Post by Jay Omega on Feb 1, 2019 15:31:49 GMT -5
*We fade in from--*
*Aw, dude, you’re not gonna welcome the True Believers back? That’s cold!*
*I wasn’t going to, no. But now you have, so be silent and allow me to be about my business.*
*Boo-tista! Fine; you do your Boringface McStuffypants thing. I’m gonna go see what’s going on over in Alex’s promo.*
*He can’t see you, though.*
*I didn’t say I was going to interact with him, I just like watching his wacky antics.*
*Well then be off with you. I have work to do.*
*...*
*We fade in from--*
*Welcome back, True Believers!*
*Get out of here!*
*Eep! Okay, okay, jeez. Don’t get your panties in a twist, I’m going, I’m going.*
*...*
*...*
*We fade in… … We fade in from a black screen to a breathtaking view of the Milky Way; its iridescent splendor surrounded by the inky void of space. Our perspective pulls back slightly to reveal Jay Omega, garbed in his usual ring attire, standing at one-quarter profile in front of a large floor-to-ceiling window and gazing out into the galaxy. The Omega Man throws a quick glance in our direction, then resumes his stargazing.*
Jay Omega: Hey there. I got bored waiting for Sammy to fire up his laptop, log in to Blogger Dot Com, or whatever site he uses, and write out his thoughts and feelings on having to face the hardest Hardcore Champion to set foot in a Dubya See Eff ring. Now, I know I’ve given shit to people like Zee MackleMorris and the Bobfather - or Zombie McMorris and Bobby Cairo, if you don’t know who I’m talking about - for laying claim to titles they hadn’t won yet, and now here I am doing the same thing, but come on; does anybody other than McPherson honestly believe he’s got a chance here? No. Because as big and brawny as Sammy is, he’s no Tommy Bates. As violent and hardcore as he is, he’s no Zombie McMorris. And as verbose and difficult to understand as his blogs may be, he’s definitely no Kaz Mazy.
*Jay clasps his hands together at the small of his back, and rocks back and forth on his heels while he continues to contemplate the cosmos.*
Jay Omega: So yeah, I’m gonna lay claim to my Hardcore title a little early, sue me. I’ve established that Sam’s not gonna put up enough of a fight to make a difference, and he’s pretty much confirmed that by remaining offline. Which has led to my becoming bored, so I decided to take a trip out to Madivar - or Kepler One Eight Six Eff as it’s known on Earth - to kill some time and pick up a few things for my pal Nicky, maybe a few gifts for my wife and our girlfriend. Figured I’d cut another promo while we wait for clearance to land, so here we are.
*Omega turns toward us and leans back against the window.*
Jay Omega: First, while I’ve covered the facts that Sammy is autistic and gay, I’ve made it clear I have no intention of using those against him. Lucky he’s not facing Zee MackleMorris, otherwise he’d be treated to such witticisms as “Yo McPherson, you a bitch, ell oh ell, eff gee tee” and nothing else. Instead, he gets treated to several servings of my rapier wit, which I have in spades. Unlike John Rabid, whose idea of rapier wit is telling Bonnie Blue he likes it when she struggles. But this video isn’t about the bedroom games those two play, otherwise it would be censored in most countries.
*Jay shudders at the thought, then shakes his head.*
Jay Omega: Nah, because I’m a nice guy, I’ll congratulate Sammy on managing to become a somewhat successful star here in the Dub despite his handicap, and tell him I’m happy he was able to find love in the form of Lord Raab. Good for you, Sam; don’t let the haters get you down. And believe me, there are a lot of haters in the Dub. As usual, the roster is a little heel-heavy, but that just means I don’t need to feel bad about beating people up. Granted, about the only person on the roster I would feel bad about beating up is Teo, because he’s just an all-around great guy. Maybe Alex Richards, but probably not, because that’s about forty percent of what we do when we hang out; we get drunk, get high, and fight for funsies.
*Omega pushes away from the window and turns back around, his gaze returning to the starry sight outside the viewport.*
Jay Omega:: I think that’s the major difference between me and… well most everybody. The vast majority of the people on the roster are here for the paycheque, or the fame and glory, the recognition. I’m here because the Dubya See Eff holds the highest number of hard-hitting hombres, and nothing tickles the pleasure centers of my broken brain better than being elbow-deep in a fistfight, know what I mean? That’s why I‘m so well suited for the Hardcore division, and that’s why I’m going to be victorious Monday night; I love the rush of battle. I’m not out just to hurt people - I’d go hang with my pal See Tee Kay if that were the case - I do it for the thrill of victory when defeat was a hair's breadth away. I dance along the razor’s edge, footloose and fancy-free because there’s nowhere in the Metaverse I’d rather be.
*The Omega Man spares us another glance, this one a little sad.*
Jay Omega: I don’t think McPherson can claim the same. Pretty sure this is just a job to him, and believe you me, Monday night will be another job altogether. Samuel lacks the focus that I have; my sights were set on the Hardcore Championship as soon as I put pen to paper signing my short-term contract. Figured I’d have to win the Tag Team League and ruin Kennedy Matthews’ night to get it, but this recent turn of events makes it all the better. I’m getting a better challenger though this one is still inadequate - and I’m getting my shot much sooner, though it’s on Slam! and not a Pay Per View, as I would have preferred. We can’t have everything we want, though, so I’ll make do with what I get.
*The stars outside the viewport begin to move slightly, our perspective shifting angles just a tiny bit.*
Jay Omega: Well, looks like it’s time for me to leave you all once again; I have some paperwork to fill out and some shopping to do. As I bid you farewell, I shall leave you with this unrelated piece of advice: Sooner or later, everybody’s life flashes before their eyes; make that shit worth watching. Later, y’all
*Jay turns to face the camera, making the universal “cut” motion as he does so, and the scene fades to black once more.*
*Aw, dude, you’re not gonna welcome the True Believers back? That’s cold!*
*I wasn’t going to, no. But now you have, so be silent and allow me to be about my business.*
*Boo-tista! Fine; you do your Boringface McStuffypants thing. I’m gonna go see what’s going on over in Alex’s promo.*
*He can’t see you, though.*
*I didn’t say I was going to interact with him, I just like watching his wacky antics.*
*Well then be off with you. I have work to do.*
*...*
*We fade in from--*
*Welcome back, True Believers!*
*Get out of here!*
*Eep! Okay, okay, jeez. Don’t get your panties in a twist, I’m going, I’m going.*
*...*
*...*
*We fade in… … We fade in from a black screen to a breathtaking view of the Milky Way; its iridescent splendor surrounded by the inky void of space. Our perspective pulls back slightly to reveal Jay Omega, garbed in his usual ring attire, standing at one-quarter profile in front of a large floor-to-ceiling window and gazing out into the galaxy. The Omega Man throws a quick glance in our direction, then resumes his stargazing.*
Jay Omega: Hey there. I got bored waiting for Sammy to fire up his laptop, log in to Blogger Dot Com, or whatever site he uses, and write out his thoughts and feelings on having to face the hardest Hardcore Champion to set foot in a Dubya See Eff ring. Now, I know I’ve given shit to people like Zee MackleMorris and the Bobfather - or Zombie McMorris and Bobby Cairo, if you don’t know who I’m talking about - for laying claim to titles they hadn’t won yet, and now here I am doing the same thing, but come on; does anybody other than McPherson honestly believe he’s got a chance here? No. Because as big and brawny as Sammy is, he’s no Tommy Bates. As violent and hardcore as he is, he’s no Zombie McMorris. And as verbose and difficult to understand as his blogs may be, he’s definitely no Kaz Mazy.
*Jay clasps his hands together at the small of his back, and rocks back and forth on his heels while he continues to contemplate the cosmos.*
Jay Omega: So yeah, I’m gonna lay claim to my Hardcore title a little early, sue me. I’ve established that Sam’s not gonna put up enough of a fight to make a difference, and he’s pretty much confirmed that by remaining offline. Which has led to my becoming bored, so I decided to take a trip out to Madivar - or Kepler One Eight Six Eff as it’s known on Earth - to kill some time and pick up a few things for my pal Nicky, maybe a few gifts for my wife and our girlfriend. Figured I’d cut another promo while we wait for clearance to land, so here we are.
*Omega turns toward us and leans back against the window.*
Jay Omega: First, while I’ve covered the facts that Sammy is autistic and gay, I’ve made it clear I have no intention of using those against him. Lucky he’s not facing Zee MackleMorris, otherwise he’d be treated to such witticisms as “Yo McPherson, you a bitch, ell oh ell, eff gee tee” and nothing else. Instead, he gets treated to several servings of my rapier wit, which I have in spades. Unlike John Rabid, whose idea of rapier wit is telling Bonnie Blue he likes it when she struggles. But this video isn’t about the bedroom games those two play, otherwise it would be censored in most countries.
*Jay shudders at the thought, then shakes his head.*
Jay Omega: Nah, because I’m a nice guy, I’ll congratulate Sammy on managing to become a somewhat successful star here in the Dub despite his handicap, and tell him I’m happy he was able to find love in the form of Lord Raab. Good for you, Sam; don’t let the haters get you down. And believe me, there are a lot of haters in the Dub. As usual, the roster is a little heel-heavy, but that just means I don’t need to feel bad about beating people up. Granted, about the only person on the roster I would feel bad about beating up is Teo, because he’s just an all-around great guy. Maybe Alex Richards, but probably not, because that’s about forty percent of what we do when we hang out; we get drunk, get high, and fight for funsies.
*Omega pushes away from the window and turns back around, his gaze returning to the starry sight outside the viewport.*
Jay Omega:: I think that’s the major difference between me and… well most everybody. The vast majority of the people on the roster are here for the paycheque, or the fame and glory, the recognition. I’m here because the Dubya See Eff holds the highest number of hard-hitting hombres, and nothing tickles the pleasure centers of my broken brain better than being elbow-deep in a fistfight, know what I mean? That’s why I‘m so well suited for the Hardcore division, and that’s why I’m going to be victorious Monday night; I love the rush of battle. I’m not out just to hurt people - I’d go hang with my pal See Tee Kay if that were the case - I do it for the thrill of victory when defeat was a hair's breadth away. I dance along the razor’s edge, footloose and fancy-free because there’s nowhere in the Metaverse I’d rather be.
*The Omega Man spares us another glance, this one a little sad.*
Jay Omega: I don’t think McPherson can claim the same. Pretty sure this is just a job to him, and believe you me, Monday night will be another job altogether. Samuel lacks the focus that I have; my sights were set on the Hardcore Championship as soon as I put pen to paper signing my short-term contract. Figured I’d have to win the Tag Team League and ruin Kennedy Matthews’ night to get it, but this recent turn of events makes it all the better. I’m getting a better challenger though this one is still inadequate - and I’m getting my shot much sooner, though it’s on Slam! and not a Pay Per View, as I would have preferred. We can’t have everything we want, though, so I’ll make do with what I get.
*The stars outside the viewport begin to move slightly, our perspective shifting angles just a tiny bit.*
Jay Omega: Well, looks like it’s time for me to leave you all once again; I have some paperwork to fill out and some shopping to do. As I bid you farewell, I shall leave you with this unrelated piece of advice: Sooner or later, everybody’s life flashes before their eyes; make that shit worth watching. Later, y’all
*Jay turns to face the camera, making the universal “cut” motion as he does so, and the scene fades to black once more.*
