Things are going swell for me in the parallel universe where I work in AEW. I lost my baggage but found a friend, forming a spooky new tag team with the mysterious kick-man Malakei Black. We lose every match. It’s his fault. He sucks.
You know who else sucks? That’s right, Jungle Boy. I found this dork shitting around at the gym, pretending to work out and swinging on the equipment like an asshole. I told him he sucks and then took a selfie to show everyone what a weakling he is. Soon the day of reckoning will be at hand, when I throw him in a trash compactor and fart on it.
I keep going back to the same crappy hipster toast restaurant because I’m confused. Avocados are gross but it’s all they’ll feed me. But it was there that I sparked a whirlwind romance with Riho. Then one of the Lucha Bros showed up to annoy me.
Yes, the life of an AEW wrestler is a silly one, full of all kinds of stupid adventures and random occurrences. I may have even found time for a wrestling match somewhere in there.