Promo: Kill Your Chacter!

[Guest Insanityman]

OoC: Math homework, a fried mind, and an uber fucktard like me could spell it wrong twice.

 

(The JL’s newbie, Tim Dillon, sits down in an overstuffed black couch. His body slouched downwards as he uses a crystal goblet, with his Bushmills, as he swirls it gently around the glass. He, of course, realized that the goblet wasn’t meant for his favorite drink yet he has too much fun watching it swirl. Taking a giant swig, followed by wiping his mouth with the back of his hand, he glances up at the wall clock. He grins contently, as he was waiting for his appointment with Edwin MacPhisto. Nearing the point of nervous with the second encounter with his boss, he stands up ready to leave. He chugs the rest down, only like an Irishman could, and began to walk out).

 

***

(Edwin MacPhisto sits down at his desk in his portable office room. He slowly considers the next card as paper was flung everywhere. The stress was eating him alive, Raynor’s turn, the title, and Silent. He leaned back in his velvet swivel chair and wondered if he was a bad man. He grinned slowly as his green eye, yellow eye reveals amusement. “Insane Luchador… signed into a mental therapy classes, and therefore has resigned from the JL for now. But not before he decided to go on a treasure hunt, hoping to make more than the JL offered. Edwin blurted out into laughing and crumpled it into a ball. He threw the wrinkled paper and it bounced off the steel trash can rim, but it teetered onto the floor. MacPhisto rarely missed those, and he slowly concluded to blame it on uneven flooring. He then shifted his eyesight onto another paper, his pinned schedule (actually covering the dent the Insane Luchador made a while back) and he noticed he was arranged to talk to the JL’s newcomer. His mind kept racing, but he’s shattered into reality, as the door flung open).

 

Edwin quickly glanced over the man, around six foot tall Edwin assumed. He paused and chuckled at the black Emerica shoes with the Shamrock patches sewn above the toes. More shamrock patches are on his khaki cargoes, loosely hanging on his lower hips. His shirt was black with green font reading, “Stop the Fighting!” and on the back read, “Ireland ought to reunite!” Edwin gave the newcomer a smirk. Tim Dillon ran his hang through his fine white hair that was worn down near his eyes. MacPhisto had taken a “wild” guess that the man was Irish.

 

“’Ello.” Tim said shifting his weight to another foot. He was meeting a freaking’ WF legend… wrestlers make it look so easy. He thought to himself.

 

Edwin’s response (as he scrawled over a paper with his pen) was an open hand gesturing towards the black chair in front of his desk.

 

“Right…” He said in Gaelic and Edwin looked up in utter confusion. MacPhisto was curious if he had spoken in tongue, but he figured Nekura was the only one who possessed that talent.

 

Tim sat down.

 

“Um, Mr. Edwin, sir?” Tim began, the accent heavy.

 

“Edwin.” MacPhisto nonchatally comments and he looks up finally.

 

“Eh, sir, I was curious if I could be booked for next week’s show…” Tim requested his voice strained.

 

“That’s all?” Edwin asked as Dillon almost heard anger, “Sure.” Edwin’s reply was simple.

 

“No offense, but your bloody hard to talk to.” Edwin’s head rose again.

 

“Bloody?” Edwin said adding more British accent.

 

“Bloody.” Dillon confirmed and his nose twitched.

 

“Bllooooddyyyy….” Edwin replied with a grin, revealing dazzling white teeth.

 

“BLLOOOODDDDDYYYY!” Tim responded much like the Budweiser’s “What’s Up?” commercial.

 

The two burst out in laughter and Tim made a comment, “The Irish-English connection!” Dillon busted out his own dazzling grin.

 

“Stop all this blarney!” Edwin said jokingly, impersonating Dillon’s accent.

 

(Somewhere in Afghanistan; Insane Luchador, clad in his usual attire… now ripped and beaten crawled on all fours. He was worn down, but the idea of getting the treasure overwhelmed him. Clutching the map in his sandy figures he sees a crater, from the impact of the bombings, and he rolls into it. He soon assumes a fertile position).

 

Back in Edwin’s office the two man where joking around as the two where taking shots of some whiskey on the rocks. MacPhisto’s head shakes as he’s used to the settler strawberry daiquiris. “So, I can get a get a match?” Tim asked, perfectly sober. Another shot, another slamming of the small glass.

 

“Sure.” Edwin says he voice a tad slurred.

 

(Back in Afghanistan, Insane Luchador’s head popped out, his fair skinned sunburned. Developing a five o’ clock shadow, he notices a figure in the background. Not realizing he’s hallucinating he mustered enough energy to get out and stumble towards the sight of his ex, Jennifer. The true thing, a camel, looks at Luchador in confusion as it spits at him. “Don’t be pissed at me… I’ve changed!” He insists and he throws his arms around the neck. He then reaches forwards as they begin to engage to mouth-to-mouth).

 

Meanwhile in the office, Tim gave his farewells to Edwin (who decided Dillon was a good guy) and he left the office, content.

 

OoC: Yes, IL is now the least respectable chacter, but damn that was fun to write!

[Guest Renegade]

(Back in Afghanistan, Insane Luchador’s head popped out, his fair skinned sunburned. Developing a five o’ clock shadow, he notices a figure in the background. Not realizing he’s hallucinating he mustered enough energy to get out and stumble towards the sight of his ex, Jennifer. The true thing, a camel, looks at Luchador in confusion as it spits at him. “Don’t be pissed at me… I’ve changed!” He insists and he throws his arms around the neck. He then reaches forwards as they begin to engage to mouth-to-mouth).

 

Best fucking paragraph in a long time!

 

Still the fact that you have sacrificed your charecter kinda shocks me. Rest of the promo good too, as always. Looking forward to this new guy.

[Guest Tod deKindes]

What's a chacter?

[Guest chirs3]

I think IL has just discovered drugs...

 

Hee hee... I like it.