PROMO: The Luvin' Spoonful

[Guest realitycheck]

Whew... what a BEAST this thing is. This mother took 6 days of me puttting off to write, but in the end, it may just be the longest promo ever. So, um, enjoy and stuff.

-Z

(And mega-props to Silent for his patience.)

 

===

 

THE MIDNIGHT CARNIVAL HEADQUARTERS

ROOM 612, RITZ-CARLTON HOTEL

NEW YORK, NEW YORK

4:15 PM, DECEMBER 31st.

11:15 PM, GMT

AND A HAPPY NEW YEAR TO ALL YOU DAMN DIRTY AUSTRALIANS.

 

In the room, all four members of the Midnight Carnival sit, in varying levels of pleasntness. Well... okay. Three of them are fine, the other one is requisetely miserable. But that's par for the course, I'd say. Regardless; at one end of the room, sits the Canadian Intelligence Agent, in confortable chair, staring intently toward the centre of the room whist sipping a can of Canada's Finest. Next to him, lying down across one of the beds, is Annie Eclectic, who's attention is also focused toward the middle of the small hotel room. And next to her, on the same bed, sits Alex Zenon, who's arms are folded across his chest, and his face is a mask of general unpleasantness. He sighs, before speaking first.

 

"Okay, ELM... I really do hope that THIS "Emergency Meeting" is, you know, an actual emergency."

 

"What? You don't call getting up the night before last at 3am just so that Drew could announce that he completed FFX an important 'Emergency Meeting'?" Inquires Annie Eclectic, her lips curled into a smirk.

 

"NO." Zenon shoots back, sourly.

 

"Awww... but there was punch and pie."

 

Alex pauses.

 

"Okay, I'll give you that much, but--"

 

"Hey, what's the matter, esse? I thought you'd be used to this..." A recognizable voice speaks up, dusted by a familiar Mexican accent. El Luchadore Magnifico cracks open an eye. "...having done it before and all."

 

Alex's frown turns lopsided, and he rubs the back of his head sheepishly. "Well, I know, but... it still seems really odd, you know?"

 

ELM can't help but smirk, as CIA takes this oppertunity to speak up. "I really hate to break up a nicely moving conversation, eh, but why DID you call us here, Mags?"

 

"Ah, yes..." Magnifico steps away from his position against the wall, and clears his throat. "Carnies, I have learned some crucial information. As you all know, tonight is New Years eve. Though there will be many people celebrating, I have found out about a small group of party-goers of special interest to us."

 

Annie's eyes brighten. "You don't mean..."

 

The luchadore nods. "Yes. The Magnificent Seven themselves have decided to ring in the new year with much booty-shaking and getting down with their bad selves."

 

Dead silence.

 

"Yes, well..." ELM coughs. "Moving along, the M7 will attend a dinner before heading to Times Square for their partying." Magnifico stops, and then breaks into a grin. "Now, as the Midnight Carnival, I feel that we are OBLIGATED to assist them in ringing in 2003 with some Carnival charm..."

 

Annie and CIA follow suit with their own mile-wide grins, as Alex's frown almost becomes a smile. Almost. "A good old fasioned pranking, huh? I should've known."

 

"Then I can assume you are up for it, Alex?" Asks Magnifico.

 

"Eh... sure, why not? What are the plans, Mags?"

 

"Excellent!" ELM shouts. "Now, I plans of action drawn up for each of you, detailing what you should be doing..." He continues, passing out three manilla envelopes to each member of the Carnival. "Enclosed with our plans are the guest list and seating arrangements, in case you were wondering who all was attending from the M7 side."

 

Silence fills the room for a few moments, as all three read over their plans. Finally, CIA looks up at the World Champion. "You know, Mags, this is all great eh? But, I'm curious... how DID you find all this out?"

 

Mags says nothing for a moment, looking to the ceiling... then licks his lips and turns to the Agent. "Why don't you call it the handiwork of a helpful informant?"

 

=====

Several stories down, in the lobby of the same hotel, Frost waits in the Magnificent Seven limo, while chewing on a cigar... and sneezes. Before breaking into a coughing fit.

 

"*Hack* Dammit..." He grumbles. "I really need to quit these things."

=====

 

"Anyway," Magnifico dismisses. "Have all of you read up on what I need you to be doing?"

 

A chorus of acknowledgements echoes across the room, and Mags swiftly nods. "Very well, then. Come on, chicos... Es hora de desear a los siete a la Feliz Año Nuevo..." Annie and CIA arise and follow the Luchadore... but half-way out, Annie turns around to look at Alex. "Well? Are you coming?"

 

Alex looks up from his copy of the plans. "Mm-hmm. Just give me a few more minutes..." Annie nods and exeunts, as Zenon gives the guest list one last look.

 

6:00 pm:

Fasaki, Ejiro.

Flesher, Thomas.

Frost, Jackson R.

Hearford, Bill.

Herrera, Anthony.

 

Alex glances over the names, dully... before another scan of the entire guest list reveals another name.

 

6:15

Kibgami, Nathaniel...

 

Alex's lips curl into a smirk. It's going to be an interesting evening, indeed.

 

=====

 

6:15 PM, DECEMBER 31st.

A FANCY RESTURANT SOMEWHERE IN NEW YORK CITY.

WHAT? HOW THE HELL SHOULD I KNOW THE NAME, I'VE NEVER BEEN TO NEW YORK.

OKAY, FINE, YOU UNIMAGINATIVE BASTARDS. THINK CHATEAUX BONNE NOURRITURE OR SOMETHING.

 

...OH, YOU JUST WANTED THE NARRORATION TO STOP YELLING. MY BAD, SORRY.

 

In the lobby to said fancy resturant, Tom Flesher grumbles. His reservations clearly said 6pm sharp, set a table for five. It's been 15 minutes, and the waiter still hasn't come back. He grumbles mutely again.

 

"Good god, this is ridiculous. What kind of four star establishment treats customers like this!?" Flesher fumes. "I mean, don't they know who we are?"

 

"Well, the Matre 'D said he'd be right back..." Willam Hearford the Third, better known to some as Judge Mental, but never call him 'Bill' because it annoys him, futiely tries to calm Flesher down.

 

"What, 20 minutes ago? We were early to boot, Bill." Flesher continues to seethe, as Mental's face falls.

 

"Quite right, but--"

 

"Messieurs," Judge is interrupted as a Matre 'D finally approaches the M7. "I am very sorry that you were kept waiting, Messieur Fleisher."

 

Tom's eyes narrow. "I'm going to hope that's just your accent that made you do that. Regardless, be thankful I don't go RIGHT to the manager for this mishap. Do you have ANY idea who I am!? I mean, I--" Flesher is cut short as Judge Mental places a hand on his shoulder.

 

"Again, messieur, allow me to apologize. We... did not have as many seats as we first anticipated, no?" The waiter pauses. "And all I know about you, messieur, is that you have very odd tastes in cumberbunds..." The waiter nods his head down towards Tom's prominantely displayed tag title belt.

 

Flesher mutters something about "Damn frogs..." before leading the way into the resturant, followed by Judge, Frost, and then the JL contingent of Ejiro Fasaki and Fugue. Fugue dawdles behind Ejiro, staring wonderously (Emptily?) around the resturant lobby... before staring the Matre 'D right in the face. The waiter looks befuddled toward the Music Man, who gives his usual creepy grin in return. "Is there something wrong, messieur?"

 

Fugue smiles. "Your moustacche is crooked." And with that, the Music Man walks off after the rest of his party, leaving the waiter to his lopsided moustacche (And face). He puts one hand to the moustacche... and rights it.

 

Alex Zenon sighs. How did he get himself into this?

 

=====

 

Meanwhile, not so far away, in the kitchen of this four-star, fancy resturant, exquisite gormet chefs Larry, Georges and Paul struggle against their bonds. Their brightly coloured, rainbow jumprope bonds, and polka dot handkerchief gags.

 

"Mmph! Mmpph! PHHHMPH!" Paul protests.

 

"Now, now," Annie Eclectic answers, as if knowing what the chef just said. "We'll let you go when we're done."

 

"It won't be more than an hour at most, eh?" Her Canadian counterpart, CIA, adds, before both reach down, pull the three chefs to their feet, and shove them into a large freezer. CIA and Annie dust their hands, as everyone's favourite Meixan import rounds a corner, into the area of the kitchen CIA and Annie inhabit. "So you two have taken care of those chefs, then?" ELM seems satisfied as the two nod. "Excellente! Now... as specified in the plans, you two will cook up some "special" dishes for the M7, in the absence of the usual chefs."

 

"This'll be great!" Chirps Annie. "I've already put together a very interesting recipe..."

 

CIA chuckles. "Knowing your cooking, Annie, all you'd have to do is try and cook a normal dish to poison the--" *whack!* "Ow, eh!"

 

"Smartass..."

 

ELM sighs, and starts off in the direction from whence he came, but is stopped from a question from CIA... "Hey, Mags? You know, those plans never specified what *you'd* be doing this whole time..."

 

Magnifico smirks. "Well, someone has to tend to the other customers. Red peppers, hot sauce, and tomatoes on pita bread... es bueno!" CIA and Annie exchange wary looks, as ELM shuffles off.

 

"I've got a horrible feeling about this, eh?"

 

"Bah. C'mon, we've got cooking to do."

 

=====

 

"What the hell!? This is all in FRENCH."

 

"Messieur, it is a French returant..."

 

"Look, I don't care what nationality the food is, as long as I can read the frigging menu!"

 

Alex Zenon's face is a mask of pain, while trying to get food orders out of the Magnificent 7. Of course, nothing's ever that easy, with always-uppity Ejiro Fasaki at the table...

 

"Ejiro..." Judge Mental vainly tries to intervene. "Look, I told you before we came that the entire thing was going to be in French."

 

"The hell you did, Hearford." Ejiro grumbles, leaning back in his seat.

 

"Messieur, how about if I just pick something out of the menu for you? Surely, that would--"

 

"Now hold on there just a second, Frenchie Martin!" Fasaki snaps! "I know my French cusine, and I know what weird ass things you people put in your food! The very second I let you have my menu, you'll give me something with... SNAILS! Or FROGS!" Ejiro continues raving, "I'll have you know, I was European... EJIROPEAN champion! Champion of your country! Your entire pitiful continent! And I--"

 

"And I'm from Europe." Frost barks, slamming down his menu, obviously having heard enough. "Now, either you damn well order something, or I'll pick it out MYSELF!"

 

Ejiro looks at the massive figure of Frost, who has now risen out of his seat... and meekly retreats into a ball in his chair. "Just... gimme' the damn snails." Alex mouths a 'thank god', as he collects Ejiro's menu, and looks past a sighing Judge Mental toward Tom Flesher, who's face is firmly embedded in his hands. "You, messieur?"

 

Tom barely brings his face out of his hands. "Just get me another drink." Alex smirks, nods, scribbles something down, and then faces Fugue. "And you?"

 

Fugue looks down from his menu, that same empty look in his eyes, and then clears his through. "Oui, Oui, j'aurai duck l'orange avec de la salade ceasar -- tiens le viniger un côté -- et de potage français d'oignon... peut-être avec un Panter Rose gentil pour boire, no?"

 

Silence. Everyone at the table stares at Fugue, who returns a creepy smile.

 

"Uh... oui, messieur." Alex nods, briskly collecting Fugue's menu. "I shall be back shortly. Please... um... enjoy the breadsticks?" And with that, Alex bows, and backs away toward the kitchen.

 

Ejiro Fasaki grumps, and turns to Tom Flesher. "I told you we should've gone to a hamburger place."

 

=====

 

"Let me see..." Annie Eclectic, donning an apron and a chefs hat, looks down the long, stainless steel rack, bustling with various ingredients. She looks at the empty basin sitting on the counter before her. And then back at the rack. Annie cracks her knuckles, and then reaches up for a random jar...

 

"Cloves, eh?" In a single motion, she unscrews the lid of the jar, and dumps it into the basin. She reaches up for another...

 

"Cayanne pepper." In a mirror of the same motion, she dumps the contents into the basin. She reaches up again.

 

"Wasabi beans." Unscrew, unscrew, unscrew... *dump*

 

"Vegtable oil." Unscrew, unscrew, unscrew... *pour*

 

"Nutmeg." Unscrew, unscrew, unscrew... *dump*

 

"Ginger." Unscrew, unscrew, unscrew... *dump*

 

"Oregeno." Unscrew, unscrew, unscrew... *dump*

 

Annie dusts off her hands. "I'd say that's enough of those. Now, for those special ingredients CIA gave me..." Annie pulls a plastic shopping bag near her, and rifles through it. "Let's see... two eggs..." *crackcracksplush* "...one half full can of Molsen..." *glugglugglugsplash* "...one severd fish head..." *splut* "annnnnd of course, two tablespoons of ex-lax." Annie smirks as she drops the final ingrident into the vile looking concauction, and then reaches over for a mixmaster. "Mix well..." She flips the mixing machine on, and savages her creation with it. After sending enough small drops of brown splattering around the kitchen, she picks up the basin and hands it to the Canadian Intelligence Agent, who stands next to a waiting oven.

 

"And finally, set to boil at maximum temprature!"

 

CIA takes the basin, and looks into it. "This is absolutely disguting, eh?"

 

"I try." Annie bows. CIA gives her a look.

 

"Well, I do have to ask, then. How, exactly, is this supposed to look like anything they order, eh?"

 

"Well, it isn't." Admits Annie. "But much like the Olive Garden, everything on the menu here is kept frozen, only to be thawed out when someone wants it. We'll just use this stuff as seasoning."

 

CIA blinks. "Makes you wonder how this place got rated ****... and also, how come no-one told ELM that?"

 

Annie shrugs, and then turns her head as Alex Zenon wanders into the kitchen. Glowering. "If Ejiro Fasaki ever gets bumped, remind me to kill him." Alex grumbles, then looks at Annie and CIA. "Okay... have you got our soup of doom whipped up?"

 

Annie and CIA both nod. CIA looks at the basin, which sits on a stove element. "Double, double, toil and trouble, fire burn and cauldroun bubble..."

 

Alex leans over the stove... and nods. "Well, looks good to me."

 

"That's what we like to hear, eh? Now, one down, four more to go..." And with that, the two Carnie chefs set to work...

 

=====

 

7:07PM, DECEMBER 31st.

 

Alex grumbles. He's been running drinks to the M7's table for an eternity, now. He was a little worried... all the drinks had been spiked with laxative, but he didn't think anyone had anticipated the M7 drinking this much. It shouldn't have taken the MC this long to get all the meals prepared. He also wondered if anyone else had noticed Frost kept excusing himself everytime a drink came. Sighing resignedly, Alex leans against the kitchen wall, looking across the resturant...

 

...and there, sitting at a table directly across from him, sits a man he's been trying to locate all night. Right in a very obvious place, from the kitchen he'd been entering and exiting all night. Figures. Alex stares intently, as Nathaniel Kibagami and Angel sit and converse, their mouths moving but their words becoming a wash among the other conversation in the resturant. Alex can't even begin to wonder what they're saying... suddenly, Nathan turns his head, and locks eyes with Alex.

 

Alex gags.

 

But Kibagami... Kibagami only smriks, turns his head back to Angel, and says one more thing... beofore reaching into the inside pocket of his jacket, pulling out a package of cigarettes, and walking to the back of the resturant. Alex doesn't even think on it, quickly stepping to follow him...

 

"Hey, Alex... Alex!" Zenon stops, and turns around to face the Canadian Intelligence Agent. "We finally got the food done. I think you best get it to the M7 now."

 

"Look, CIA," Alex starts. "Something's come up. I can't do it."

 

Pause.

 

"What do you mean? What is it?"

 

"I... can't tell you right now. Look, can you get ELM to do it?"

 

"Well, I could try, eh, but--"

 

"Good!" Says Alex, taking of the lame fake mustache and handing it to CIA. "I'll be quick... I hope."

 

CIA blinks, as Alex takes off, running toward the back door... the Agent shrugs, and steps back inside the kitchen.

 

=====

 

*clink...*

 

*clink...*

 

...

 

*fwoom!*

 

The Zippo lighter sparks, after several tries, providing a flame just long enough to lite a cigarette. Nathaniel Kibagami breathes in a puff of the cigarette, and then exhales, sending a mix of smoke and breath visibly up into the night air. Nathan remains motionless, his eyes fixed on the stars, even as the fire exit to the resturant sqeaks open, and then slams shut. Nathan speaks without even turning to ackowledge the other man.

 

"You know, I was wondering how long you'd put this off."

 

No response. Nathan takes another puff off his cigarette.

 

"Cat got your tongue, Alex? Hmph." Nathan exhales, and then sets his hand at his side. "You know, if it makes you feel any better, I didn't come back to torment you. I came back to try and help my brother."

 

"You came back for Edwin, Silent." The acid almost drips off of Zenon's tongue as he says that name. "Don't even try to mask your intentions." Nathan snorts, as Alex continues. "And you... how can you say that? you came back to torment your brother. Don't you think he's had enough? He lost himself completely in his hatred for you. His friends, his stature, his identity. All because little Nathaniel couldn't stay away, and had to extract revenge because he finally got the better of you."

 

Nathaniel smirks, although Alex can't see it. "And the irony, of course, is that you're the one saying this." Alex seethes. "Don't lecture me on Yuuichiro, Zenon. He's brought about his own shame and destruction because he wants nothing more than the fight. My brother, yes... but his problems are his own, and I washed my hands of them before the last Pay-Per-View."

 

Silence hangs in the air for a moment, before Alex speaks again. "You know, I think Orochi was the smart one. I think he was on to something... what with giving Angel the Scum Gale and all."

 

Immediately, Nathan's demanour hardens, "Audacious, aren't you? Don't bring her into this, Alex!" he barks. "She's got nothing to do with Orochi, and nothing to do with you and I... hell, I don't even have anything to do with you, Zenon. Edwin isn't HERE anymore, you don't have to pretend to be brave!"

 

Alex tremebles. "Don't... have anything to do with me? You have EVERYTHING to do with me! If it weren't for you, Raynor and Edwin might still be here!"

 

"Raynor was smart," Says Nathan, "And Edwin is a coward. He went running the first chance he got. Can't you see that?"

 

"Edwin... is not... a COWARD. It's YOUR fault he's gone! YOURS!" Alex screams! "And as far as your girl is concerned... what have you done to deserve her? What have you done to deserve love? Affection? You don't even know what those words mean! You're a monster! All you know is hate... destruction! I won't forgive you for what you did... I hate you for what you've done!"

 

Alex words echo through the night, as he breathes heavily. Nathan takes another puff off his cigarette, before dropping it to the ground, and crushing it under his foot. "I have beaten you twice before, Alex. Brutally. Bloodily. I threw you around like a small child, beat you from pillar to post... did you even get any offence in at all?" Nathan smirks, as Alex seethes. "But... if you want to fight me that badly, so be it." Nathan finally turns to face Zenon. "Right here. Right now."

 

=====

 

"And messieurs, your fine cusine has finally arrived!" Precariously balancing several trays of delightful Carnival concauctions in his hands, El Luchadore Magnifico walks to the M7 table, sporting a rather lame looking suit, an even lamer fake mustache, and a French accent that would send brave men fleeing.

 

"About damn time." Ejiro Fasaki barks, holding a knife and fork in either hand. A chorus of ackowledgements echoes across the M7 table, as the other four also pick up their utensils. ELM serves out the dishes to their respective orderee's, and looks on, nervously, as they all stare at the slightly-less-than-gormet looking food.

 

ELM tugs at his collar.

 

Everyone sans Frost shrugs and digs in. ELM sighs with relief, and begins to walk off...

 

"Waiter." Beckons Tom Flesher, forcing ELM to turn around and walk back.

 

"Yes, Messieur...?"

 

"This Filet Mignon... is AWFUL!" Flesher complains, spitting the bite he was chewing on back to his plate. "It's cooked damn near MEDIUM! I specifically requested medium WELL. Did you thaw this out when I ordered it, or what!?" Flesher continues to rant. "And for Christ's sake, who MADE this seasoning? It tastes terrible!"

 

"I'm very sorry, but--"

 

"But NOTHING!" Tom bellows! "You've done everything in your power to ruin my evening! You seated us late, you took forever to get our orders, your bartender sucks and to top if all off, the food is terrible! I DEMAND you go and get the manager!"

 

"Messieur, I--"

 

"NOW!" Sharply, Tom rips his arm up, grazing ELM's face and pointing to the kitchen. He looks back at ELM... and notices something different. He looks at his extended finger... and sees the mustache that formerly resided on ELM's face."

 

"Mierda."

 

Flesher's eyes narrow. "GET HIM!"

 

 

=====

 

Back in the alley, Alex stares down Nathan, considering his offer for a fight. Right then. Right there. Alex opens his mouth.

 

"...Nathan, you know what? I'd rather not get beaten in a dark alley by some psychopath with a pipe... or a steel tipped cane, or whatever."

 

Nathaniel smirks. "Running away just like Edwin, then?"

 

"No, I'm..."

 

*crash!*

 

*scream!*

 

*bang!*

 

"Ayuda!"

 

"Coming!"

 

"On the way, eh!"

 

*CRASH!*

 

"Another Carnival pranking gone awry, eh?" Inquires Nathan.

 

Alex sighs, and scrathes his head. "We really haven't had a great success rate since Raynor stopped co-ordinating everything... I guess I should go bail them out." Alex's face hardens, and he stares Nathan down. "This isn't over, Kibagami. Not yet by a longshot."

 

And with that, Zenon rounds the corner of the resturant, leaving Nathan alone in teh alley.

 

"I'm sure. I wait with bated breath, Alex..."

 

=====

 

Now with Annie and CIA at his side, ELM stares down Tom Flesher, as the four other M7 members accompanying him wait at his flanks. "You're outnumbered, ELM! Five to three!" Tom states the obvious.

 

"We aren't leaving without a fight, esse. No-one foils a Carnival prank!"

 

Tom smirks. "Ask Raynor about that. I believe I've done it before."

 

ELM blanches. "Still!"

 

"Regardless, Magnifico... I can't take your title here, but I can cripple your stable. M7! FORM RANK!" And with that battle cry, Frost stands imposingly on one side of Flesher, as Judge Mental flanks the other, waiting in a ready crouch. In front of him, Ejiro and Fugue drop to their knees, and strike fear-imposing poses!

 

"Together, we are the Magnificent Seven!" Ejiro annouces! "Negative two, but still! Our power is awesome, and we can't be defeated!" Ejiro and Fugue swtich poses, looking really stupid... and then suddenly blanch, and fall over, clutching at their stomachs.

 

Annie and CIA chuckles, as ELM raises an eyebrow. "Flesher, would you care to speculate exactly how we pranked you?"

 

Tom turns white as well, and feels that uneasy rising of queasyness from his gut. "...bastard. I should've guessed... ugh..." And with that, Flesher falls over, trying to retain his dignity by not vomiting (Unlike Fugue and Ejiro.)

 

CIA surveys the damage, as all five men collapse to the ground. "Well, they're all down now, eh? Though, we still need to get out of here." CIA looks around at the other occupants of the resturnat, who's faces are masks of emotions raging from shock to outrage.

 

And at that moment, fate chooses to intervene, in the form of a car horn. Tuned to "Coo Ca Racha". The sound of sqealing tires on the outside street of the resturant alert the Carnies to the presence of the Love Rollercoaster, which swerves into position outside the front window, Alex at the wheel! The three Carnies on the inside look to each other, nod, and jump over the convusling bodies of the M7, on to their table, and out the window in a crescendo of shattering glass! ELM makes a semi-perfect 1.3 point landing in the passanger seat, as Annie lands on the roof, and CIA hops on the back!

 

"Nice timing, eh?"

 

"All in the experience, CIA. All in the experience." Alex smirks. "Everyone buckled... um..." Zenon gives a quick look around the LC, realizing the lack of seatbelts. "Right. Stupid question." And with that, Alex throws the shift into gear, flicks on the radio, and puts the pedal to the floor, as the supercharged golf cart tears off into the night, completing the Midnight Carnival's dramatic (sort of) escape.

 

Travelling down the streets of New York, back to their hotel, ELM turns to Alex... "Esse, you know what I just realized?"

 

"What?"

 

ELM grins. "Those bastards didn't tip us."

 

 

~FIN

[Guest crusen86]

(Y)

[Guest TheAntipop]

I've read a lot of literature in my day, and let me tell you, this is perhaps the greatest piece of writing anyone has ever written. Better than War and Peace, better than the Lord of the Rings (which isn't hard because LotR sucks more cock than TNT). Congrats, Z. Shakespear is now your bitch.

 

And btw, Crow's mum takes it up the ass. (Y).

[Guest Kibagami]

Fucking brilliant, Z. Even without the EPICNESS~ of this promo, there's lots to love here. The traditional Carnie interaction is present, and the segue into the conversation between Alex and Nathan is very well done.

 

And they escape in a golf cart.

 

It's brilliant, I tell you. Brilliant.

 

K.

[Guest chirs3]

Just in case anyone missed it...

 

"We really haven't had a great success rate since Raynor stopped co-ordinating everything..."

 

 

Seriously, superb promo - much attention to past history, pranking and otherwise, and some good laughs to boot. Zed = lean mean promo machine... except he's not really mean or a machine... because he-... yea...

[Secret Agent 0]

Brilliant, Z! Reminds me of some past promos which = sweet ass promo!

[Guest TheAntipop]

Oh, sorry Z, I spoke too soon. This is a much better promo.

[Guest realitycheck]

...

 

::cries::

 

 

::takes his ball and goes home::

 

-Z

[Guest 5_moves_of_doom]

Ow... long-ness.

 

...El Perfecto promo though, but that's expected from the one-letter-wonder these days, eh?

[Guest El Luchadore Magnifico]

Bwahahaha, excellent.

 

Wonderfully written and executed, Z. We haven't had a prank of that caliber in some time.

[Guest Goodear]

You better pray I never get bumped Z... because you, my friend, are going down. Made me choke on my Dr. Pepper you sonnuvabitch.

[Guest Powerplay]

"Good god, this is ridiculous. What kind of four star establishment treats customers like this!?" Flesher fumes. "I mean, don't they know who we are?"

 

"Well, the Matre 'D said he'd be right back..." Willam Hearford the Third, better known to some as Judge Mental, but never call him 'Bill' because it annoys him, futiely tries to calm Flesher down.

 

"What, 20 minutes ago? We were early to boot, Bill." Flesher continues to seethe, as Mental's face falls.

 

"Quite right, but--"

 

"Ejiro..." Judge Mental vainly tries to intervene. "Look, I told you before we came that the entire thing was going to be in French."

 

"The hell you did, Hearford." Ejiro grumbles, leaning back in his seat.

 

*Sigh* I've become the mother of the Magnificent 7, I guess . Anyways, a hilarious promo. I laughed my ass off at Fugue speaking French. Anyways, keep it up. And EJIRO! I said water only! Young man, we aren't made out of money here at the Magnificent 7...

[Guest Edwin MacPhisto]

1. Superb use of the word "splut"

2. Final showdown not unlike an episode of the A-Team

3. Z: "I'm so lonely..."

K: "Mm hmm."

Z: "...Wanna play Kevin Bacon?"

K: "No."

Z: "*cry*"

 

Now, just write a match this good and you should be in fine shape.

[Guest TheBostonStrangler]

Z, this was worth waiting for. I've been waiting for a LONG time to see some classic Carnie action, and this delivered. Thank you for the most entertaining promo I've read in a very long time. Great mix of comedy, action, drama, and making fun of leaguers. Keep it up now, bitch.

[Guest Ace309]

I eat my steak RARE, mofo.

[Guest kelloggs]

Now this is a carnie promo that I can look back on and tell JLers about. Z has created my POOFNAR esque memory for the carnival.

[Guest AnnieEclectic]

Wow. Just, wow. And perfect, I completely got into this, and I wanna know how you knew about my cooking skills...

 

You've just set the bar really really high for the other three to do. DAMNM YOUSE~!

 

heh.

 

-Annie "Still marks for Z" Eclectic

[Guest Tod deKindes]

I know where I wanna go if I turn face...