PROMO: Preperation

[Guest 5_moves_of_doom]

Taylor Nicholas Thompson saunters with a surprisingly serious complexion seething through his appearance, into his vacant hotel room, 200 square feet of loneliness. Darkness invades the room, as TNT steps over to his nearby bed, newfound United States Championship slung over his shoulder, and an excess glaze of sweat smudged across his forehead.

 

---

 

TNT rises to his knees, and hauls himself up the ladder, each rung a step towards the awaiting gold. Thompson climbs this ladder of success, and Flesher lies just a few feet away, crimson fluid seething from his head.

 

Riley: “TOM CAN STILL MAKE IT!”

 

---

 

Taylor slides the US title off of his shoulder, setting it on his bed, and proudly gazes at it, his first SWF gold.

 

---

 

TNT climbs…

Tom bleeds…

 

 

 

 

 

Riley: “HE CAN STILL PULL THIS OUT!”

 

---

 

He sits down on his bed, and begins unbuttoning his black t-shirt, taking it off, and slinging it across the divan also.

 

---

 

Climbs…

Bleeds…

 

 

 

 

 

Riley: “He’s the Superior One!”

 

---

 

The explosive one grips the gold and leather belt with his broad hand, lifting it from the bed, and retreating over to a chair, placed just on the other side of the room.

 

---

 

Climbs…

Bleeds…

 

 

 

 

 

Riley: “…awe fuck it, he’s dead.”

 

---

 

TNT sits in the chair, and swathes the prominent belt across his knee. He simply stares at it in a sense of approval, and self-satisfaction.

 

---

 

TNT reaches the ladder’s summit, and with the little liveliness that he still possesses, stretches his arms as high as he can, grazing the leather and gold belt that hangs just in his reach. Thompson steps up a rung, and what seems like bajillions of staccato camera flashes invade the ring, as Thompson unbuckles the belt, slings it over his arm, lets out a strident “KABOOM!” and limply falls to the mat a good fifteen feet below!

 

***DING DING DING***

 

AC/DC’s “TNT” erupts from the PA system, and drowns out any existing cheers directed towards Taylor Thompson. Funyon grabs the microphone, to make the official announcement.

 

Funyon: “Ladies and gentlemen, the winner of this bout, and NEW SWF UNITED STATES CHAMPION [cheers at the mere mentioning of a NON-Flesher US champ]…’TNT’ TAAAAAAAAAAAAAAYYYYYLOOOOOORRRR NICHOLAAAAAAAASSSSSSSSS THOOOOOMMMMMMMMPSSSSOOOOOOOONNNNN!!!!!!”

 

---

 

Taylor remains in a sitting position, and seems to be in a state of pure nirvana, reflecting on his past accomplishments, all leading up to this…a taste of gold.

 

***RING***

 

The phone lets out an abrupt chime, and TNT’s attention darts towards the telephone…

 

***RING***

 

Thompson sits, not moving a fraction from his tranquil composure, and lets the message machine pick up…

 

***RING***

 

“Hello Taylor, this is Stubby. I’d just like to tell you, Congrats on your new title.”

 

A broad smile forms across TNT’s stubble-covered face, and a general sensation of happiness can be spotted in his eye, until…

 

“However, I would like to let you know that I have granted Tom Flesher a rematch, one-on-one…no gimmicks, for next Storm. That is all. Good night.”

 

***CLICK***

 

TNT’s ears perk, up, and his eyes dart across the room. A snarl slinks across his mug, and he immediately arouses from his moment of glory. Taylor stands to his feet, and hurls his belt to the ground in a frenzy of anger. He drops to his knees, and plants his arms on the ground.

 

---concentration---

---mind is a blur---

---concentration---

 

He raises his knees from the cheap hotel carpet, and with a burst of strength, hurls himself from the ground and claps his hands together successfully while elevated from the floor, falling back down, and landing on both hands for a single pushup. Taylor screams in fury to count out his push-ups, and seemingly begins to train on the spur of the moment.

 

“ONE!”

 

---concentration---

---every night, a wrestler must wrestle, that’s what they do, that’s what they are---

---concentration---

 

“TWO!”

 

---concentration---

---they just go through the motions---

---concentration---

 

“THREE!”

 

---concentration---

---they hook an armbar---

---concentration---

 

“FOUR!”

 

---concentration---

---they throw a shotei---

---concentration---

 

“FIVE!”

 

---concentration---

---they feel nothing---

---concentration---

 

“SIX!”

 

---concentration---

---they must wrestle, that’s what they do, that’s what they are---

---concentration---

 

“SEVEN!”

 

---concentration---

---but once---

---concentration---

 

“EIGHT!”

 

---concentration---

---once in a while---

---concentration---

 

“NINE!”

 

---concentration---

---there is something, that drives a wrestler to new heights of effort---

---concentration---

 

“TEN!”

 

---concentration---

---that makes them give that extra ounce of blood, sweat, tears---

---concentration---

 

“ELEVEN!”

 

---concentration---

---whatever it may be---

---concentration---

 

“TWELVE!”

 

---concentration---

---pride---

---concentration---

 

“THIRTEEN!”

 

---concentration---

---hate---

---concentration---

 

“FOURTEEN!”

 

---concentration---

---GOLD---

---concentration---

 

“FIFTEEN!”

 

---concentration---

---whatever it may be, whatever will make them go that extra mile---

---concentration---

 

“SIXTEEN!”

 

---concentration---

---whatever makes them give that extra ounce of blood, sweat, tears---

---concentration---

 

“SEVENTEEN!”

 

---concentration---

---so that they don’t just go through the motions---

---concentration---

 

“EIGHTEEN!”

 

---concentration---

---so that they don’t just hook an armbar---

---concentration---

 

“NINETEEN!”

 

---concentration---

---so that they don’t just throw a shotei---

---concentration---

 

“TWENTY!”

 

---concentration---

---on August 5th, 2002, Taylor Nicholas Thompson got his first taste of SWF gold---

---concentration---

 

“TWENTY-ONE!”

 

---concentration---

---his first taste of pride---

---concentration---

 

“TWENTY-TWO!”

 

---concentration---

---and he will NOT let go of that belt, that pride, without struggle---

---concentration---

 

“TWENTY-THREE!”

 

---concentration---

---and struggle he will---

---concentration---

 

“TWENTY-FOUR!”

 

---concentration---

---for this is his first moment of glory in the SWF, his first instant of success, and as far as he is concerned…---

---concentration---

 

“TWENTY-FIVE!”

 

Taylor continues to complete push-up after push-up, not showing any signs of fatigue, a hate for Tom Flesher flaming in his eyes. An urge to retain his belt by any means necessary rupturing through his movements.

 

---concentration---

---it won’t be taken away any time soon---

---concentration---

 

 

FIN

[Guest 5_moves_of_doom]

Well, I suck at promos...actually...I've written ONE. EVER. So this basically is like...my first promo ever, so forgive the suckiness.

 

I felt too crappy to write my match, and I felt too good to do nothing, so I came up with this, just to add a bit to the Tom/Taylor match...

 

So, it's prolly pretty bad, but if it is at all decent, tell me the GOOD parts..and the BAD parts...

 

*looks at clock*

 

Man...since when is sleep so seductive? Night...boy is this gonna look bad when I build up to me loving my title, and then LOSING to Flesher...

 

Ah well.

[Guest Tyler McClelland]

Not a bad job, gives your character a bit more of a psycho side... I mean, pushups AFTER a match?

 

However, style wise, I liked it a lot.

 

Write more promos, whore.

[Guest 5_moves_of_doom]

Not a bad job, gives your character a bit more of a psycho side... I mean, pushups AFTER a match?

 

However, style wise, I liked it a lot.

 

Write more promos, whore.

Yes...think I should write a promo the night of Storm, where he's STILL in the same room doing the SAME set of push-ups? Now THAT'S determination.

 

-Taylor "He's Hardcore" Thompson

[Guest Tyler McClelland]

...must...get...better...so...'Cast...doesn't...flame...me...

[Guest Tod deKindes]

Since when can you write coherent sentences?

 

Good stuff otherwise.

[Guest Edwin MacPhisto]

I liked it. Stylistically inventive, simple upper-body exercises are ALWAYS intense, and pretty focused for an RPish promo. Simple goal, simple point: TNT won. He's got his first title. He's not letting it go unless you blow his fricking arms off.

 

One suggestion: though I liked the style muchly, 25 push-up/thought sequences got a bit repetitive. Tough, because really, who's gonna do 8 or 9 push-ups and call it a night? Perhaps streamlining it somehow, maybe not counting off every one...like, 1, 2, 3, 8, 14, and so on.

[Guest Ace309]

I liked it. It put a new twist on the TNT character and reminded my vaguely of the T 'n' T Connection promo where Tod was training TNT back in the JL.

 

Ditto Edwin's comment on repetitiveness. Maybe pull-ups next time.