Post by Jay Omega on Feb 3, 2019 14:30:28 GMT -5
*Ugh. Welcome back, True Believers.*
*Oh come on, man, where's your enthusiasm? Where's your showmanship?*
*I said the line, that's the best you're getting. Please leave.*
*Can I stay if I promise to be quiet?*
*We both know you're incapable of doing so.*
*Nuh-uh; I've been working on my Sammy McPee impression, watch.*
*... Why are you making that fucked up expression?*
*Trying to replicate the crab anus he wears on his face. Is it working?*
*You definitely remind me of some kind of anus right now.*
*Ouch! That hurts my feelings! I don't wanna play with you no more; I'm gonna go get high and watch anime music videos.*
*Please do.*
*...*
*We fade in on a wide shot of the Once and Future King of Pain, Jay Omega dressed in his ring attire and stretched out along a luxuriant and comfortable looking couch, upholstered with a strangely spotted leather. The visible wall and what can be seen of the ceiling and floor are a dull metallic gray, interrupted by a maze-patterned bronze rug on the floor and a brightly coloured painting of a lone traveler walking through an unearthly forest hanging on the wall. His attention not fully on us, Jay seems to be reading something on the screen of the device strapped to his left forearm.*
Jay Omega: Man, I've given every opportunity for McPherson to jump in on the action, and try to put me on blast. Do... Do the kids still say "put me on blast"? Whatever. What I'm trying to say, is that I've gotten really bored waiting for Sammy to stop being clammy. Since the big guy hasn't bothered to put fingers to keyboard and blog out a lengthy essay of wrongness, failure, and inconsistency, I'm just gonna go back and read through some of what he's had to say to previous opponents, and reply as though the comments were meant for me. I imagine some of this isn't going to make a whole lot of sense, but that's nothing new for one of my promos, is it? Let's begin with "The luckiest champion on the planet", which was written in regard to the person who holds Dubya See Eff's second highest title, the World Champion Brandi Noble-Slash-Savage.
*Omega loads up the selected blog and takes a few moments to skim through, searching for something remotely relevant.*
Jay Omega: Okay, well, since I have won both War and the World Championship - at the same time, I might add - this first paragraph does in fact apply to me. All right, well here's the thing, Sammy; luck was only involved in the World title win. I was only expecting to come out of War with a guaranteed title shot at One, but as luck would have it, your long-lost twin brother Dune and this dude named Joey Flash damn near killed each other while fighting for said title, leaving both men unable to compete. Flash was stripped of the title and I picked it up later in the evening, when I stood tall in the largest War in history, with more than fifty participants. I entered at number sixteen, fought for nearly three hours, eliminated four people, and came out as number one. And lest you think that part was luck, the next year I entered at number six, fought for more than three hours, and only came up short against Joey Flash because he spent half the match in the stands with a group of thugs protecting him. That's not luck, that's hard-earned skill.
*Jay skims a little further through McPherson's blog, rereads a few parts, skims ahead again, then returns to the top.*
Jay Omega: There's some bullshit about losing to Alex Richards, which is nothing to be ashamed of; dude's almost as good as me, particularly in the Hardcore scene. But why is Sammy so hung up on hatred? Does he think all heels hate all babyfaces, and vice versa? Sure, hatred can be a powerful driving force, but more often than not it's a hindrance. Look at the aforementioned Dune-slash-Joey Flash bout I mentioned. Back in Twenty Fifteen, the blood between them couldn't have been badder, and their mutual hatred led to both of them being put on the shelf. That's not going to happen Monday night, Sam. Whether or not you hate me is irrelevant; you ain't the first, and definitely won't be the last. But I don't hate you. To be honest, I barely know who you are; you're just the next one in line and you happen to be standing between me and the highest accolade a man can reach in the Dub; the Hardcore Championship.
*Omega looks up at the camera with a slightly salacious smile.*
Jay Omega: It seems Sammy has another obsession as well, based on how often he brings it up. I know I said I wasn't going to bag on McPherson for being a butt pirate, but the guy has a fixation on kissing ass. For real, here are some excerpts...
*The Omega Man taps a few keys on his device and begins reading aloud.*
Jay Omega: In regard to the title match at One: "There was no hatred towards each other, apart from Odin, but it seemed like it was all about who kisses the most ass to me because none of you actually were really hating each other." Or how about "I didn't come here to kiss ass which is exactly what Guardians do." I mean, the Guardians were supposed to defend those who can't defend themselves, but I can't say for sure what Bonnie Blue turned them into once I left Earth to fulfill the oaths we all swore. But speaking of Sammy's thoughts on the Guardians, here's an excerpt from Sam's blog "Time to get revenge, bitch", written in regard to my good friend Alex Richards. "A guy who used to be known for an ass kisser to Bonnie Blue and supporting everything that's not a Monstimal member because you're the biggest ass kisser in WCF, being a moronic bitch you are." I'm not exactly sure what it means to support everything that's not a Monstimal member, but I'm pretty sure I do that. Because the alternative would appear to be supporting everything that is a Monstimal member and that just sounds stupid as fuck.
*Jay sits up on the couch, shifting over to place his posterior on the center cushion, facing us dead on.*
Jay Omega: Continuing with Sam's penchant for puckered lips, what does he have to say in regard to the Dubya See Eff as a whole? "...It's a twitter company and too many wrestlers who kiss each other's ass..." Based on what I've read about this dude so far, I find myself kinda hoping he does hate me, because apparently the only other option is to have him kiss my ass, and I'm a little worried that mask of his would make the experience very uncomfortable for both of us. I don't think I have to worry about that, though; seems I'm probably not Sammy's type. Which is fine, I wasn't intending there to be any asses kissed come Monday night, just kicked. I really should have used the singular there, because there's only going to be one ass kicked; your's, Sam. Which you should be getting used to by now, right? A loss to Teo Blaze three weeks ago, a loss to Alex Richards two weeks ago, a loss to Brandi Noble-Slash-Savage last week... Man, does it suck to know that after Monday, you'll have a full month of losses? To know that the last person you've got a solid win over was Mischa Killings, a scrub who nobody would have remembered had I not just mentioned her name?
*Omega leans forward to place his forearms on his knees, hands dangling together between his legs; everything about his demeanor denoting nonchalance.*
Jay Omega: It's gotta hurt going from being oh so dominant in singles matches to suffering four straight losses in a row. Whereas I've been tearing shit up since my return, my only loss the result of an inadequate tag team partner. You might think you're an indomitable singles competitor, but you're nothing compared to me. Like a chunk of cubic zirconia beside a polished diamond. On the surface, you look like a strong competitor, but dig a little deeper and one finds that your value is far less than originally estimated. You don't bring any luster or prestige to the Hardcore division, and you sure as Hell don't add anything to this title match. You're just a synthetic gemstone, meant to compete with the real deal, but let's be honest; nobody wants zirconia when they can have diamonds. You're a cheap substitute for a real challenger, and you're about to be carelessly tossed aside in favour of a shining Champion. Enjoy your brief time in the periphery of my spotlight, because once the world gets a solid appraisal of our respective values, you're going back to the bargain bin.
*Jay stands from the ocuch, the camera rising to stay level with his head.*
Jay Omega: As for me, there are nothing but great things in my future; the Dubya See Eff Hardcore Championship on Monday night, but more immediately, some fresh-grilled Madivari skarcha tacos. Tastes like a delicious mixture of tuna and chicken. Anyway, I'm off for now. Might be back with one last huzzah, but probably not; I've said all that needs to be said, and at this point, there's nothing McPherson can say to convince anyone that he's got an eight ball's chance at Zee MAC's of walking away with the Hardcore Championship. See y'all at the afterparty.
*Omega waves at the camera then makes the "cut" motion, and the scene fades to black.*
*Oh come on, man, where's your enthusiasm? Where's your showmanship?*
*I said the line, that's the best you're getting. Please leave.*
*Can I stay if I promise to be quiet?*
*We both know you're incapable of doing so.*
*Nuh-uh; I've been working on my Sammy McPee impression, watch.*
*... Why are you making that fucked up expression?*
*Trying to replicate the crab anus he wears on his face. Is it working?*
*You definitely remind me of some kind of anus right now.*
*Ouch! That hurts my feelings! I don't wanna play with you no more; I'm gonna go get high and watch anime music videos.*
*Please do.*
*...*
*We fade in on a wide shot of the Once and Future King of Pain, Jay Omega dressed in his ring attire and stretched out along a luxuriant and comfortable looking couch, upholstered with a strangely spotted leather. The visible wall and what can be seen of the ceiling and floor are a dull metallic gray, interrupted by a maze-patterned bronze rug on the floor and a brightly coloured painting of a lone traveler walking through an unearthly forest hanging on the wall. His attention not fully on us, Jay seems to be reading something on the screen of the device strapped to his left forearm.*
Jay Omega: Man, I've given every opportunity for McPherson to jump in on the action, and try to put me on blast. Do... Do the kids still say "put me on blast"? Whatever. What I'm trying to say, is that I've gotten really bored waiting for Sammy to stop being clammy. Since the big guy hasn't bothered to put fingers to keyboard and blog out a lengthy essay of wrongness, failure, and inconsistency, I'm just gonna go back and read through some of what he's had to say to previous opponents, and reply as though the comments were meant for me. I imagine some of this isn't going to make a whole lot of sense, but that's nothing new for one of my promos, is it? Let's begin with "The luckiest champion on the planet", which was written in regard to the person who holds Dubya See Eff's second highest title, the World Champion Brandi Noble-Slash-Savage.
*Omega loads up the selected blog and takes a few moments to skim through, searching for something remotely relevant.*
Jay Omega: Okay, well, since I have won both War and the World Championship - at the same time, I might add - this first paragraph does in fact apply to me. All right, well here's the thing, Sammy; luck was only involved in the World title win. I was only expecting to come out of War with a guaranteed title shot at One, but as luck would have it, your long-lost twin brother Dune and this dude named Joey Flash damn near killed each other while fighting for said title, leaving both men unable to compete. Flash was stripped of the title and I picked it up later in the evening, when I stood tall in the largest War in history, with more than fifty participants. I entered at number sixteen, fought for nearly three hours, eliminated four people, and came out as number one. And lest you think that part was luck, the next year I entered at number six, fought for more than three hours, and only came up short against Joey Flash because he spent half the match in the stands with a group of thugs protecting him. That's not luck, that's hard-earned skill.
*Jay skims a little further through McPherson's blog, rereads a few parts, skims ahead again, then returns to the top.*
Jay Omega: There's some bullshit about losing to Alex Richards, which is nothing to be ashamed of; dude's almost as good as me, particularly in the Hardcore scene. But why is Sammy so hung up on hatred? Does he think all heels hate all babyfaces, and vice versa? Sure, hatred can be a powerful driving force, but more often than not it's a hindrance. Look at the aforementioned Dune-slash-Joey Flash bout I mentioned. Back in Twenty Fifteen, the blood between them couldn't have been badder, and their mutual hatred led to both of them being put on the shelf. That's not going to happen Monday night, Sam. Whether or not you hate me is irrelevant; you ain't the first, and definitely won't be the last. But I don't hate you. To be honest, I barely know who you are; you're just the next one in line and you happen to be standing between me and the highest accolade a man can reach in the Dub; the Hardcore Championship.
*Omega looks up at the camera with a slightly salacious smile.*
Jay Omega: It seems Sammy has another obsession as well, based on how often he brings it up. I know I said I wasn't going to bag on McPherson for being a butt pirate, but the guy has a fixation on kissing ass. For real, here are some excerpts...
*The Omega Man taps a few keys on his device and begins reading aloud.*
Jay Omega: In regard to the title match at One: "There was no hatred towards each other, apart from Odin, but it seemed like it was all about who kisses the most ass to me because none of you actually were really hating each other." Or how about "I didn't come here to kiss ass which is exactly what Guardians do." I mean, the Guardians were supposed to defend those who can't defend themselves, but I can't say for sure what Bonnie Blue turned them into once I left Earth to fulfill the oaths we all swore. But speaking of Sammy's thoughts on the Guardians, here's an excerpt from Sam's blog "Time to get revenge, bitch", written in regard to my good friend Alex Richards. "A guy who used to be known for an ass kisser to Bonnie Blue and supporting everything that's not a Monstimal member because you're the biggest ass kisser in WCF, being a moronic bitch you are." I'm not exactly sure what it means to support everything that's not a Monstimal member, but I'm pretty sure I do that. Because the alternative would appear to be supporting everything that is a Monstimal member and that just sounds stupid as fuck.
*Jay sits up on the couch, shifting over to place his posterior on the center cushion, facing us dead on.*
Jay Omega: Continuing with Sam's penchant for puckered lips, what does he have to say in regard to the Dubya See Eff as a whole? "...It's a twitter company and too many wrestlers who kiss each other's ass..." Based on what I've read about this dude so far, I find myself kinda hoping he does hate me, because apparently the only other option is to have him kiss my ass, and I'm a little worried that mask of his would make the experience very uncomfortable for both of us. I don't think I have to worry about that, though; seems I'm probably not Sammy's type. Which is fine, I wasn't intending there to be any asses kissed come Monday night, just kicked. I really should have used the singular there, because there's only going to be one ass kicked; your's, Sam. Which you should be getting used to by now, right? A loss to Teo Blaze three weeks ago, a loss to Alex Richards two weeks ago, a loss to Brandi Noble-Slash-Savage last week... Man, does it suck to know that after Monday, you'll have a full month of losses? To know that the last person you've got a solid win over was Mischa Killings, a scrub who nobody would have remembered had I not just mentioned her name?
*Omega leans forward to place his forearms on his knees, hands dangling together between his legs; everything about his demeanor denoting nonchalance.*
Jay Omega: It's gotta hurt going from being oh so dominant in singles matches to suffering four straight losses in a row. Whereas I've been tearing shit up since my return, my only loss the result of an inadequate tag team partner. You might think you're an indomitable singles competitor, but you're nothing compared to me. Like a chunk of cubic zirconia beside a polished diamond. On the surface, you look like a strong competitor, but dig a little deeper and one finds that your value is far less than originally estimated. You don't bring any luster or prestige to the Hardcore division, and you sure as Hell don't add anything to this title match. You're just a synthetic gemstone, meant to compete with the real deal, but let's be honest; nobody wants zirconia when they can have diamonds. You're a cheap substitute for a real challenger, and you're about to be carelessly tossed aside in favour of a shining Champion. Enjoy your brief time in the periphery of my spotlight, because once the world gets a solid appraisal of our respective values, you're going back to the bargain bin.
*Jay stands from the ocuch, the camera rising to stay level with his head.*
Jay Omega: As for me, there are nothing but great things in my future; the Dubya See Eff Hardcore Championship on Monday night, but more immediately, some fresh-grilled Madivari skarcha tacos. Tastes like a delicious mixture of tuna and chicken. Anyway, I'm off for now. Might be back with one last huzzah, but probably not; I've said all that needs to be said, and at this point, there's nothing McPherson can say to convince anyone that he's got an eight ball's chance at Zee MAC's of walking away with the Hardcore Championship. See y'all at the afterparty.
*Omega waves at the camera then makes the "cut" motion, and the scene fades to black.*
