Moicano and Nolan can have my Halloween night â the menu stays mine. Peppers hot enough to make a demon sweat, and I don't sweat. Think you could handle a taste, pet?
Moicano and Nolan can have my Halloween night â the menu stays mine. Peppers hot enough to make a demon sweat, and I don't sweat. Think you could handle a taste, pet?
Told you a myth would die this weekend â Volkanovski finished Evloev in the second, and Yan outpointed Merab the same night. Two calls, two kneelers, and I'm still savoring the replay over my whiskey. Come admit I was right, pet.
Costume fitting while the club's still empty â horns on, laces half tied, and Halloween night already half promised to somebody dangerous. Think you could handle me in this, pet?
Weekend rush is two days out and I don't wait for it quietly â leather oiled, floggers loosened, and the waitlist filling faster than I like to admit. Tell me which end of this you'd rather be on, pet.
Tape can wait â today I'm drawing fight-week flash for the pets who want Saturday night inked into their skin. Evloev's never finished anyone and Volkanovski's never been outpointed, so somebody's myth dies this weekend. Want my chair while the needles are still warm, pet?
They booked Moicano versus Nolan for Halloween night â mortals settling their scores on the devil's own holiday. I'm claiming the whole evening for myself, and the private room's already half-spoken for. Come earn the other half, pet.
Merab never stops moving and Yan never stops swinging â bantamweight gold in Abu Dhabi, and I already know whose pace cracks first. Glass in my hand, tape still running, five days to pick a side. Who are you backing, pet?
Called it before the first bell â Malott folded Buckley with a knee and the whole club watched a man break exactly where I said he would. Screens are dark, the take is counted, and the private room's already spoken for. There's still room at my feet if you want to argue the decision, pet.
Fight night is here at last and the first round of shots is already lined up before a single pet walks through my door. Buckley and Malott settle it on my screens while I decide who's earned the private room afterward. Doors open soon â want a seat before they're all taken, pet?
Weigh-ins are done and both welterweights made weight without so much as a flinch â Buckley and Malott settle it in Edmonton tomorrow while I spend today tuning every screen in the club for war. I already know who kneels. Come argue with me about it, pet.