PROMO: "Twenty-Four Hours."

[Guest Kibagami]

PROMO: “Twenty-Four Hours.”

 

O divine art of subtlety and secrecy! Through you we learn to be invisible, through you inaudible, and hence we can hold the enemy’s fate in our hands. You may advance and be absolutely irresistible if you make for the enemy’s weak points; you may retire and be safe from pursuit if your movements are more rapid than those of the enemy. If we wish to fight, the enemy can be forced to an engagement even though he be sheltered behind a high rampart and a deep ditch. All we need do is to attack some other place that he will be obliged to relieve…

 

-From Chapter Six of the Sun-Tzu.

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

Alex “Z” Zenon reclines on the single bed in his room at the Holiday Inn. He rolls over onto his stomach and looks at the clock…11pm? That’s all? Sheesh.

 

“Damn the relentless lack of a nightlife that is Kansas City,” the one-letter wonder thinks to himself, as he lifts the phone from the receiver on the nightstand.

 

“Room service? Yes, I’d like a pizza with…um…extra cheese, pepperoni, sasuage, maybe some of those red peppery things…and a six-pack of Coke. Could you send up one of those little yellow umbrella thingies with the Cokes? Thanks. What? Right, this is room 312…just put it on my tab. The wonders of business travel and all that. Thank you!”

 

Z hangs up the phone, content that his meal is on the way…and his thoughts turn to the next twenty-four hours, and the upcoming Smarkdown show at the Kemper Arena.

 

”It’s probably best that I don’t go out tonight, now that I think about it,” he muses. “What with the cage match tomorrow night and all…Lord, why did I PAINT THE FREAKIN’ DIABLO? I could’ve just put a decal on it…I could’ve plastered it with Midnight Carnival bumper stickers...I could’ve just asked him very, very nicely for a rematch…oh, I’m going to die. I’m going to die, I’m going to die, I’m going to die.”

 

Considerably less hungry than he was a moment ago, Zenon hops off the bed and walks over to the dresser, where a TV, a VCR, and a sack of video tapes sit waiting. “Thank God for Mark and his Tape Library O’ Doom,” he thinks as he pulls out a tape labeled "Bret Hart vs. Owen Hart – Summerslam, 1994." “Maybe I can at least die with style and flair as opposed to running around the ring like a loon.”

 

Alex pops the tape in and hops back onto the bed, remote in hand, and begins to study the match intensely…well, as intensely as a Carnie is going to study something. It’s not like he’s takin’ frickin’ notes or anything, he’s just watching the tape.

 

Anyway, five minutes go by….then ten…then fifteen…then twenty…with each disgusting blow, each crash of a man’s face into the unforgiving steel, each time Owen or Bret topple from the top of the cage and come crashing back to the mat, Z becomes more and more convinced that he really shouldn’t worry about explaining to Raynor why there’s two cans of spray paint on his VISA.

 

A sharp rapping on the door startles the one-letter wonder clear off the bed before he remembers his pizza and Coke, complete with tasteful little yellow umbrella thingies. Shoulders slumped, head hanging, mood generally gone to kaput after only twenty minutes of tape-watching. He opens the door, ready to tip the room service....

 

Wait.

 

Hoooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooold on.

 

Pizza?

 

Check.

 

Coke?

 

Check.

 

Little yellow umbrella thingies?

 

Check.

 

Room service guy?

 

Check.

 

 

 

 

 

…

…

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

Really buffed-out, tall room service guy with black hair, a scar over his left eye, and a rather familiar-looking cane in his right hand?

 

Houston…we have a small problem.

 

FWOOOOOOOOSH! THUNK!

=====================================================

 

Z awakens on the floor of his not-quite-plush Holiday Inn suite. The first thing to come to mind is…

 

“Gurg. Ow, ow, ow, ow, ow, ow.”

 

Holding the lump that’s rapidly rising on the side of his head, Z gathers himself up off of the floor and wanders into the kitchen. He returns a few minutes later, sporting an attractive and fashionable ice pack on his forehead…when he notices what’s lying on the bed.

 

The pizza is there. The Cokes are there. The little yellow umbrella thingies are there. Even the frickin’ tip is there. Z gapes. “This is not like Silent…wait a minute…"

 

"Don’t let that be what I think it is.”

 

Z advances to the bed, where, on the pillow, lies a fuzzy purple steering wheel with the words “The Midnight Carnival” emblazoned across it in hot pink. Next to it is an envelope, addressed to “Z”. The “Z” is scrawled in something that loooooooooooks suspiciously like blood…best not to wonder about it. The one-letter wonder opens the envelope, and begins to read the letter inside…

 

Alex-

 

Consider yourself lucky that the Clan is a fairly wealthy organization. If my Diablo had NOT been repaired and ready when I drove it out here, I would have had to crucify you, flay you alive, and mail your skull and heart out to Edwin and Raynor, press-release style, instead of contenting myself with this. I doubt you would’ve liked that very much. I’ll wait until tomorrow night for you to thank me for my generosity.

 

Now then, consider your foolhardy challenge accepted. I even left your tape collection in place, for the little good it will do you. I’d like you to hold onto this steering wheel for me- maybe you’ll get a chance to reattach it tomorrow night at the Kemper Arena. While your…”Love Rollercoaster”…is hardly in the same class as my Diablo, I think you’ll be most appreciative of the modifications I’ve made to it so far. Turnabout is fair play, you know. And I had a LOT more time than you did, Alex, to think of amusing things to do with it.

 

But I digress. I’ll see you in the cage tomorrow night.

 

Enjoy your last meal.

 

S.

 

P.S. - Do me a favor and tell Edwin I said, “Hello.”

 

The letter flutters to the floor as Z releases it…he puts the Love Rollercoaster’s misplaced steering wheel on the nightstand as he sits down resignedly on the bed. After a moment or two, the one-letter wonder restarts the tape, from the beginning, and takes a long, hard look at his pizza, his Coke, and his little yellow umbrella thingies.

 

“I knew I should’ve gotten extra cheese this time…”

 

END PROMO

[Guest Chuck Woolery]

Silent is my hero. That is all.

 

BTW, I told you this, but the line "I could’ve just asked him very, very nicely for a rematch…oh, I’m going to die. I’m going to die, I’m going to die, I’m going to die.” Yeah, that was gold.

 

- Mike Van Siclen.

[Guest Edwin MacPhisto]

Ee hee hee. I like this sooooo much. Three cheers for adding even the slightest bit of smirking levity into the character.

[Guest 5_moves_of_doom]

I WOULD read it, but my eyes have been temporarily blinded by something Thoth showed me: www.goatse.cx

 

-Taylor "MY EYES!" Thompson

 

 

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NOTE: DO NOT LOOK IN THAT WEBSITE...DO NOT...JUST...DON'T. I'M SERIOUS. I FELL FOR IT, YOU SHOULDN'T.

[Guest SupaTaft]

Great promo Silent. The carnies are not gonna be happy when they see the coaster.

 

-Taft

[Guest Drew_K]

Hideous levels of Promo goodness. Love how this whole thing played out, although, of course, I wonder what horrid machinations have been visited upon the rollercoaster. The one of love. Pizza = good! Beatings = Good! Bret v Owen = Good!

 

Really tied well together. Starting with the Semi Standard Sun-Tzu quote, leading into a nice justification for fearing Silent, without ruining Z in the process, and, of course, showing that even evil needs justice. Or in evil's case, payback. Keep on keeping on, S.

[Guest realitycheck]

Heh, heh, heh. I like it. The addition of another letter to end is a nice touch. But... but... what'd you do to our golf cart!? You fiend! You swine! Your head will adore the Carnival's mantle for this travesty! Or something!

 

Heh. Seriously, nice promo. I'm so honored I'm worth a Sun-Tzu quote.

 

-Z

Okay, so this is nothing I didn't say over AIM. But CIA is tossing out cookies for comments, and...

[Guest Beingz0wningj00]

Where's mah cookie?

 

 

and I put Raynor through the Golfcart... so you can't top that! BONG

[Guest Rabbi_wilson13]

Evil revenge = awesome.

 

Cage match = double awesome.

 

Good response promo, and I actually read both yours and Z's already, but haven't had time to do that. Now I do, so I'm going to do it tricky style so the response is below Z's on the board.

 

Great promo, and evilness is just all over these here boards.