Post by Gerard Gerard on Dec 23, 2010 17:32:39 GMT -5
I remember being a 12 year old kid watching you make your debut against Kurt Angle, I remember seeing you come out there with that stupid generic music that no-one cared about. I remember the way you slapped Kurt Angle square in the face. I REMEMBER WATCHING YOU TAKE THAT MAN TO THE LIMIT. YOU WERE RAW, YOU WERE HUNGRY, YOU WERE AN ANIMAL, JOHN. A FREAKING ANIMAL!
Then we started to see a little more into you. Out came the chains, the jerseys and the freestyles. You were *so* adorable busting out your little rhymes, Cena. We all laughed and shouted along with the last word because we thought it was cool to swear on TV. We all booed for you, although we secretly wanted to cheer for you. I was just the same, Cena. I was just like all those other kids. When your time came, and you told Heyman to shove it, we loved it, Cena. We cheered for you, I CHEERED FOR YOU, CENA! I was 14 years old, I looked up to you. You were everything us little kids needed. The sky was the limit for you. You finally rose to the top of the mountain, and we were the ones that carried you up there. Everything you earned, every pinfall, every submission, me, and every other member of the WWE Universe, we were chanting for you all the way!
And that's where it started to go downhill. That's where the trian fell off the tracks, Cena. That's where you became the corporate sham that you are today, you piece of trash. You fraud, YOU SELLOUT! It wasn't about the fans after that. You didn't need us! You just knew every little kid out there would talk their mother and father into buying whatever garbage you wore on your back, because you knew they would do whatever you told them to!
The fire had died out. We saw the same garbage over and over again. You know those fans who chanted "You Can't Wrestle"? They were right, John! You turned on us, and we turned our backs on you. We grew up with you, Cena. You stole my love for this sport from me. Everytime I turned on the TV, you were there. Every time I went to WWE.com, you were there. Everytime I wanted a new WWE t-shirt, they told me to buy YOUR stuff. Why? Do you not have enough money? Did your 100th movie in which you play a disgruntled action hero fail AGAIN? Did you ever get round to releasing a second rap album? I bet, no I hope, no... I PRAY the answer is no. Because I'm sick of hearing about you. I'm sick of hearing from you. I'm sick of being told I can't see you, I'm sick of being told "The Champ is Here". I'm sick of you.
You're a cancer, Cena. You're the cancer that is killing the company that Triple H, The Rock, Stone Cold Steve Austin, The Undertaker, Shawn Michaels, Bret Hart, all those guys, they brought me to this company, Cena. They're the ones who put my butt in the seat. I remember as a kid watching Shawn Michaels fulfill the boyhoof dream. I remember watching Bret Hart break out of the Perfect-Plex. I remember giving Steve Austin a "Hell Yeah!".
You know what I remember about you Cena? Every single stupid t-shirt you ever brought out, every stupid slogan you tried to pass off, every single lame and unfunny joke that you expected grown men to laugh at. You're an insult to our intelligence, and to be honest, Cena, you're the reason why this company is no longer what it used to be. You're making this company sick, you're making the WWE Universe sick, and you're making me SICK!
*hits Cena with the microphone, and then delivers finishing move, and walks out through the crowd, only to see CM Punk run the opposite way, chair in hand*
promo of the day, kudos.
