What the fuck did you just fucking say about me, you little bitch? I'll have you know I was the best skier at week two of Windells, and I've been involved in numerous competitions, and I have over 300 confirmed wins. I am trained in the art of style and I'm the top skiier at my mountain. You are nothing to me but just another gaper. I will amaze you the fuck out with tricks the likes of which have never been seen before on this Earth, mark my fucking words. You think you can get away with saying that shit to me over the Internet? Think again, fucker. As we speak I am improving my skills in the French Alps so you better prepare for the storm, maggot. The storm that wipes out the pathetic little thing you call your skiing future. You're fucking dead, kid. I can beat you anywhere, anytime, and I can fuck your mind with over seven hundred tricks, and that's just on rails. Not only am I extensively trained in rail tricks, but I have access to a copious amount of air tricks and I will use them to their full extent to wipe your miserable reputation off the face of the continent, you little shit. If only you could have known what unholy retribution your little "clever" comment was about to bring down upon you, maybe you would have held your fucking tongue. But you couldn't, you didn't, and now you're paying the price, you goddamn idiot. I will shit fury all over you in a game of "Skate on Snow" and you will drown in it. You're fucking dead, kiddo.
