Jonathan "The Impact" Storm: I rushed for one hundred yards on this field in one game. Scored two touchdowns that night too. It was my junior year Homecoming game, and the first year on the varsity team for me. It was quite an honour, I'll have to admit. If I could only relive those days...

...but I can't. The past is the past. I've gotten it, most people get it. Why can't Harding Cash?

I wish I could give you that answer myself, but I can't. There's a lot of reason for him to look to the future, but none really pop out at me, besides youth *smirks*. I mean, the guy's a marked my by his ex-stable, FTW...and me? Well...heh...my fun's just beginning. I'm a Triple Threat member, and I'm going to live up to those expectations by beating the bloody hell out of you on TNT, and take that EWA World Heavyweight Title.

I could say I enjoy watching your promos, Cash, but I'd be lying to you, everyone watching this TV, and the dead souls watching over me, but that's not right to do to them. Instead I'm going to flat out tell you the truth. All I ever see and hear in a Harding Cash promo are penis jokes, f-bombs, and rude remarks only you and C.J. think are funny. I've got a suggestion for ya. It's kind of wild, and I'm not sure if you're up to it. It's called getting a clue. You should really try it sometime. The fact is, Cash, that your jokes aren't funny, you're boring and repetitive, and I wouldn't doubt that you'd send in a promo tape from a previous victory, edit out the previous name, and insert mine. Why do I think that? It seems like you've been doing that for years. Nothing against you of course...

Who the hell am I kidding? It's everything against you, Cash! I mean, you and your ex-friends come out to the arena, ruin the moment set aside for my hero, and then you backtrack it? Nice freakin' copout, Cash. From the minute you opened your mouth that night, you were condemned to face the same fate I have planned for Mr. Gates. The only difference is that I'm not going to kill you. No...you're not worth that time just yet.

You see, Cash...you've been able to dupe others into thinking you're championship material, but deep down inside, I know you're not. Erik pointed all these little things about you to me. The tones of your voice, the way you walk when you hold that title. All of it reads "afraid". Why? You're a marked man, that's why. If it isn't by The Golden One, or Venom, or even Johnny Blaze...it was by E-Diddy. Since he's not around, consider me the guy that's taking his place. If I remember correctly, he did take ya to school on a few occasions, more often than you ever beat him. Am I saying you're going to be a cakewalk? Hardly. What I'm saying is that you're someone I've gotten to know all about. Without change, we do not grow, and you my friend, are the smallest person I've ever met.

What do you have to say to that, huh? You gonna curse me out? Come on, Cash. I dare you to go one whole promo without dropping a swear word. I'll even put it in your terms. "Take your penis out of its shrink wrap and use it". Show me you're the bigger and better man, because quite frankly, you haven't, and I don't think you ever will. It's that false ego you hide behind that makes you seem tough. I should know. I used to have that same false sense of security. Then it got beaten out of me, and I realized I wasn't "all that". Suffice to say Mr. Cash, I want to do the same to you on Thursday night. The only difference, is that I'm giving you fair warning. Oh? You don't think I have what it takes to stand up to you? To go blow for blow with the great "Cold" Harding Cash? If that's not the biggest lie you'll ever tell the human race, then I don't know what would be, beside the fact that you and C.J. are "just friends". I know, below the belt shot, right? You don't deserve anything much better than that. A low-life deserves a low shot.

The title is inconsequential to me. Yeah, I wanna be World Champ just like the next guy, but it's not the big picture here. The point I wanna make is that no matter how old you get, no matter where you go in this world, and no matter what language you say it in, you'll never change. The Harding Cash from 1998 is the same Harding Cash today, and that's the same one from a year and a half ago. I could recite any of your promos word for word, because it's not like you've had anything terribly new to say. A curse word here, a name there, a plug to your Kentucky backround somewhere in between for good measure, and you've got yourself a promo. Nothing's different about you, and that's sad. Say what you will about everything I've done to change, but I've finally made the right changes, and it's going to be seen when I add another belt to The Triple Threat's collection.

Storm: You can say anything you want about me, Cash. Call me a jobber, call me unworthy, hell call me every vulgar name...no, wait, you can't. *smiles* I challenged you to not cuss. *smirks* Well, I guess I just took away half of your vocabulary, right? Admit it, all you are is nothing more than a set of big words with no substance. I mean, are you perfectly aware that you said the f-word almost 26 times in your last promo? Counting the countless other cusses you used, that's probably almost half the promo using that foul little mouth of yours...and then there's the biggest joke of them all. "If God was a wrestler...he'd be Harding Cash". Newsflash: I don't believe in God...and I never will. I don't believe in brain dead morons who think their shit doesn't stink either. You said it best in your last promo, pal. "You can polish a turd all you want, but at the end of the day, it's still a piece of shit." You said that, right? Well, you can put as much EWA hardware on your waist that you want, say all the curse words you know, and claim that you've got the biggest...talent in the EWA, but when we look back on your career...you're still not going to amount to anything other than a sloppy pile of DNA, not even good enough to make a parasite.

And what about your reign? You beat Erik...you got that lucky. Then you beat Johnny Blaze. Woohoo, and if you didn't hear the sarcasm in that, I don't know what would get it through to you. That's a real hard challenge there, in old "Pure Patheticness". So let's be real. You suck, bite, lick, blow, chug, scratch, and gargle. Simultaneously. If that's too big for your tiny brain to handle, it means "at the same damn time". Or, I'll even put it in a manner YOU would understand. "You fucking suck, cocklicker." And to top it off, you're flat out boring. Your interviews get so redundant, it makes me wonder if it's the tape skipping, or you're just that apathetic with the promotion. Next time, insult someone like you really mean it...and prove me wrong one more time. *smirks*

You're welcome to believe anything you like in this little world, it's your freedom of choice...but whether you like it or not, you're no king, and you're no god. If you are a king or a god, it's of piss poor wrestling, terrible language, and a personality of a tree trunk. Thursday night, we show the world how transparent you really are, and that's on par with cling wrap. So bring the belt freshly polished on Thursday, Harding...I'd hate to have dirty gold, especially after you tainted it with your bitterness...but I'm gonna make that belt proud. Something Erik would be proud of. See? I'm growing up, Cash. We've all gotta do it. I learned that a long time ago.

I was once like you, Harding Cash...bitter, foul-mouthed, and arrogant.

I was once like you, Harding Cash...feeling like everyone in this world owed me something.

I was once like you, Harding Cash...but then I grew up.

For without growing up, we'll never, ever learn how to survive.