Promo: First Shot in the War

[Guest Grand Slam]

PROMO: "Grand Slam" Mark Stevens

 

It is late in the evening after Smarkdown.  Most of the wrestlers have gone back to their hotels for the night.  Some are out hitting the town, using the opportunity of a few days off to live it up and let loose.  Some are already on airplanes, flying to diverse parts of the country, to wherever they call home and the waiting embrace of loved ones.

 

But not Stubby.  The Commissioner of the SWF has far too paperwork to take care of.  He has to review the SJL roster for up and coming SWF superstars, he has to read numerous doctor's reports on the nagging injuries that occur every night in this business, and he has to make out the card for Storm.  That has to be filled out, duplicated and faxed or e-mailed or overnighted along with a travel itinerary for every superstar expected to make the trip.  As Stubby walks through the empty halls of the arena with his overfilled satchel swinging at his side, he wonders what made him accept this position anyways.  He is walking without fear even though his newfound protectors, Da Pound, are out in a nightclub somewhere.  The Clan is gone, The Enlightenment is gone, heck, even the Midnight Carnival has called it a night and headed back to the hotel.  Everyone who could possibly want to do Stubby harm has disappeared for the evening, leaving him alone.  And thankful.

 

After a few moments, he comes to the door to his "office".  One of the perks of the position, every week the SWF stage crew haul his desk and file cabinets from arena to arena so the Commissioner has a place of privacy to work.  And do backstage promos, but that's another matter altogether.  He pulls out his key, slips it in the lock and turns, opening the door.  The first thing that greets him is an unfamiliar smell.  Not bad exactly, but certainly not the sweet, sweet aroma he is used to.  More like... well, like his front yard after a rainstorm.

 

With a hint of foreboding, he opens the door wide and flips on the lights.  He is stunned.  Where his desk stood is a tall pile of brown dirt, carefully arranged and set.  On top of the pile is a white slab of rubber.  All around the pile is sod.  What once was a bland, normal tan carpet is now grass, and not the good kind either.  Meticulously manicured and tended, it is dark green and short.  Stubby steps into the room and closes the door behind him.  As soon as it does, a large video display hanging on the wall across the room lights up with a picture of Stubby.  A voice says "Now batting, Stubby "Pots" McWEEEEEEEEEEDDDDD!!!"  Next to the picture of the SWF Commissioner is a block of text:

 

Stubby "Pots" McWeed      .000

AB 1    H 0   2B 0   3B  0   HR 0

OBP  .000      SP  .000

2 Out   1 Strike   0 Balls

 

"Damn it Stevens!!!" Stubby throws down his satchel and realizes he is standing on a home plate. To his credit, he ducks out of the way before the pitch from the pitching machine under the video display.

 

"I think I'm going to be sick..." Stubby says in a dejected voice as he looks around at his office.  Then there is a knock at the door.  Nearly in a rage, Stubby yanks open the door to see...

 

a very pretty young blonde woman in a nurse's uniform.  She smiles sweetly at him and asks, "Are you Stubby?"

 

He sighs, "Yes."

 

"I heard that you were feeling ill,

"Headache, fever, and a chill.

"I've come to help restore your pluck,

"'Cause I'm the nurse who likes to..."

 

Stubby just slams the door.  He pulls out the Storm card and starts writing, gumbling to himself, "I don't care what you do Stevens, no way you are getting that match now."

 

Epilogue: In a car, somewhere on a highway between the arena and the airport...

 

Edwin MacPhisto is behind the wheel.  He looks over to the passenger seat and says, "Mark, we're sorry we didn't help you with your Stubby situation this week."

 

Mark Stevens looks over at his good friend.  "Not a problem.  Heck, we've all got our problems, right?  Besides, I took care of it."

 

Elm leans up from the back seat.  "You have the match amigo?"

 

"No, at least not yet.  We'll see.  Oh, Rotten, here's that key back I borrowed."

 

Johnny Rotten leans forward and takes back the small gold key with a wry smile.  "Not a problem Mark.  Consider it my pleasure."

 

ELM and MacPhisto look at each other.  "Key?"  they say in unison.

 

"Yes, key," Grand Slam answers.  "There are advantages to having the deputy Commissioner in the Stable."

 

Edwin smiles a huge, goofy smile.  "What did you do?  Balloons?  Barney costumes?  Pikachu?  What?!?!?!"

 

Grand Slam sits back in his seat and grins, the years fading from his face.  "Let's just say I am good friends with the groundskeeper at Coors Field, and there is a line on my charge card that reads 'Vicki's Elegant Escorts' that will be a joy explaining to Lynn.  But it is worth it.  I just wish I could see Stubby's face..."

 

All four men laugh and pressure Grand Slam to reveal exactly what he did.  As he starts the story, the camera fades, closing another chapter in the great book of the Midnight Carnival.

 

END PROMO

[Guest HVilleThugg]

Dude....that was tight man!  Oh, I do hope you get the match someday soon...cause it'll be a doosy!!

 

Great promo from the Heavy Hitter!!

 

Da "loving to wake up to great promos like that" H

[Guest Edwin MacPhisto]

0 Balls

 

Mark Stevens is the wittiest man alive.

 

I love it.  Heh heh.  First Bo, now you, making me laugh my brains out.  Brav-o!  If you can't beat 'em...sod their office.  Catchy.  I even used my moddiness to give you the almighty Multiple Capital Letters In The Topic Heading.  It was that worthy.

[Guest Beingz0wningj00]

Good shit, Mark! Good shit!

 

 

Will Stubby get the rematch he always wanted!? If he does... will Mark kick his ass again. Silencing Stubby McEgo for good?

[Guest Grand Slam]

Thanks Edwin.  I am honored.  I was hoping for someone to catch the subtle humor in a ddition to the more broad stuff.  And yes, the numbers mean something if anybody cares.

 

And Thugg... thanks!  I love seeing feedback to my promos.  To me anyways, it is what makes them worth writing.

 

And be fair JD, I didn't kick his ass.  From what I understand it was very close.  Now, in the match he had to get the help of his elderly father-in-law (Simon Flare) to beat me, but that is another story...

[Guest Beingz0wningj00]

Mr brief translation of the numbers... from my baseball knowledge

 

Stubby "Pots" McWeed      .000<batting average against Mark.

 

AB 1<at bats  H 0<hits   2B 0<doubles   3B  0<triples   HR 0<Home Runs

 

OBP  .000  Overal Batting Percentage    SP  .000<???

2 Out   1 Strike   0 Balls

 

 

 

Fair!? To Stubby!? Why!?

 

Oh yeah, the whole him being in the same stable thing and your match you winning by DQ... maloyvin!

2 more strikes and you are out sir Stubby!

[Guest Grand Slam]

OBP  .000  Overal Batting Percentage    SP  .000<

2 Out   1 Strike   0 Balls

 

very close JD, but not quite right.

 

Fair!? To Stubby!? Why!?

Oh yeah, the whole him being in the same stable thing and your match you winning by DQ

 

Actually, Stubby and I have never been in a stable together.  If memory serves me, Stubby was in Anarchy but long after I left.  And, at the time, he was being pushed to the moon and I was working my way into the ICTV picture, so realistically, that was the only way I could see any "booker" putting me over in that match.  Apparently, the marker agreed.

[Guest]

I think I am going to enjoy this new team. Indeed!

[Guest BA_Baracus]

PROMO (Stubby P. McWeed);

"Oh uhhh...yeah?

 

[stubby pisses on Mark's grass.]

 

Take that!

 

Mothernature says, oooo..."

[Guest Beingz0wningj00]

I meant me being in the same stable... which is the third time I'm in a stable with this whore. Ugh.

[Guest chirs3]

Hi-freaking-larious, Mark. Wish it was a little longer, because that was great.