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Post by Results on Jun 27, 2016 20:36:02 GMT -6
Introduction.
The web stream opens with a shot of the announcer's table, the three commentators sitting side-by-side in the midst of beautiful Humboldt Park where the crowd has gathered around and cheers at full volume. The table is decorated in festive patriotic bunting, and the commentators are dressed for the occasion: Michael in a crisp suit with an American Flag pin, Chris in a matching suit with a Union Jack pin, and Justin in a full Uncle Sam regalia. As the camera lands on them, Justin coughs and slips something under the table before folding his hands before him.
Michael Stelzner: Good evening, ladies and gentlemen, and welcome to UCI Overload Special Edition: Election Day! I’m Michael Stelzner, and joining me are my co-hosts Christopher Morrell and Justin Chambers.
Justin Chambers: Make America Dank Again.
Christopher Morrell: And leave the European Union.
Michael Stelzner: Tonight is special because the championship matches have been voted on and determined by you, the fans. In the main event, we’ll see Crow McMorris defend the UCI Championship against Jay Omega, Andre Holmes, Chase Jackson, and the Polar Phantasm.
Christopher Morrell: We also get to see David Sanchez kick the shit out of Teddy Sol and Erin Fausse for the Rising Stars Championship.
Justin Chamber: And don’t forget Da Beavs against Kyle Cameron for the Television Championship.
The opening buzz of “Lost Boys” by Death Grips hits the P.A. as the crowd goes wild with boos and the lights dim.
Michael Stelzner: And I suppose we’re going to have the elephant in the room addressed immediately.
Justin Chambers: Y huwie. Y u do dis.
Strobes of blue and white hit the curtain which parts as Howard Black steps out onto the stage to a chorus of boos. His hood already hangs down, his sweater unzipped to reveal a faded shirt with white lettering: “DARK KNIGHT FEELING”. As he walks down the ring, he ignores fans on both sides of the aisle before sliding in and crossing the ring, motioning for a microphone from the attendants at ringside. Catching it, he turns back to the center and raises the microphone to his mouth as his music dies. The boos in the arena are thunderous. Howard smiles.
Howard Black: You know, this is the most passion any of you have ever shown me. And it says all I could’ve imagined that it’s the booing which would’ve been louder than any cheer you ever gave me.
He lowers the mic as the boos swell once more, gesturing to the audience with a wry smile before giving a shrug.
Howard Black: Last year in WCF, I stood perpetually on the precipice of the summit. I made it to my position despite every obstacle thrown in my way. From the boys in the back to my booking by the management to partners abandoning me or not pulling their weight. On week two of my career, I was put in a tag match with Eve Vega against Joey Flash and Katherine Phoenix because Seth Lerch thought that an oh-and-two record would make me turn tail. Instead, I turned around and I made his golden boy Thomas Bates tap like a bitch. Instead, I went on to be the absolute dark horse in this federation!
Who had a spotless tag record against the Poondock Saints? Who stood up to Bobby Cairo trying to swipe his spot as number one contender and made him the Gonefather? Who fired the first shots against Imperium? Who exposed the first chinks in the armor of the Dark Riders Gang, taking that whole faction practically on his own for the rest of you to pick the bones?! I was the man when I was around!
Howard lowers the mic again to soak in the booing, closing his eyes as his smile widens. After a moment, he opens his eyes and points at the audience, spinning in a slow circle.
Howard Black: I came back from retirement and made Dune tap out, and you people were more interested in a degenerate thug like Joseph Malignaggi or a cowardly deserter like Occulo. Once again, I went out, put everything on the line, and I received nothing for it. No praise. No applause. I lost “Promotional Video of the Year” to a fucking parody song, and that was at the voting of you! This isn’t sour grapes, but the fact that David Sanchez’s return has the internet buzzing like it is and Jay Omega getting another shot at the title makes me fucking sick.
So let me tell you why I did what I did. One: I attacked Crow McMorris because he’s holding something that I deserve. Something that I had spent my entire career being held down and cast aside for, and he just waltzes in, beats a loser like Omega, and has become the man. And while that made me sick, it was seeing this stupid Election Day crap and only guessing which other fan favorite losers you morons would push forward that made me want to puke my fucking guts up. So, two: I made my return and attacked Crow McMorris explicitly after the polls for this little dog and pony show ended because I don’t need a high school popularity contest to earn a shot at the belt – that should be self-evident.
The booing rears once more as he lowers the mic, looking around for a moment before raising it again.
Howard Black: I have never felt entitled to anything. I have never raised my voice or complained about an unfair situation – I just went out and showed that I was the best. And that’s what I’m going to do now – prove that I’m the man to beat the champ. I’m going to shred through this roster like paper, and I’m going to put so many wrestlers on the injured list that Spencer Adams is going to have no choice but to give me the shot I deserve. And I don’t give a damn if it’s against Crow or Omega or Polar or CJ3 or Andre Holmes – I will be walking into the next pay per as the challengers and out the champion.
“God's Gonna Cut you Down”, by Johnny Cash hits as out struts a mean and confident Buddy Roman; he's dressed in his familiar dark blue suit; accompanied by a deep crimson tie. He has a microphone as he stands on the stage edge, looking down on a stone faced Howard Black who appears resolute while in the gaze of the shape.
Buddy Roman: Ladies and gentlemen, my name, is...
Crowd: BUHDEEEEEE ROHMANNNNN
Buddy Roman: So, “Howieeee”. Let me understand this correctly. Did you just say, “Just Waltzes in?” That's what you just said, correct? Just. Waltzes. In? I think you and I need to be clear about a few things. One: my Grandson was a part of the WCF a full six months before you even arrived. You're a tourist compared to him. Two: he's been a part of the UCI since the very beginning. You, on the other hand, with your self congratulatory tee and sub-par CM Punk impersonations are a bit part player here. Three: Crow won the belt in a tournament you didn't have the guts to attend. Probably because you were ironing your hair or doing your nails or crying over your broken arm again while Bates clapped you off the stage.
You, Honey Profit, are a needful, pitiful thing. A small man who snapped the day his arm was snapped. Because in that moment you began to realize something as the crowds sort of clapped you and kinda liked you. You, Howard Back, are not over. You'll never be over. Because for these fans you're a stuck up prick. And stuck up pricks, such as yourself, are always seen right through. You can claim to be about the match, about just taking part; but we all know what that is; it's a lie. You, Howard Black, are a lie, and always shall be---
Howard Black: Shut the fuck up, Roman. If I want to listen to a Jew prattle all psuedo-intellectual about nothing, I'd go search a Bernie Sanders speech on YouTube. Now send out your "grandson".
Buddy Roman: You want my Grandson?
Howard walks to the ropes, leaning forward on them with his arms draped across them and the mic tilted to his lips. His brow furrows as his words come out in a low snarl.
Howard Black: Did I stutter?
Buddy smiles.
Buddy Roman: You will do.
The park lights suddenly cut out, plunging the venue into darkness. A moment later and they return with Crow in the centre of the ring! Howard backs off a few pace as Crow (dressed for combat) stands there, microphone in hand. He raises it to his lips.
Crow McMorris: First off, I want to thank you for teaching a valuable lesson last week. No matter who you are, or what you are. In this business? The only man you can trust, is yourself, and...
Crowd: BUHDEEEEEE ROHMANNNNN!
Crow McMorris: Truth. So now that you've decided to drop the kumbaya and the prayer beads, Howard. I take it this is the new and improved Howard Black. The one that forgets history and cries about events you've had zero part of. If you wanted my belt? You should have taken part in the tournament. If you want a shot at it now? Well...I'll have to discuss that matter with my manager, you know his name, right? It's...
Crowd: BUHDEEEEEE ROHMANNNNN!
Howard scoffs, walking in a slow circle around Crow.
Howard Black: Cute Corey. Yeah, you're soooo fuckin' cute. Mr. Coma Kick has his manager and his fans, so now he's shuck-and-jiving about for the merry clap of happy idiots.
The crowd lets out a loud boo as Howard turns back to Crow, his eyes locked on the Murder Machine.
Howard Black: For the love of God, cut the shit, Crow. I've got the decency to face you like a man, so the least you can do is drop the act. I don't want Scarecrow McMorris, I'm out here to face Corey Cane.
Crow stops smiling.
Crow McMorris; You don't get it, do you? I'm trying to help you. This is your one chance, your exit strategy. Either come to your senses, or I'll have to call Kaz and tell him why Howard Black is in the fucking hospital again. You want to make the wrong choice? Take a step forward. Do it, and find out what's changed. Because negotiations are over.
A wary smile crosses Howard's lips as he steps forward, chest to chest with Crow.
Howard Black: Yeah, that's just it, huh? Your real colors are finally bleeding through, and I'm not surprised in the least - you always thought you were better than me. Who the fuck do you think you are coming in this ring and saying you'll call Kaz to pick me up from the hospital when last I remember I was bending Bates over my knee and you were getting your face pounded in by Mikey Extreme? Do you really have the fucking arrogance to come out here and throw a threat my way? Even if all the goons in the crowd and on the internet want to fellate you, a good hard think would make you remember I'm plenty accomplished enough to kick the piss out of you. And, in fact, that's what I intend to do after Election Day.
Crow McMorris: You had Bates over your knee because he was a lard ass piece of shit. You want to talk to me about true colours? Go right ahead, tell me; explain to me how this is the real Howard Black trying to size up, while all those other times before when you were a sane human being were just a ruse to throw us off base. Because you, stepping up to me like this? That's a man who's lost his fucking mind. Last warning. Don't play a foot taller than you are with me. You won't like the outcome.
Howard smirks.
Howard Black: Lost my mind? No, Corey, I woke up. You want to come at me about how you can't trust anyone but yourself? Well, you're absolutely correct, and it came to me one day when I was looking down at the scars on my elbow where they had to insert the nails that helped me recover. See, when I think about what got me there, I realized a few things. First of all, the guy who abandoned me in that match to Joey Flash and Johnny Fly? That was Jay Omega, your boy in Pantheon. For all the little superhero crusades you guys liked to fancy yourself going on, you had no problem throwing someone to the wolves. So the first thing I think, Mister, is where the fuck were you to pick up your boy's mess? Huh? Here I was, thinking we were pals, but when I had that Love Is Pain slapped on, I didn't see any of you rush out to save me. Your stable mate's negligence and pride is the reason my career was nearly ended, and for some reason all of you wondered why anyone thought you were less than holy.
Howard pauses, his voice growing low and sharp as he leans into Crow, staring up at the man across from him.
Howard Black: And then something else dawned on me. Why was I tagging with Jay Omega? Because you took me out in the Ultimate Showdown with a blind-sided Roadkill. You want to talk about how it's everyone for themselves and then somehow chastise me for sending you a message? Well guess what, pal, how about you look in the mirror. Because frankly, my blood is on your hands, and I hold you personally responsible for what has happened to me since then.
Crow McMorris: I fought you in a match. You lost. Get over it. Dune carried you away the night you broke your arm because you two were Sentinels. Me being there? Why? You never asked for my help before, because you didn't need it. Occulo was there. You had that support group. Face it, everything you're saying now is just an excuse, after excuse, after excuse. You're a rat in a maze Howard. Just be a fucking man for once and ask me for a shot. If after tonight I have the belt? Well...we'll see....
Crow shoves Howard back and smirks; Howard doesn’t hesitate to throw a punch. The blow strikes the champion across the mouth, but Crow is hardly taken aback. He responds with a fist of his own, and the two men quickly descend into a barrage of traded shot to the roar of the crowd. Neither man seems able to gain an edge over the other, both slowly staggered and draining in energy. Security pours from the stage, running down the ramp to the ring and tearing the men off each other as they continue to yell expletives.
Christopher Morrell: For the love of ICE Beckman, these two men are relentless. Oh god.
Justin Chambers: The only thing I’d like to see about Relentless is a base pic of Mike Tyson.
Michael Stelzner: Guys…
Justin Chambers: What?
Michael Stelzner: *Sigh* Welcome to Election Day, folks. |
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Post by Results on Jun 27, 2016 20:39:16 GMT -6
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Post by Results on Jun 27, 2016 21:05:38 GMT -6
Battle Royal Michael vs Alex Richards vs Kyle Kemp vs Shadowlove vs Mr. Wright
Heston Meeks: The following contest is an Over-the-top-rope Battle Royal where the winner receives a guaranteed title shot at the choice between the UCI Television or Rising Stars Championship!
“Come To Life” by Alter Bridge hits the speakers as Michael walks out from the back with a big smile on his face. He holds his arms up, acknowledging the crowd in attendance who cheers. He walks down the ramp, high fiving fans on both sides of the ramp, playing up to them, getting the crowd pumped up.
Heston Meeks: Introducing the first participant! Hailing from the Ruins of New York City! At six feet, three inches tall, weighing in at 230 pounds. He is Michael!
He continues this around ringside, even leaning against the fans to pose for a picture or two as he goes fully around the entire area until he reaches the ring steps near the entrance ramp.
Michael jogs up the steps and ducks in between the top and middle rope, bouncing on one foot on the other side. He walks over to the nearby turnbuckle and tries to get the crowd pumped up even more as his music continues to play. Finally, he hops down and leans against the nearby ropes, testing their strength, his music slowly fading out.
Michael Stelzner: Relatively unknown prior to his huge upset win over David Sanchez!
"Better Than You" by Sam Adams hits the PA as Kemp makes his way down to the ring, sneering at fans before rolling into the ring and waiting for the other competitors.
Heston Meeks: Introducing the second participant! Hailing from Chicago, Illinois! At six feet, four inches tall, weighing in at 215 pounds, he is Kyle Kemp!
Justin Chambers: Kemp could have a big swing of momentum here that could go a long way with a win in this one!
The music hits and Taylor enters wearing his leather coat and gold chain. He raises his hands around and spins in a circle accepting the ‘embrace’ of the fans. He makes his way to the ring and waits for the match to start.
Heston Meeks: Introducing the third participant! Hailing from Brooklyn, New York! At six feet, three inches tall, weighing in at 235 pounds. He is “Mr.” Taylor Wright!
Christopher Morrell: The ambassador of urban bullshit up in here! Now it’s official!
The opening guitar solo to I'm Not Like Everybody Else by the Kinks plays then Alex Richards steps through the curtain, his doctor's bag in one hand, a boot filled to the bim with Zim-Quila in the other. He chugs his drink then tosses the boot into the crowd before walking towards the ring a serious look on his face with a hint of a smile making it seem like he's probably putting it on, which he is.
Heston Meeks: Introducing the fourth participant! Hailing from any place that needs pain, suffering, pills of Zim-Quilla! At six feet, four inches tall, weighing in at 345 pounds. He is “The Archduke of Mass Confusion” Alex Richards!
On the way to the ring he delivers his trademark hard high fives to the fans. At least those brave enough to want them. He wanders around ringside talking to fans for a few minutes killing time before finally entering the ring.
Michael Stelzner: The Archduke seems poised for something big at any time here in UCI! Could tonight be his night?
"PERSONAL JESUS” by Depeche Mode begins to play throughout the darkened Arena. A mixture of multicolored laser lights and strobe lights illuminate the Arena along with theatrical smoke and fog sets the scene like a Four Season Fashion Show. The Audience throughout the Arena stand in anticipation for what is about to be the "New" wrestling trend in the UCI.
Crowd: BOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOO!
Coming through the theatrical smoke and fog and appearing under the fashion show lighting is the one and only, "The Dynamic Duo" in all of sports entertainment, "The Handsome Half-breed" Shadowlove, along with his personal bodyguard/valet, "The Fashionista Sensei" Ms. Miyamoto, stopping for a second, taking in the aura of the Arena, pose like fashion models on a catwalk.
The Audience throughout the Arena begin clicking away with their cameras like the paparazzi during a "Hollywood" premiere. Ms. Miyamoto leads the way down the aisle with "flirty" confidence as Shadowlove, a few steps behind her, enjoying the view.
Heston Meeks: Introducing the third participant accompanied by Ms. Miyamoto! Hailing from Chicago, Illinois! At six feet, four inches tall, weighing in at 235 pounds. He is “The Handsome Half-Breed” Shadowlove!
"The Dynamic Duo" make their way to the squared circle. Shadowlove slides into the ring like a snake. Ms. Miyamoto, with catlike precision, walks up the ringside steps and seductively enters the ring through the second rope.
HER STRUT" by Bob Seger & The Silver Bullet Band begins to play throughout the arena. Shadowlove stands in the middle of the ring, spreads his arms straight out and bows his head, as if, being crucified on a cross. Jesus Wept! Ms. Miyamoto, exuding fantastic supermodel energy, as she walks with a stiff, erect, and apparently arrogant and conceited "Strut" around "The Handsome Half-breed", to a rousing "Standing Ovation" from the crowd. She lowers her RayBan sunglasses, showing off her incandescent green eyes, nodding in approval at such a Magnificent Specimen, Shadowlove, while tapping a rolled-up copy of the Wall St. Journal in the palm of her hand.
Ms. Miyamoto cradles up against Shadowlove's body, caressing his muscular chest with her fingers, raises up her RayBan sunglasses with her middle finger. Shadowlove raises his head, with his classically masculine and modern mussed, razor-textured, choppy finished dark brown hair. He shows off his fighters face, with an ice cold stare which radiants from his blue eyes. A malevolent, tight wolfish, whiplash smile, slowly appearing on his lips showing off perfectly white even teeth with a shit-eating grin as he strips off the black leather trench-coat like a Chippendale's dancer.
The ref calls for the bell as the competitors eyes dart around to one another.
Ding Ding Ding!
Justin Chambers: Big match here tonight!
Richards stomps away at Michael as Shadowlove takes out Wright with a big clothesline. Richards scoop slams Michael down to the mat with authority.
Michael Stelzner: Michael getting to his knees though.
Christopher Morrell: BACK TO THE MINORS OUT OF NOWHERE ON MICHAEL!
Justin Chambers: Look out! Shadowlove from behind!
Michael Stelzner: Kemp caught by surprise and eliminated!
Mr. Wright tries to catch Shadowlove by surprise as well and throw him over, but Shadow clings to the ropes and dangles by a thread. Wright, believing he’s eliminated Shadow, goes towards Michael, stomping out the relative unknown before noticing Richards standing in front of him.
Justin Chambers: Richards charging at Wright!
Christopher Morrell: Wright with the dropkick to Richards!
Michael gets to his feet and charges at Wright now.
Michael Stelzner: Wright side stepping and throwing Michael into the post though with hard impact!
Shadow, now in the ring, seizes the opportunity to take a swing of his own at Mr. Wright.
Justin Chambers: Wright eliminated by Shadowlove!
Michael Stelzner: Shadowlove with the first two eliminations here!
Christopher Morrell: Down to just three men now!
Michael Stelzner: Richards sneaking up on Shadow now!
Justin Chambers: Full enlightenment!
Richards smiles after leveling Shadowlove with ease. He lifts the limp Shadowlove to his feet and promptly launches him over the top rope, leaving just Michael and Richards in the ring. Michael gets to his feet, grabbing at his shoulder as he stares down Richards.
Michael Stelzner: Richards and Michael trading blows now!
Justin Chambers: Who’s it gonna be?!
Richards dips behind and goes for another Full Enlightenment.
Michael Stelzner: He connects!
Richards does his best to lift a limp Michael to his feet.
Justin Chambers: He manages to get him over the ropes!
Michael pulls on Richards, shifting his weight over the top.
Michael Stelzner: Richards is out! Michael has done it!
The bell rings as Michael recovers on the apron before rolling back in and celebrating.
Heston Meeks: Introducing the winner, Michael!
Christopher Morrell: Michael getting the chance now at the title of his choosing!
The show cuts to break as Michael continues to celebrate the win. |
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Post by Results on Jun 27, 2016 21:09:50 GMT -6
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Post by Results on Jun 27, 2016 21:15:17 GMT -6
Jay Omega Segment #1.
In the area that passes for backstage, we find Wentworth Updegraff Jr. striding confidently down a grimy hall, coming to a stop outside a small office door marked with his name. He walks in, but stops short just inside the doorway. The camera comes around to look over his shoulder, and finds Jay Omega stretched out on a leather couch within the tastefully decorated private dressing room.
Jay Omega: Oh, hey, Wendy. About time you showed up; feels like I've been waiting forever.
Wentworth Updegraff: Yes, the less time I spend in this silverfish infested hell hole, the better.
Jay Omega: Oh-ho-ho, you're funny! But looks aren't everything.
Wentworth Updegraff: What do you want, mouth breather?
Omega stands up, the smile disappearing from his face.
Jay Omega: Nothing major. I just want you to stay the hell away from my match tonight.
Wentworth draws himself up to his full height as Jay approaches him; Updegraff making full use of his extra inch to look down his nose as best he can.
Jay Omega: Because make no mistake; if you cost me another match so long as I live, there will be consequences and repercussions the likes of which you may not be prepared to deal with.
Wentworth scoffs, and rolls his eyes at the vague threat.
Wentworth Updegraff: You think you can intimidate me? You? I sat across the table from Jack fucking Welsh and didn't blink.
Jay Omega: Look, Wendy, if you wanna have a go, let's do it up. Any time, any place, after tonight. But for tonight, you stay the fuck out of my face, got it?
Omega doesn't give Updegraff a chance to answer, just brushes past him to leave the room, bumping his shoulder aggressively as he does so. Wentworth quakes in an exaggerated manner, an expression of mock fear on his face for a moment, before he rolls his eyes again at Jay's retreating back, and closes the door. |
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Post by Results on Jun 27, 2016 21:35:18 GMT -6
Shayne Sayne vs Logan Demon Joker
Ding Ding Ding!
Heston Meeks: Ladies, and gentlemen! This match is scheduled for one fall!
"Cinderella Man" by Eminem begins playing, and Shane Sayne calmly walks out through the curtain. He slaps a few of the several outstretched hands as he makes his way to the ring. Before he uses the steps he analyzes the fan reactions ring side. He finds a spot where the fans are going crazy, points to them, and starts running.
Heston Meeks: Introducing first! Hailing from Los Angeles, California! At six feet, one inch tall, weighing in at 200 pounds. He is “The In-Sayne One” Shane Sayne!
When he gets to the barricade he jumps on top and then leaps towards the fans who body surf him around. Eventually they put him down on the ring side of the barricade and he enters the ring. He goes to his corner and sits down with his arms on the ropes waiting for his opponent.
Michael Stelzner: This next match could be interesting; we have a double debut lined up as the In-Sayne One, Shane Sayne gets set to take on Logan Demon Joker.
Christopher Morrell: What in the absolute fuck? Did a twelve year old book this match?
Justin Chambers: Well, we have a backyard wrestling Youtube sensation taking on another "crazy maniac", so I'd say that sounds pretty likely, actually.
Christopher Morrell: Fuck my life.
"Walk the Walk" by Deuce hits the speakers, and the lights dim as Logan Demon Joker comes crawling out onto the stage in creepy fashion. His prolonged trek to the ring is scattered with erratic movements, as though he's restraining himself from attacking the crowd.
Heston Meeks: Introducing his opponent! Hailing from Your Nightmares! At six feet, three inches tall, weighing in at 217 pounds. He is “Prince Nightmare” Logan Demon Joker!
Justin Chambers: Heh heh, this dude looks like he's tripping hard. I gotta get me some of what he has.
Christopher Morrell: My guess is massive amounts of brain damage.
Logan Demon Joker rolls under the bottom rope and into the ring, then sits slumped in his corner as he waits for the match to begin. He doesn't have to wait long, as the ref calls for the bell once the lights come back up.
Ding Ding Ding!
Shane moves toward the center of the ring, looking for a lock up, while LDJ lunges up and out of the corner. Sayne ducks under an attempted clothesline, then hits Logan with a standing dropkick when he turns around. LDJ staggers backward, falling into the ropes and almost out of the ring. Logan manages to ctach himself at the last second, and reverse the moment to rebound back into the ring, and takes out Shane with a successful second clothesline. LDJ goes to drop an elbow on the In-Sayne One, but Shane slips out of the way and rolls to his feet. Logan rushes him as Sayne comes to his feet, and lays in a barrage of forearm smashes along the jaw. LDJ then Irish whips Shane across the ring, and follows along behind him. However, Sayne springboards off the second rope, and takes Logan down with a Shiranui.
Michael Stelzner: What athleticism from the In-Sayne One!
Justin Chambers: That was a pretty sick move, bro.
Christopher Morrell: Enh, I didn't hate it.
Michael Stelzner: Coming from you, that might as well be a glowing endorsement.
Shane bounds to his feet and shoots the ropes as LDJ groggily climbs to a vertical base, facing the wrong way. Sayne rebounds on the far side of the ring and comes back with a full head of steam as Logan turns around, but LDJ reacts quickly and drops prone as Shane jumps up for a spinning heel kick. Sayne recovers, though just barely in time, as Logan latches on from behind with a rear waistlock. LDJ tries for a German suplex, and the In-Sayne One compensates, and backflips out of the hold. Logan rolls to the side and comes to his feet, just as Shane blasts him in the face with a devastating superkick.
Michael Stelzner: Concussion on Delivery!
Justin Chambers: God damn, I'm surprised his head is still attached, considering the force behind that kick!
Christopher Morrell: Ooh, a superkick. Give me a break; that's the wrestling version of a handshake; everyone does it.
Deciding to go big in his debut match, Shane forgoes the pin, and instead heads to the high rent district. Perched precariously on the top rope, Sayne takes a moment to play to the crowd, soaking in their excited cheers.
Christopher Morrell: I will never stop laughing if this useless pandering costs this spot monkey the match.
Shane stands up straight on the turnbuckle, then throws himself forward, executing a double rotation Shooting Star Press onto Logan Demon Joker. The ref drops into position almost as soon as Sayne makes contact, and at this point it becomes academic.
One!
Two!
Three!
Ding Ding Ding!
Heston Meeks: Here is your winner, Shane Sayne!
Michael Stelzner: An impressive showing from both these young men, but in the end there can only be one winner, and this time that winner was Shane Sayne.
Justin Chambers: I wonder if he's got a brother named Justin?
Christopher Morrell: That would just be the icing on a cake of stupid.
In the ring, Shane celebrates his inaugural victory with gusto, soaking in the crowd's reaction. |
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Post by Results on Jun 27, 2016 21:44:38 GMT -6
Debut Segment.
Michael Stelzner: We have a lot of big match ups still to go-
Christopher Morrell: What the hell is this?!
Doobak Mota's Hukert Man Breathe Lonfer hits speakers and crowd boos. This is very Tripura song so almost no one likes it. I like it. But you will not like it. This song is famous in my country and no one knows the words.
Justin Chambers: I.. what is this? An Indian song?
Hajeet comes from back wearing all black suit with black tie and black shoes. He comes down entrance way with sun shining on him as if he is American Royal Prince. He is not American Royal Prince. He is Tripura Royal Prince but he is heel in America because the song is something no one likes and no one knows him but they boo loud.
Michael Stelzner: I don't know who this is, but he's huge!
Justin Chambers: That's a very tall Indian man making his way to the ring, but what the hell is he doing here?
Christopher Morrell: Well he can Pakistan' his bags and go back home for all I care.
Michael Stelzner: Wow, calm down racist.
Hajeet gets in ring and has microphone handed to him by very generous staff member. Hajeet thanks staff member for being so nice. Microphone could have been sitting on ring apron but they were nice enough to hand them the microphone. This is nice gesture. Hajeet is grateful but he still knows people hate him and thats why they boo. Hajeet begins to speak to crowd in attendance and for those who are watching on American televisions.
Justin Chambers: Well he has something to say, let's hear it!
Hajeet: Hello Americans it is I Hajeet, Royal Prince of Tripura. I come to America to show you how real wrestling is performed.
Justin Chambers: Well the crowd here isn't liking that!
Michael Stelzner: That's the loudest I've heard them boo all year!
Christopher Morrell: We've been doing this for a month..
Hajeet: I will begin showing you next week in this ring and at every show that I am here to win. I may lose. But I will win. I'm Hajeet and you can boo me but know I will become your Champion. I don't like your food.
The crowd begins to boo.
Hajeet: I don't like your women!
The crowd boos even louder for this statement.
Hajeet: And you're ugly and fat and you do not praise me! You should praise me Hajeet why you do not praise me!
Justin Chambers: This crowd is livid!
Christopher Morrell: Hajid has good points!
Michael Stelzner: It's Hajeet! He's only said it fifteen times.
Hajeet: I bid you farewell for tonight but be prepared next week you will see me and I will defeat your favorites and I will become Champion! I watch many wrestlers in my country from your stupid american wrestling shows but I know I am better. I'm Royal Prince and I will start from your bottom and be on your very top!
Hajeet hands microphone to staff member very nicely because they were very nice to Hajeet. The music begins and people boo. Hajeet walks around ring and exits up the ramp.
Christopher Morrell: What an impressive debut!
Justin Chambers: Sarcasm aside, he looks big and looks mean.
Michael Stelzner: We'll see if he can back it up next week!
Justin Chambers: Can't wait!
Christopher Morrell: I can wait. |
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Post by Results on Jun 27, 2016 21:46:25 GMT -6
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Post by Results on Jun 27, 2016 21:49:11 GMT -6
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Post by Results on Jun 27, 2016 21:51:33 GMT -6
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Post by Results on Jun 27, 2016 21:57:05 GMT -6
Jay Omega Segment #2.
Inside the small office converted into a private dressing room for Wentworth Updegraff, we find the man himself watching (something on Netflix). A knock at the door pulls his attention from the screen before him, and he pauses the program to go and answer it. Leaning against the door frame on the other side is a petite woman in her late 20s, with shoulder-length strawberry blonde hair, wearing tight denim cutoff shorts and a pale yellow camisole top, a playful smile on her full lips. Pleasantly surprised, Wentworth gives the attractive woman an appreciative once over.
Wentworth Updegraff: Can I help you?
Woman: Gosh, I really hope so. Is this your office?
The woman points at the name on the door, and Updegraff steps back to sweep a dashing formal bow.
Wentworth Updegraff: It most certainly is. Though if you're here because you've heard about my... talents, you'll have to give me twenty minutes. I just had a visitor.
Woman: Ah! Excellent!
She snaps to attention in an instant, the flirtatious demeanor replaced with an attitude that brooks no nonsense. The arm that had been hidden by her posture shoots forward, and slaps a sheaf of paper against Wentworth's chest.
Woman: You've been served.
Wentworth Updegraff: Come again?
Updegraff begins to glance through the paperwork, while the woman before him gathers her hair together, and binds it up in a tight bun.
Cheryl Stalk: My name is Cheryl Stalk, and I'm from the law firm of Loch, Stalk, and Beryl; I'm here on behalf of my client, Jay Omega.
Wentworth's head snaps up at the mention of Omega's name.
Cheryl Stalk: A restraining order has been filed against Updegraff Industries; should you, or anyone in your employ come within twenty-five yards of Jay Omega from this moment on, you will be held accountable, and charged with misdemeanor contempt of a court order, resulting in a penalty of up to one year in prison, and a fine of several thousand dollars. Should you, or anyone in your employ, violate this order in another unprovoked physical attack against my client, you will be held accountable, and charged with felony assault and felony contempt of a court order, resulting in a penalty of five years minimum in a federal prison, and considerable fines in excess of twenty-five thousand dollars. Thank you for your time, and please have a pleasant day.
Cheryl bowed her head slightly, then turned and walked away, leaving Updegraff half stunned, a slight grin appearing on his face as he realizes what Omega has done.
Wentworth: I do love a good game of chess. |
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Post by Results on Jun 27, 2016 22:28:26 GMT -6
UCI Television Championship Dustin Beaver © vs Kyle Cameron
Michael Stelzner: Ladies and gentlemen coming up next, after one of the most talked about moments in UCI's short history, we get a rematch from Lazarus, but this time, with much higher stakes.
Justin Chambers: We all thought Wentworth Updegraff would continue his dominant reign as champion, but in a major upset, Dustin Beaver reversed the Check Cutter into a Beaver to Belly to become UCI Television Champion.
Christopher Morell: Yeah it was all ponies and rainbows until that fuckboi Kyle Cameron hopped in and tried to get the jump on Beaver, only to get his face scrambled by his own steel chair. Seriously, how was this dude VOTED into the match? Makes no sense at all.
Ding Ding Ding!
Heston Meeks: Ladies, and gentlemen! This match is scheduled for one fall, and IT IS FOR THE UCI TELEVISION CHAAAAAAAAAAAAAMPIONSSHIP!
"Where Are U Now" by Diplo hits, then a spotlight shines at the beginning of the entrance ramp, awaiting the Beavs to walk into it. He enters the light, points to the crowd on the left and then to the crowd on the right.
Heston Meeks: Introducing first! Hailing from Toronto, Ontario, Canada! At six feet, two inches tall, weighing in at 210 pounds. He is the UCI Television Champion! Dustin Beaver!
Dustin stands in the ring after mocking some of the fans at ringside. His music fades away, and he’s busy leaning back in the corner turnbuckles relaxing, and not caring about his opponent anyways. "So Whatcha Want" hits the airwaves and jeering erupts from the crowd as Kyle Cameron theatrically emerges from the curtain. The crowd hurdling abuse towards him, he pulls a black Sharpie from his pocket, offering to sign his autograph for the crowd in the front row, although no one takes him up on it.
Heston Meeks: Introducing the challenger! Hailing from The Mean Streets of Downtown, Los Angeles! At six feet tall, weighing in at 210 pounds. He is “The Main Attraction” Kyle Cameron!
A random crowd member yells at him "YOU FUCKING DOUCHEBAG!" to which Kyle replies "You're just jealous of me!" The crowd continue booing him as he gets in the ring, trying to pull off awesome poses in the middle of the ring, even though he just makes himself look silly.
After Kyle's horrid poses, the ref checks both men for foreign objects, then holds the TV Title for all to see…
Justin Chambers: That's the prize ladies and gents, here we go!
Ding Ding Ding!
Dustin runs to Cameron and IMMEDIATELY CLIMBS ON HIS BACK!
Michael Stelzner: OH FUCK OH FUCK, BEAVER IS IMMEDIATELY GOING FOR THAT'S A WRAP! THAT'S MOVE THAT ENDED HIS LAST MATCH WITH CAMERON!
Christopher Morell: Beaver looking to make this a veeeeery easy victory tonight, and honestly it could probably happen.
Unfortunately for Beaver, Cameron manages to weasel his way out of the hold, but the desired effect is achieved, as Cameron has a veritably spooked look on his face. Meanwhile, the crowd cheers Beaver on.
Crowd: BEAVER! BEAVER! BEAVER! BEAVER!
Justin Chambers: What a turn around this man has made with the fans. Just two weeks ago they hated his guts, now I think it's safe to say they're all "Beavlievers!!"
Kyle looks to get quick vengeance on Beaver by kicking him on his side, but Beaver catches his leg, executes a leg sweep, and starts a vicious gorund and pound on Cameron. Cameron tries his best to block the onslaught of punches, but they're too much, and referee Adam Martin is forced to begin the 5 count.
One!
Two!
Three!
Four!
Before Martin can say five, Beaver gets off of Cameron and gives him a moment to catch his breath. Cameron gets up and tries to punch Beaver in the face, but Beaver doges out of the way. Frustrated, Cameron tries to punch him again, only to once again get dodged. Cameron is furiously punching Beaver, yet misses every punch. When Cameron finally gives up and let's his guard down, Beaver takes advantage and hits a gnarly spinning punch, send Cameron right back down to the ground. Beaver goes for the pin.
One!
Two!
Kickout by Cameron.
Christopher Morell: I swear every time this cunt steps in the ring, he gets worse and worse. It's like he doesn't even bother training for these bouts.
Beaver looks annoyed he hasn't put Cameron away yet, and climbs to the top rope, looking to get some aerial offense in. He leaps off, looking to get a diving elbow drop on Cameron, BUT CAMERON ROLLS OUT OF THE WAY, sending Beaver crashing HARD onto the canvas.
Michael Stelzner: Kyle saves his skin just in the nick of time, could this change the tide of the battle?
As Beaver writhes in pain on the ground, Cameron smiles, starts stomping on Beaver's head, eliciting thunderous boos from the crowd. Cameron stops his onslaught as the boos get louder and louder, and directs his hate towards the crowd in the Warehouse.
Kyle Cameron: YOU JEALOUS MOTHERFUCKERS! SHUT UP!
Crowd: JAIL BAIT! JAIL BAIT! JAIL BAIT!
Kyle Cameron: SHUT UP, YOU FUCKIN LOS-
Cameron is interrupted by Beaver getting to his feet AND GRABBING CAMERON IN A SLEEPER HOLD.
Justin Chambers: We're all aware of Cameron's weakness to submission holds, this could put him away right here!
But Cameron refuses to tap out, and tries in vain to kick behind him to get out of the hold. Once it becomes obvious Cameron won't tap to a mere sleep, Beaver tries getting on Cameron's back and once again trying for That's a Wrap, but Cameron falls backward, breaking his fall on Beaver's body, giving him just enough time to get away from Beaver. Cameron runs to the opposite side of the ring, where he sits in the corner to catch his breath.
Christopher Morell: Cameron's used up whatever energy he had left from that sleeper hold and wasted it trying to get away from Beaver…
Michael Stelzner: Beaver's going back to the top! What ocul he have planned, Cameron is too far away...
Beaver ignores Stelzner's warnings, going to the top, taking a single moment to make sure he has Cameron properly scouted, and leaps ALL THE WAY ACROSS THE RING...
Michael Stelzner: COAST TO COAST! COAST TO COAST! BEAVER GOES FLYING AND HITS CAMERON FROM ACROSS THE RING!
Crowd: HOLY SHIT! HOLY SHIT! HOLY SHIT!
Christopher Morell: Fuckin incredible move by the Beavs, if this doesn't put Cameron away I don't know what will.
Beaver goes for the cover...
One!
Two!
Thre-NO, CAMERON GETS HIS FOOT ON THE ROPE!
Beaver looks at referee Adam Martin in disbelief, as do many of the fans, as Cameron lays half dead on the mat.
Justin Chambers: Like the cockroach he is, Cameron just refuses to die. He's survived so much offense in this match, but how much more can he take?
Beaver tries to pick Cameron up for something even deadlier, but Cameron slaps him in the face for his efforts, eliciting more boos. This slap doesn't deter Beaver though, and he picks Cameron up...AND HITS HIM WITH THE BEAVER TO BELLY!
Michael Stelzner: BEAVER TO BELLY BY BEAVER!! THIS COULD BE IT!
Once again, Beaver goes for the cover...
One!
Two!
Three!
Ding Ding Ding!
Heston Meeks: Here is your winner, and still the UCI Television Champion, Dustin Beaver!
Justin Chambers: Aww yes! Beaver retained! Thank GOD we don't have to sit through Cameron as champion any time soon.
Christopher Morell: Imagine what holding a belt as important as the TV Title would do the kid's ego. I know I don't.
As Beaver celebrates in the ring...the image of Wentworth Updegraff Jr.'s face suddenly pops onto the big screen.
Wentworth: Dustiiiin! Oh Duuuustiiiiiin! Up here, buddy. There we go, listen up. I wanted to congratulate you on somehow stumbling your way into my television title. I mean, I have no idea how your match with what's his name went, so you might have lost it already. Sorry, I taped this earlier. I'd make up an excuse, but the truth is I just couldn't be bothered to talk to you live.
The crowd boos, and Dustin rolls his eyes. He starts heading up the ramp, but stops at Wentworth's next words.
Wentworth: Anyway, I wanted to congratulate you on that, and let you know that your fluke win against me has earned you a spot in the Updegraff Industries hundred thousand dollar tournament!
Dustin smirks at this news, and nods his head.
Wentworth: Don't get too cocky just yet. I promise you your competition will be fierce and tenacious. I also want you, or whoever the TV champ is right now, to know that I will be taking my title back next week on Overload. That's right, I, Wentworth Updegraff Jr., the Standard of Sophistication, the TRUE heir to the UCI television championship am invoking my rematch clause.
The crowd boos loudly. Past Wentworth pauses, having known this was coming.
Wentworth: Not only that, but because I want with all my heart to punish the pathetic piece of shit that thinks he can keep my title from me, it will be a leather strap match! So enjoy that thought gentlemen. I'm afraid I have some business to attend to.
Wentworth walks off screen, and we hear to women giggling, as it fades to black. |
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Post by Results on Jun 27, 2016 22:50:23 GMT -6
Howard Black vs Burn Out
Ding Ding Ding!
Heston Meeks: The following contest is scheduled for one fall! Already in the ring, Burn Out!
When the camera returns, Burn Out is already in the ring, pounding one metal fist into the palm of his other metal hand. The lights dim as “Lost Boys” by Death Grips hits the P.A. A chorus of boos immediately swells in the crowd as the beat kicks in and the snare rattles through the speakers. As “LOST BOYS” repeats, a strobe light hits the stage and Howard Black steps through the curtain, his hood up and head down.
Michael Stelzner: And here he is. Howard Black is out of retirement, and he says he’s going to tear the UCI roster apart to get a shot at the champion.
Christopher Morrell: Let’s see if he can even beat Burn Out! He’s got to be rusty as shit.
Justin Chambers: Burn Out could be rusty, too. Geddit?
Christopher Morrell: … Shut up.
His collapses to his knees and throws his arms to the side as he tilts his head back and lets out a battle cry in synchronicity with the scream in the song. The lights come up in a dim blue and white as he jumps to his feet and begins to stalk down the aisle.
Heston Meeks: Introducing his opponent! Hailing from Lincoln, Nebraska! At five feet, eight inches tall, weighing in at 215 pounds, he is “The Best That Never Was” Howard Black!
Howard ignores the crowd to either side as his eyes stay glued on the ring, stalking down the ramp with a look of cold rage upon his face. He makes his way up the steps and ducks beneath the top rope to enter, walking to the nearest turnbuckle and pulling himself up. He throws his head back and spreads his arms as a spotlight hits him, the crowd booing wildly. When he descends, he makes his way to his corner, pulling off the hoodie and tossing it aside. From his neck, he removes a silver crucifix on a thin chain. He stares at it for a moment, kisses it softly, and then places it around the ring post before leaning back in his corner.
Michael Stelzner: Harsh words between the Lost Boy and the Murder Machine earlier tonight. Now the question is, can Black walk the walk he’s talk about?
As the bell rings, Burn Out raises his metal arms in a boxing stance and approaches a disinterested Howard in slow, methodical steps. With his opponent half way across the ring, Howard pushes himself from the turnbuckle and steps forward, his arms hanging loosely by his side and his eyes locked on Burn Out. The Metal Badass Kicker throws a jab, but as the titanium fist approaches his opponent, Howard’s own hands snap up to his wrist as he turns to flip Burn Out over his shoulder and onto the matt. A boot immediately follows, blasting Burn Out across the bridge of his nose and mouth, drawing blood.
Justin Chambers: Jesus Christ.
Michael Stelzner: That technical wizardy and incredibly agility of Howard Black on full display. As well as that trademark viciousness.
A second boot snaps Burn Out’s head back against the mat, rendering him limp. Howard releases the hold on his wrist and circles the man, hunching down to scout him as Burn Out slowly shakes himself conscious and rolls onto his stomach, pushing up on the pneumatic arms to bring himself to a base. Howard charges Burn Out and blasts him across the skull with the Seventh Seal, dropping Burn Out to the ground once more!
Christopher Morrell: Do you think it’s possible that if someone is already stupid, you can concuss them to the point of intelligence? This could be the best thing to ever happen to Burn Out.
Black immediately rolls the American Badass over and grabs his wrist, looping his arm around to apply the Kimura. The audience goes quiet.
Christopher Morrell: Speaking of stupid, he knows there are no nerves in a metal arm, right?
Howard grimaces for a moment, applying further pressure on the hold before an audible snapping and hissing causes a crazed cheer from the audience and Burn Out’s right metal arm separates at the elbow.
Justin Chambers: Oh fuck.
Howard kips up, raising the severed forearm and hand in the air as a trophy with a mighty battle cry. He turns to Burn Out, raising the limb like a club before the ref runs over to catch him by the wrist.
Michael Stelzner: And it looks like the ref is saying that the limb now counts as a weapon since it’s detached! If Howard strikes Burn Out with it, he’ll be disqualified!
Christopher Morrell: Wrestling logic. Unbelievable.
Howard turns and tosses the arm into the crowd before dropping down and locking his arms around Burn Out’s neck. He wrenches him to his feet, throwing a knee to the chest of his staggered opponent before throwing him into the corner. With a kick to the head, Burn Out goes limp again, and Howard lifts him over his shoulder and drops him in the Tree of Woe. Burn Out dangles helplessly as the Lost Boy takes a few steps back before running forward and nailing him with the Seventh Seal again. Pushing himself up, Black retreats once more before charging for a second Seventh Seal, the impact spinning Burn Out from the turnbuckle to the mat. As Howard advances, the ref gets between the men, pushing Howard to the corner before turning to check on Burn Out. After a moment, the ref stands and signals for the bell.
Heston Meeks: Ladies and Gentleman, this match has been ended by a knock out. Your winner: Howard Black!
“Lost Boys” by Death Grips hits the PA as the crowd boos. Howard raises his arms in the air, his eyes down on Burn Out.
Christopher Morrell: Tonight was an absolute statement by Black.
Michael Stelzner: But we have no idea how he’ll fair against an opponent higher up the card.
Justin Chambers: Howie said he was going to tear through the roster on his way to the top. If I were someone in the back, I’d be worried.
The camera fades to black. |
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Post by Results on Jun 27, 2016 23:02:09 GMT -6
“Hot as Fuck” Jessica Buck vs Good Ol’ Ramblin’ Jimmy
"Lolil0_0pz" by goreshit hits the PA system and out comes Good Ol' Jimmy strutting his stuff. Fans go for a high-five but Jimmy threatens them with a fist, thinking they are secret government agents coming to take him away again! He hurries into the ring and raises his fist atop the turnbuckle.
Chris Morrell: Here comes this fuccin’ guy.
Michael Stelzner: Give the guy a break Chris.
Justin Chambers: Yeah… Chris! It’s not his fault he’s homeless.
Chris Morrell: I don’t care if he’s homeless, he’s fuccin’ useless.
Justin Chambers: Church bruh!
A woman moans and somewhere a rose squirts white goo, both of which herald the presence of Jessica Buck. “Nasty Girl” by Jay Price hits the P.A system as there is an awkward combination of boos and whistles for the “Master of Sex” that is about to appear before them. Syxx Gibbler appears out first, holding a bottle of baby oil in her hands. She steps aside so Jessica Buck can make her way onto the entryway. Jessica has a white towel that wrapped above her chest down, revealing a very nice pair of legs. She also has a lollipop in her mouth. With an arrogant smile, Jessica Buck steps forward as Syxx comes up from behind her, wraps her arms around her front, and pulls off her towel revealing only a pink bikini that she has designs to wrestle in. Once Syxx pulls off the towel, Jessica starts to grind her hips while caressing herself in the process. She finally stops and struts down to the ring, taking a few licks of the sucker as she ignores the fans. Syxx follows behind her with the towel and baby oil in hand.
Michael Stelzner: DAMN!
Justin Chambers: DAMN!
Chris Morrell: DAMN!
Justin Chambers: That chick is all kinds of hot.
Michael Stelzner: … And three kinds of naked.
Chris Morrell: Put your children to bed folks, UCI is making a porno.
Jessica climbs up the steel steps, but instead of getting in the ring, she falls to the apron and stretches out along it, doing a model like pose. She smiles as people take pictures of her with their phones. She takes another lick of lolli before laying flat on her back, and hold her left leg toward her face, and rolling in under the bottom rope. Jessica lands in splits. Syxx quickly joins her in the middle of the ring the body of baby oil. Jessica holds her arms out as Syxx squirts some of the oil into her hands and begins to apply it above her chest, on her arms, her stomach, and finally her ass, which gets a saucy expression on Jessica's face ...and one of somewhat discomfort on Syxx's. Once the baby oil is applied, Jessica begins to grind and caress in the ring again. She really drops it like it is hot this time. Before Syxx leaves the ring, Jessica pulls the sucker out of her mouth and leans in for a kiss. Syxx reluctantly gives her a peck which still gets a good reaction from the fans. But before she goes, Jessica shoves her lollipop in Syxx's mouth. Once Syxx exits the ring, Jessica continues to pose until the match starts.
Justin Chambers: Did… that just happen?
Chris Morrell: I.. I.. Can’t even..
Michael Stelzner: This might be the best debut entrance I’ve ever seen.
Ding Ding Ding!
The bell sounds and Jimmy is quick to burst into life, running at Buck with his hands outstretched at chest height which causes her to lean back into the ropes and forces the referee to keep Jimmy at bay whilst she screams obscenities in the direction of Syxx, clearly not wanting to lay a finger on this dirty, creepy man.
Chris Morrell: Jessica Buck wants nothing to do with Jimmy here!
Michael Stelzner: ...Would you?
After a moment of freaking out at the sight of her homeless opponent Jessica regains her composure and locks up with the bum in a collar-elbow. The two jostle for position but for a few seconds before Jimmy breaks the hold and grabs his opponent by the nose, twisting at her delicate snoz as he does so. This only serves to annoy Jessica though as at once she goes south and brings Jimmy down to the canvas with a dropkick to the knee.
Justin Chambers: Well, it looks like Miss Buck didn’t appreciate Jimmy’s technical prowess.
Chris Morrell: Who the Buck cares? This chick is hawt.
Climbing back to his feet, Jimmy soon realizes that his fate is already all but sealed as Jessica bounces back off the ropes and comes hurdling back towards him, connecting her boot into the very point of his dirty, unshaven jaw with a bicycle kick.
Michael Stelzner: Buck Wild!
Chris Morrell: … and Jimmy’s out like a light.
Justin Chambers: … R.I.P Jimbo.
As sure as the commentators had described, Jessica drops to the mat on top of Jimmy, trying to touch his filthy clothes as little as possible as she covers her opponent.
One!
Two!
Three!
Heston Meeks: Here is your winner by pinfall, Jessssssica Buuuuuck!!
She climbs to her feet having barely broken a sweat or struggled to catch a breath at any point in this short and disappointing debut match, much to the horror of the fans who were at least hoping for a wardrobe malfunction. The referee raises her hand and the commentators say their final piece as we go to another advertisement.
Chris Morrell: Successful first match with the company there, and in record time.
Michael Stelzner: If that’s the tenacity she brings to the ring every week then there’s big things in this young lady’s future.
Justin Chambers: I’ve got a big thing for her… right here!
Michael Stelzner: JUSTIN!
Chris Morrell: Pervert!
*Ads* |
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Post by Results on Jun 27, 2016 23:03:31 GMT -6
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