Frost No-Sells a Heated Toaster

[Guest 5_moves_of_doom]

Uh…before anyone brings this up…this IS pointless, and dumb…but I really felt like promoing, so I used it as an excuse to goof around. And I suppose it has a point If you REALLY pay atte--…well, it doesn’t, at all…but let’s pretend that it does, just for my sake. J

 

 

PROMO [Taylor Nicholas Thompson]

---

 

The shadowy, eVil [with an eVil capital V!] figure of Taylor Nicholas Thompson stands crouched outside a hotel room, a microphone set against his lips, speaking in a hushed voice, as if he were trying not to be heard. The door has no conspicuous marks on its outskirts; no signs of who dwells on the interior of the room. None to the naked eye that is…

 

“OWE!” Taylor’s voice erupts in a whispered scream, and the camera quickly juts down to TNT’s hand, which is stuck onto the doorknob…”There’s dry ice on the fricken’ doorknob! The cameraman hands TNT a small bottle of warm water, which Taylor promptly accepts, pouring the hot H20 onto his hand. “Whew. Yeah, I think this is his room.”

 

The explosive one suddenly focuses his view towards the on-looking camera, seemingly talking to the spectators at home as he pulls a few items out of the fanny pack that remains strapped around his waist.

 

“Good evening ladies, ge--…okay, I’ll be realistic when pointing out who actually WATCHES this show. Good evening handful of nerdy teenagers, and a few old men, and welcome to ~TNT’S SPY CAM EXTRAVAGANZA~…or something. I stand outside my partner, Frost’s hotel room, at 6PM in this warm Florida weather, just a few moments before Frost gets back from his daily sponge bath. It’s Thursday night, and in just one day, Frost will go one-on-one with SILENT! Now, many have made the assumption that ‘Ooh! But Frost couldn’t even take on Jay Dawg! He couldn’t even take on Ash! His cigars are really just black liquorish jammed into straws! He has to resort to giving dead birds to his opponents just to intimidate them! He has an ambiguously gay relationship with TNT! Blah blah blah blah blah!’ and then they ask ‘So how can he take on the no-selling bastard x2, Silent!?”

 

***CRACKLE*** “Uh…Taylor, this is Ted Polak…I’m spotting Frost coming out of the Japanese sponge place now…” ***CRACKLE*** a muffled voice pierces through static on a $2.00 “WALKIE TALKIE PLAYSET” wedged between Taylor’s belt and pants. ***CRACKLE*** “He should be arriving shortly.” ***CRACKLE***

 

Thompson, now in a bit or a rush, speaks quickly while hastily prying at the door lock with a paper clip. “So, I’ve embarked on a journey, a journey to PROVE to ALL of you naïve viewers at home, just how tough Frost REALLY is. At the bottom of the screen, you will see a meter.”

 

At the nadir of the screen, a small meter appears, the number “0” printed on it. Next to it, in bold lettering, “NO-SELL-A-METER” is printed.

 

“I’ve beckoned with people to realize that Frost can no-sell JUST AS MUCH, if not MORE than Silent…but they just won’t listen. So, as Frost’s partner, I’ve taken it into my own hands to PROVE THEM WRONG!”

 

Taylor’s ears perk up as the click of a door unlocking can be heard, foreshadowing that he has successfully opened the door. He swings it open and steps inside the room. Beanbag chairs scattered across the floor, ripped Bruce Lee posters on the walls, and a pile of nudie magazines about 7 feet high; the room is an utter mess.

 

“Ehrm…well, no time to explain right now, as…”

 

Taylor pulls out an open book, labeled “Frost’s Schedule.” He drags his finger down it, seemingly trying to spot something.

 

12:00am: Wake up.

 

1:00am: Late brunch with Sydney Sky.

 

2:30am: Train with Danny Williams.

 

3:00am: Stalk Annie Eclectic.

 

4:30am: Sponge bath at the oriental massage unit [the things those Japanese can do with their hands…]

 

6:15am: Return home, make waffles for dinner.

 

Thompson’s adam’s apple bobs up and down as he reads this, quickly whispering a “I need to get prepared” to the camera, and vanishing into the room, leaving any spectators flabbergasted.

 

 

…an entire 2, then 5, then 10, then 15 minutes pass, nothing in site at all…until suddenly…

 

***SCREECH***

 

Frost pulls up in an icy blue rented Escalade, stepping out of his car, and slamming his door shut. He notices a lime green Honda in the next parking space, thinking nothing of it. He continues to stroll up to his apartment’s door, whistling a Blue Oyster Cult tune, and enters his room, shutting the door behind him. The view switches to a somewhat hidden camera…which somehow entered the room…maybe through the window…or…some--…bah, wrestling’s fake, who the fuck cares how the camera got inside the room? Frost puts his room keys in a nearby change plate, slips off his shoes, and heads towards the kitchen.

 

***THUD***

 

…but tumbles to onto his back, hitting his head onto a nearby chair!

 

The “NO-SELL-A-METER” lets out a “ding!” and the gauge flips up to “1.”

 

Frost looks around in a dumbfounded manner, spotting around 10,000-20,000 marbles lying on the floor. His forehead crinkles as he ponders for a tick, but he immediately shrugs them off, only waffles on his mind. He rises to his feet, and grabs the knob of the kitchen door, creaking it open.

 

“HIYA!!!”

 

Taylor lunges from behind a corner, and Frost twirls around to meet him, only to receive a handful of burning, soapy water to his eyes! He ignores the soap water…

 

“DING!” “2” pops up on the meter.

 

…and simply glares with an annoyed expression at his usually friendly friend, who yanks a heated toaster from the wall, grabs a hold of Frost’s hand, and jams Frost’s hand directly into the scalding toaster!

 

”3”

 

“What the hell are you doing Taylor?” Frost roars, ignoring the burning toaster.

 

“Trying to prove a point!” is the reply, and Taylor removes a cookie sheet from the pantry, blasting it over Frost’s skull!

 

***CRACK***

 

…Frost stares.

 

”4”

 

***CRACK***

 

…Frost’s eyes narrow.

 

***CRACK***

 

”5””6”

 

***CRACK***

 

Frost, still unfazed, simply reels his arm back…

 

***CRACK***

 

***CRACK***

 

”7””8””9”

 

With one last act of desperation, Taylor pulls a crazed and starving weasel from his fanny pack, dropping it down Frost’s pants! Frost hurriedly elbows himself in the groin, and a stunned weasel slides down his pant leg.

 

”10”

 

Taylor grins at the camera, and raises his arms into the air, as if he were a referee, calling a goal at a soccer game.

 

“YES!!! HE NO-SOLD!!! SEE THAT SILENT!? FROST HERE CAN NO-SELL YOU, AND THEN SOME!!! YOU’RE NO MATCH!!!”

 

“…you were just trying to prove that I could no-sell?”

 

”Well, yeah.”

 

“…that’s possibly the stupidest thing I’ve ever heard.”

 

“Well, at least now Silent realizes that he has no chance. You no-sold marbles, a cookie sheet, soap water, a heated toaster, AND a weasel.”

 

“Yeah, and through that, we’ve learned that…you’re a tool.”

 

“…I guess it wasn’t the best way of showing your physical prowess?”

 

“No, attacking a man before his match…ESPECIALLY the other half of YOUR team, is NOT smart TNT.”

 

“Ooooooooooooooooooooooooh.”

 

TNT smiles still, turning to the camera.

 

“And there we have it! I think I’ve proven what I wanted to. I think the point is clear. Frosty here, SHOULD NOT BE TAKEN LIGHTLY. So Silent, you better be wary of the Touch of Frost…or you shall face the consequences of an Early Winter. BWAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHA!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!”

 

“…I’m serious, what the fuck was the point of attacking me?”

 

“BWAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAAAAAAAAAAAAA!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!”

 

“…no, really…I mean, you can’t be THAT dumb to really find attacking me in order to frighten my opponent logical.”

 

“BWAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAAA!!!”

 

~FIN~

 

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[Guest Ace309]

Oh my GOD. That had me in stitches. Christ, man you need to promo more often.

[Guest CED Ordonez]

Good job. Didn't know TNT owned a lime green Honda. That's funny because I thought I was the only one that...*looks outside window from his work cubicle at empty parking space*

 

...Ah, dammit all to hell.

[Guest Powerplay]

Man, TNT is the craziest sucker in the SWF now. No-Sell-A-Meter=RATINGZ~! Frost no-sell a weasel down his pants by elbowing himself in the groin=Phantom pains for the Judge. Hilariously good job TNT.

[Guest Kibagami]

I would be afraid...but....like....

 

You're crazy, dude.

 

S.

[Guest AnnieEclectic]

See TNT, I told you this promo would work

 

(Y)(Y)(Y)

 

-Annie

[Guest chirs3]

I dunno, Silent... no-selling a weasel IS pretty impressive...

 

Rabid Weasel on a Pole Match, anyone?

[Guest realitycheck]

<3 TNT. (Y) @ this promo. I second Tom, you have to promo more.

 

-Z

[Guest kelloggs]

I come up here to check out a few things and what do I see... the rarely done but always enjoyable TNT promo. While the weasel seems to be getting most of the props, I'd have to say that Frost's Schedule gets my official Franchisable thumbs up.