The Better-Late-Than-Never 4th Annual Hayabusa Cup Match

Although we're a week past FMW's anniversary (September 25th, happy belated FMW you sexy thang), I wouldn't like tradition to go down the drain.

So... prepare yourselves heathens, for on 10.10.10 we shall crown a new king of FMW.


As per usual, participants will battle in four rings:

Ring of Valor - standard wrestling ring. Superstars are eliminated by being thrown over the top rope.
Ring of Wire - the ring ropes are made from barb wire. Superstars are eliminated by being thrown over the top rope.
Ring of Fire - the ring ropes have flames bursting underneath them. Superstars are eliminated by being thrown over the top rope.
Ring of Steel - the match is contested inside a steel cage. The first superstar to leave is the winner.

The four winners from these battle royals meet in the final round, a fatal-four way elimination match.

Since there's a lot of fours in there, and this is the 4th anniversary, let's make this year extra special, shall we?


THE PRIZE: Ever wondered what it was like to be in Commissioner C.G. Smitten's shoes but couldn't fit inside his size 15 clodhoppers? Well, the winner of this year's Hayabusa Cup will become King of FMW. This goes well beyond being able to book a single show. The King will essentially have unlimited power to do with the federation as he pleases, at least until someone comes along and knocks His Highness off the throne.


THE RULES: YOU WILL HAVE THE WEEKEND OF 10.10.10 - Friday, Saturday, Sunday - to post your promos for the tournament. Voting will begin on Saturday however, and last through til the end of Sunday. So be smart and get your promos in early (Friday)


If you're interested in this, or just want to talk general smack, please respond to this thread.

bye

It's time that Marie Antoinette wannabe-bitch Faith was beheaded. A king must be wise, he must be formidable, and he must not give a flying fuck about the happiness of his subordinates.

The Uncrowned King will claim his throne.

Class is in session, maggots.

Oh no. Class is in session. Now I do not know what I will do. The horror.

You fucking pansy.

Consider my name in the hat. It's been too long since someone (see: Alex O'Rion) with balls won this contest, and I can fix that.

Now the only question is do I defend the honor of my brand by competing in the flames, or do I defend my crown as the king of the steel.

Crusoe: Hey, Jeff.

Whitt: Yeah?

Crusoe: Wouldn't winnin' this be the best way to get GSW's name out there?

Whitt: Indeed it would! Imagine how amazing it would be to have a Gold Standard guy running FMW as its King. Hell, I could put on original GSW programming if I won this thing!

Crusoe: Exactly!

Whitt: Consider the Truly Talented One prepared to win the Hayabusa Cup! And prepare to witness the evolution of the revolution!

This is gonna be an intriguing set of events.

Skyler Striker wrote:

Oh no. Class is in session. Now I do not know what I will do. The horror.

You fucking pansy.

Consider my name in the hat. It's been too long since someone (see: Alex O'Rion) with balls won this contest, and I can fix that.

Really?

You? The penultimate bleeding vag? YOU? Have balls? Bro, you're more of a bitch than these people claim I am. It's OK, you may very well need a backup plan after Catalyst, or then again being the King of that cess pool known as NEW, you figure that this is going to be a piece of cake.

Newsflash, slutmonkey, It isn't. Otherwise you would have entered it once before but seeing as you've waited as long as you have, until now you've never had the balls to enter it so what makes you think that you actually have the balls to win?

Then again, being a hermaphrodite is a possible explanation to your ability to switch from bitchy man to even bitchier woman. I guess since Faith won it you can too, right?

Nah. There won't be any sort of feminist rally on this night.

It's only been a year, Skyler. And when I reclaim the Hayabusa Cup, your head will be one of the first I cut off.

Because, dumbass, I'm better than you. The only title you'll reclaim is 'World's Whiniest Man', which you will have held for the sixth or seventh year running.

Ever beat me in a match?

No?

Yeah, I thought so.

Until you beat me one-on-one, that statistic means nothing and you know it as well as I do.

Oh, you can count me in. This sounds like just the kind of all out beat-down I love.

Touche. Besides, despite your idiotic insults, I actually do respect you.


See you at the Hayabusa Cup.

Well, I'm going to have win this. I need at least one of these fucking things in my trophy case.

Fully requested John Derrick and Seth Omega in the same ring.

Old man needs to be taught a lesson, and the Next Generation Punisher is going to teach it to him.

And you need to be put in your place.

Hint: Your place is where you don't make up your own nicknames, Mencia.

You know you keep wandering around here like a stray dog and someone is eventually going to put you out of your misery.

That someone just happens to be pissed off and full of hate, he's also the Abandoned Champion and wants to beat that goofy looking mustache off of your face.

You have a medical condition don't you? Like a serious disorder, something terminal? You seriously must be physically and mentally incapable of saying anything that isn't a tired wrestling clique cliché, are you allergic to wit? Perhaps violent bloody diarrhea when attempting to be clever? That's the only way to explain the absolute tone deaf noise vomit that you are in vain trying to pass off as a personality. Hell, you're probably patient zero.

Omega's Syndrome. Sad. It claims the careers of all one of its sufferer.

Seriously, I'm sending your name into the Make a Wish Foundation.

Let me just get a pen and paper, ah, I'll just write it on a corner of this poster of me winning the Full Metal Championship, best selling item from FMWshop.com, go Full Metal, get yours today!:

"This is poor Sethy. He is struck with the terminal inability to entertain, all he wants is for someone to a shit about anything he does, ever. Will you make his dream come true?"

Tears the corner off, stuffs it haphazardly into an envelope, tosses it over his shoulder. Taps his toe like his waiting, a PA hands him and obviously blank piece of paper.

Oh, look a telegram, you know because I'm so old. From the Make a Wish Foundation.


Concerned Party,

Sorry, we cannot help Seth. Stop. We're just a charity. Stop. We cannot really work miracles. Stop. This violates the very laws of the universe, and we are cannot change the very nature of existence. Stop. We are not fucking Jesus. Give our regards to young Mr. Omega. Stop. No, seriously, Stop wrestling Omega, you suck.

Damn. I guess you're fucked. Don't worry, I'm going to be your biggest advocate. Every time this disease rears its ugly head I'll be there to raise awareness, by pointing out the trite, boring and insipid verbal refuse you so bravely try to pass off as insults. One day they will find a cure. I hear the Swedes are making breakthroughs as we speak, stunning new techniques involving changing the channel anytime your ugly face infects their TV's pixels.

Hold on Hope. Hold on Hope, little soldier.

Cute Derrick...really fucking cute.

You can make your little jokes all day long, the only thing that matters in the end is when I beat your sorry ass in the ring and people realize that you're nowhere near what you once were.

At that point you'll crawl back in your cave and beg for mercy.

Nah, I win, become King and I'll make it so you have to admit in the ring, every single time you wrestle that I am better than you, have always been better than you, will always, always be better than you, and that you were wrong to ever doubt me. Hell, that's if I'm feeling nice. If I'm in the mood, I'm make you write a song about your constant haranguing and carping at me is just an expression of your latent desire to see me fuck your mother so you could pretend I'm your daddy. Maybe you wrestle in a tutu under the name of Princess Glazed Donut.

Point is, you've hit that sweet spot of fucking annoying that you are as intimidating as Scrappy Doo and yet have the ability to grate on my nerves to point I want punt you in the teeth like Scrappy Doo.

Really, you're about a "Puppy Power" away from ruining FMW, and starring in shitty spin-offs.

Look at that! I've insulted you twice without sounding like I belong on fucking Impact spewing warmed over shit that was old in '99. Ironic. I'm supposed to be the old one, yet you talk like stepped out of a time machine dialed into "Attitude Era".

You keep thinking you'll win, and when I do win and you lose I'm going to make your life a fucking hell. Retirement match after retirement match until you eventually lose. Then when you do I'll make you do it in style with the whole fucking locker room saying NaNaNa Hey Hey Hey Goodbye.

How about that one, that's what? 08 or 09 when Old Man Ric did that storyline.

Geez. If you wanted my autograph you shoulda just asked, kid. This completely unprompted and frankly creepy and sad obsession with me is quite telling.

You try to get in the joke but it turns on you, no one's ever going to laugh with you. You're right it has been done before, to the point that it could related be an entire class of previously used ideas. Just like everything you say, fits into a single category or genus of ideas have been done before, like it has no particular distinct characteristic.

Damn, I know there's a word for it. It escapes me.

In

"What does a King's Job contain?"

You might have asked yourself this question. I know, because I asked this question myself. Because I have no idea who's idea it was to come into my federation and pass a ruling without the official seal and signature from the Commissioner of Full Metal Wrestling, the Honorable Christian Gregory Smitten.

I feel compelled to return from my self imposed wrestling exile to ensure this doesn't threaten me in any way, shape or form.

If you come back, do be warned that your stint in this Hayabusa Cup will end like your last stint did.


Eliminated by me.

This may or may not be my last hurray, but I am in.

Eh, I'll join this stint.

I'll consider this.

Perhaps.