack their idols up, and smash them down. I pay ALL of you. Because of that fact I just mentioned, it's putting food in your ugly children's mouth. For twelve minutes, I eviscerate, destroy, and punish everyone who wants to put their hands up to their Lord and Savior who created this vision of Don Dada.
I can fight everyone with two fists and everyone will get a punch and I will prove my point to them, watching them fall to this one hand. Have my pinky in the air while I drink the finest wine, middle finger aimed at your life, you knowing nothing you do in this ring matters anymore. You line all them up, they'll cry from the SMACK to the face they'll receive, because that's eye for an eye when you all smacked me in the face. You all are really quick to judge me, but yet, know nothing about me. Allow me to introduce myself:
I'm Brandon "Don Dada" Hendrix.
At twenty three years of age, I'm one of the most sought after performers of my generation. I grew up in a middle class family, didn't have to struggle for bills to be paid, food to be put in my mouth, because my parents weren't lazy fucks who didn't want to work too too hard and take the bare minimum BS job and tell their kids "nobody is hiring this is all I can do." I was a monster in football, Nose Guard position. Just like wrestling, I broke through the obstacles and roughed up the man waiting on the other side. Then, I saw an easy way to make my money when my weak, old mentor put out applications to join his Professional Wrestling school. The specimen I am, I learned this business and the in ring excellence I contain to this very day. I became the stone cold killer I am today because of that want for fame and money, because of that want to be the best at stepping into that ring, best into being the Hollywood attraction I am. Never in my life have I never been the best at what I do.
You see it's all I know what to do, to be the absolute best in the world. I don't call myself "Don Dada" because it sounds badass, it's because it's a way of life. It's to be the very best. All I know is how to be the best. IT'S ALL I EVER KNOWN HOW TO BE! I DON'T WAKE UP IN THE MORNING AND EVER SEE A DAY GO BY WHERE I AM NOT THE BEST!
… but some may not believe that. Those who believe they hold my career in the palm of their hands believe that Brandon Hendrix is overrated, a fraud, whatever they may believe. Those who carried a bit of power and did everything in that small percentage of power to avoid Brandon Hendrix from becoming what he was built for: World Championship gold. Everyone in the locker room I was once forced to share with some of the most untalented hacks I've ever seen, yet they became Champions over me. Why? Because they were in it with General Managers, even the owner himself. The stench was horrendous there… it made my insides burn.
But yet, here I am, now wondering the same question I had elsewhere: "will I be screwed this time?" I won my debut, but now I'm faced with the one task that I had there: win a championship. And I very much intend to do so, and this time, with a full house. Scott Oasis, Emmanuelle, TJ Thompson, Yung Sauce, Brandon Hendrix, Cadillac Jackson, Valkyrie, and Pat the Postman. Eight people fighting in this "Seven Gates Of Hells Match". God…. This came out of a fucking children's drawing book, didn't it? Six fucking layers of nothing but steel chain, five minutes of the "Don Dada" satisfying his bloodlust and the anger he has deep, deep inside of my black heart, then I'll climb that ladder and grab that Warrior Rising Championship, which in all honestly can be a symbol of this "brass ring" I've always had management tell me "Don't worry Brandon, one day you'll grab that brass ring and become a superstar!". Please.
Oh, speaking of you management. If I even have the slightest feeling that there is some manipulation in this match, let me give you a run down of what I'm very much capable of:
A thirty man over the top rope elimination match, where the winner faces the World Champion at the biggest event in its company's history, one man decided he had the balls to strike me. So, I picked him up, I powerbombed him out of the ring, watching his neck nearly shatter from the impact. I went inside a chamber… of hell. Actual Hell. Fire surrounding steel links… watching my opponent's flesh burn when I held his face against the fire… I sent a General Manager into depression because of what I've done when I'm wronged. Don't take all this expensive clothing, jewelry that shines around my neck and wrist, and all the movie roles and commercials and what not and think Brandon Hendrix gone soft. No no, he was waiting for the right place, and the right time. But, of course, I had to wait a bit longer than what I wanted to crush my victims.
Hey Yung Sauce, how about take your underage ass and go play at a playground instead of stepping onto the court with the Michael Jordan of this company? Not your GOAT? Then the LeBron James of this company. Still no? Well, it's fitting because I'm the Kobe Bryant of this company. I kill myself in the gym to better than some snot nose punk like you. To be better than some feel sorry for herself snowflake Valkyrie. To be better than…. Who the fuck is Pat The Postman? Whatever that thing is, to be better than it. To be better than this fraudulent toad Cadillac Jackson… who the fuck names themselves after a car? Better than Scotty "Weak Drip" Oasis. And definitely better than that hip shaking vanilla midget TJ Thompson. I'm Brandon Hendrix, the Don Dada, and I'm better than you.
Go ahead you critics, criticize this promo, tell me how horrible it was. Remind me how I went from Desirable in wrestling to becoming wrestling's most Un-Fucking-Deniable specimen to grace a ring. Remind me why you sit at your little desk, typing away at your keyboard like an keyboard fucking warrior, that Brandon Hendrix is legit. Brandon Hendrix is the Boss. Brandon Hendrix is the Don Dada. That Brandon Hendrix IS Project Honor.
Long Live The Don, Brandon Hendrix.
"But Brandon Hendrix won't make it with how he portrays himself! He has no personality! Nothing interesting! He would definitely need to do more than that if he wishes to beat Rapture!"
"God being told that was embarrassing honestly. Like these absolute idiots who are the best keywords warriors in the world. I did exactly what I said I was going to do and that was defeat and bring the destruction upon Rapture. I ended this Purge- oh my most humble apologies, the nerds on the internet will write a very nasty tweet, saying so much for this statement. I ended this Dead By Daylight parody… fucking jerk off my care about your tweets. For some reason, these lesser people in this company think so highly of these fans and the opinions of these old heads critics and below average ol match and promo raters. But, let me ask you, who pays all you? Not these fans, no no. They stupidly pay their money in, wishing for the Don Dada to be put down by a good guy, only to lose their money as I stack their idols up, and smash them down. I pay ALL of you. Because of that fact I just mentioned, it's putting food in your ugly children's mouth. For twelve minutes, I eviscerate, destroy, and punish everyone who wants to put their hands up to their Lord and Savior who created this vision of Don Dada.
I can fight everyone with two fists and everyone will get a punch and I will prove my point to them, watching them fall to this one hand. Have my pinky in the air while I drink the finest wine, middle finger aimed at your life, you knowing nothing you do in this ring matters anymore. You line all them up, they'll cry from the SMACK to the face they'll receive, because that's eye for an eye when you all smacked me in the face. You all are really quick to judge me, but yet, know nothing about me. Allow me to introduce myself:
I'm Brandon "Don Dada" Hendrix.
At twenty three years of age, I'm one of the most sought after performers of my generation. I grew up in a middle class family, didn't have to struggle for bills to be paid, food to be put in my mouth, because my parents weren't lazy fucks who didn't want to work too too hard and take the bare minimum BS job and tell their kids "nobody is hiring this is all I can do." I was a monster in football, Nose Guard position. Just like wrestling, I broke through the obstacles and roughed up the man waiting on the other side. Then, I saw an easy way to make my money when my weak, old mentor put out applications to join his Professional Wrestling school. The specimen I am, I learned this business and the in ring excellence I contain to this very day. I became the stone cold killer I am today because of that want for fame and money, because of that want to be the best at stepping into that ring, best into being the Hollywood attraction I am. Never in my life have I never been the best at what I do.
You see it's all I know what to do, to be the absolute best in the world. I don't call myself "Don Dada" because it sounds badass, it's because it's a way of life. It's to be the very best. All I know is how to be the best. IT'S ALL I EVER KNOWN HOW TO BE! I DON'T WAKE UP IN THE MORNING AND EVER SEE A DAY GO BY WHERE I AM NOT THE BEST!
… but some may not believe that. Those who believe they hold my career in the palm of their hands believe that Brandon Hendrix is overrated, a fraud, whatever they may believe. Those who carried a bit of power and did everything in that small percentage of power to avoid Brandon Hendrix from becoming what he was built for: World Championship gold. Everyone in the locker room I was once forced to share with some of the most untalented hacks I've ever seen, yet they became Champions over me. Why? Because they were in it with General Managers, even the owner himself. The stench was horrendous there… it made my insides burn.
But yet, here I am, now wondering the same question I had elsewhere: "will I be screwed this time?" I won my debut, but now I'm faced with the one task that I had there: win a championship. And I very much intend to do so, and this time, with a full house. Scott Oasis, Emmanuelle, TJ Thompson, Yung Sauce, Brandon Hendrix, Cadillac Jackson, Valkyrie, and Pat the Postman. Eight people fighting in this "Seven Gates Of Hells Match". God…. This came out of a fucking children's drawing book, didn't it? Six fucking layers of nothing but steel chain, five minutes of the "Don Dada" satisfying his bloodlust and the anger he has deep, deep inside of my black heart, then I'll climb that ladder and grab that Warrior Rising Championship, which in all honestly can be a symbol of this "brass ring" I've always had management tell me "Don't worry Brandon, one day you'll grab that brass ring and become a superstar!". Please.
Oh, speaking of you management. If I even have the slightest feeling that there is some manipulation in this match, let me give you a run down of what I'm very much capable of:
A thirty man over the top rope elimination match, where the winner faces the World Champion at the biggest event in its company's history, one man decided he had the balls to strike me. So, I picked him up, I powerbombed him out of the ring, watching his neck nearly shatter from the impact. I went inside a chamber… of hell. Actual Hell. Fire surrounding steel links… watching my opponent's flesh burn when I held his face against the fire… I sent a General Manager into depression because of what I've done when I'm wronged. Don't take all this expensive clothing, jewelry that shines around my neck and wrist, and all the movie roles and commercials and what not and think Brandon Hendrix gone soft. No no, he was waiting for the right place, and the right time. But, of course, I had to wait a bit longer than what I wanted to crush my victims.
Hey Yung Sauce, how about take your underage ass and go play at a playground instead of stepping onto the court with the Michael Jordan of this company? Not your GOAT? Then the LeBron James of this company. Still no? Well, it's fitting because I'm the Kobe Bryant of this company. I kill myself in the gym to better than some snot nose punk like you. To be better than some feel sorry for herself snowflake Valkyrie. To be better than…. Who the fuck is Pat The Postman? Whatever that thing is, to be better than it. To be better than this fraudulent toad Cadillac Jackson… who the fuck names themselves after a car? Better than Scotty "Weak Drip" Oasis. And definitely better than that hip shaking vanilla midget TJ Thompson. I'm Brandon Hendrix, the Don Dada, and I'm better than you.
Go ahead you critics, criticize this promo, tell me how horrible it was. Remind me how I went from Desirable in wrestling to becoming wrestling's most Un-Fucking-Deniable specimen to grace a ring. Remind me why you sit at your little desk, typing away at your keyboard like an keyboard fucking warrior, that Brandon Hendrix is legit. Brandon Hendrix is the Boss. Brandon Hendrix is the Don Dada. That Brandon Hendrix IS Project Honor.
Long Live The Don, Brandon Hendrix.