PROMO: Chapter One

[Hank Kingsley 0]

Here's the first half of a four-part promo to introduce my new character. Enjoy.

 

 

 

PART I: The Eggstractor

 

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

 

“So…he’s a luchadore?”

 

James Matheson sits in his lavish Dallas, Texas home, a plate of pancakes and bacon in front of him and the phone pressed against his ear. After asking the question, he stuffs a forkful of Bisquick into his big mouth.

 

“Well, not exactly. I mean, he’s really not even a cruiserweight. But…but that ain’t the point. See, he wears a mask, but get this: he’s from ROMANIA.”

 

The unfamiliar voice on the other side of the conversation is that of Richard Bailey, Agent of the Rising Stars™. He currently resides in his San Antonio home, working fast and talking faster.

 

“Romania, huh? They even have pro wrestling in Romania?”

 

Matheson finishes the plate and brings it over to his kitchen, where his manservant (!) takes the plate and cleans it. Matheson reaches into his refrigerator and takes a couple of hardboiled eggs.

 

“Nah, but that don’t matter. He relocated to some rinky-dink town in Idaho a few years back, that’s where I met him. You know who trained him?”

 

“Who?”

 

“Nah, Neidhart’s past his prime. It was the man that main-evented Genesis 4, baby. William freakin’ Hearford.”

 

A loud CLANG is heard, and Bailey thinks of this as a sound of surprise.

 

“I know, baby, isn’t this great? I think I’ve found the brightest diamond in the roughest of rough since-”

 

“It’s not that, Richie. You ever try one of these Eggstractor things?”

 

“Egg-what? No.”

 

“Yeah, supposedly they take the shell off a hardboiled egg. Apparently they’re much better at tearing the egg apart.”

 

Matheson gives up on the Eggstractor and instead sits down on his couch, where he produces a file. He begins sifting through the folder.

 

“A shame, James. Anyway-”

 

“You eat eggs a lot, Richie?”

 

“Not particularly, James. I prefer the actual chicken, and not its reproductive byproduct.”

 

A pause.

 

“So, gonna manage?”

 

“I think I will. I haven’t had an egg in at least 5 years, and I think I’ve…”

 

“Manage the BOY, Richie. Get back on topic.”

 

“…oh, right.”

 

“See, it says here in this file that he’s quite the…uh, character. Sounds like someone who needs some guidance.”

 

“Au contraire, James. The Masked Man is a very stable, cunning, and versatile athlete. I’ll simply be his support economically and mentally.”

 

“Probably for the best. Believe me, being a manager in the SWF never goes well. Ever.”

 

“Did you decide on that before or after you got powerbombed by your former client, Charlie Matthews?”

 

A long pause.

 

“…so, Richie. Racquetball Thursday?”

 

“Racquetball sounds good. I think-”

 

“Think what, Richie?”

 

“Uh, nevermind. I’ve got call waiting…ah, it’s our Masked friend! I’ll talk to you soon, James.”

 

“Later, Richie.”

 

James hangs up his phone and goes to his 11:30 archery club meeting.

 

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

 

PART II: The Lion, the Bitch, and the Dead Baby

 

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

 

“You painted it RED?!”

 

Judy Harland, a 37-year old housewife, stands in front of her Orofino, Idaho residence with a look of shock and appall on her face. The man next to her stands 5’11” in a full suit with a conspicuous black mask on his head. His rough, Eastern European accent is quite distinguishable.

 

“See, it is funny, for I asked for the paint truck this morning, and my friends, they give me the dead baby truck. I promise you, madam, I threw them at your house with the greatest efficiency possible.”

 

Her mouth is agape.

 

“Please tell me you’re joking.”

 

“Madam, I am not. I am currently running two jobs, one at the abortion clinic and one as a painter. Luckily, I will be able to quit both after I have my successful tryout match with the Smarks Wrestling Federation.”

 

“Abortion clinic?”

 

Judy, becoming more and more afraid of this man, walks towards his truck and peers inside. Instead of seeing dead fetuses, she sees paint cans and paint chips. And a stuffed lion.

 

“But…but that’s the paint truck!” Judy calls back.

 

“You are correct, madam, but this truck was brought after the first coat had been applied, if you know what I am saying. It is true that the house has been painted with red paint, but the blood and guts were the, how you say, primer.”

 

Judy shrieks a horrible shriek and runs towards her house.

 

“Madam, what are you doing?”

 

“Calling the police!”

 

“But what about my money? I have a house and a concubine and three llamas to feed in my own home!”

 

Judy, however, runs right into the house. Panicking, the masked man walks over to his paint truck and pulls the stuffed lion out. He unzips the zipper on its back…revealing two lines of coke.

 

Oh, and a handgun.

 

The Masked Man rips the handgun out of the lion’s back and charges into the house. Judy, meanwhile, picks up the kitchen phone and begins dialing…until the Masked Avenger bursts into the kitchen, handgun pointed at her face! Judy drops the phone in shock.

 

“Cash or check?”

 

Masked Man smiles at Judy’s question, and walks to her refrigerator. He spies a bowl, and he reaches into the bowl and pulls out two hardboiled eggs.

 

“Would you happen to have the contraption that releases these hardboiled eggs from their shells, madam?”

 

Judy is caught off guard by Masked Man’s non-threatening nature, but quickly points to the cabinet.

 

“Eggstractor. Bottom shelf.”

 

“Thank you, madam.”

 

Masked Man produces the Eggstractor and places it on the counter. He places one egg in the contraption, and, with all of his might, presses down on the Eggstractor.

 

CLANG!

 

Just as James Matheson coincidentally told Richard Bailey earlier, the egg is destroyed, and the pieces of shell go FLYING every which way!

 

“MY EYE!”

 

Judy cries out in pain as a jagged piece of egg shell is lodged into her eyeball, and she falls to the kitchen floor. She begins breathing heavily…and then doesn’t breathe at all.

 

“Madam?”

 

Masked Man goes to check on Judy, and finds out she isn’t breathing. He quickly gets to his feet and turns on the sink, washing his hands thoroughly with an enormous glob of soap. After finishing, he reaches into Judy’s pocket and pulls out her wallet, taking all of the cash with him. He stuffs it in his coat pocket and produces a cigarette, lighting it before briskly walking outside of the house. He unclips the cell phone from his holster and dials.

 

“Richie? Yes, it’s me. We have a situation. 2214 Ivy Cove.”

 

Some garbled talking is heard in the earpiece.

 

“I do not have a fucking clue. Something to do with eggshells and whatnot. You can take care of it? Good.”

 

Masked Man hangs up the phone and takes a long drag of his cigarette before walking to his truck. He powers it up and turns on the radio, speeding down the driveway and onto the street. As he speeds down the road, Sid Vicious’ “My Way” comes on, and Masked Man sings along in his Eastern European accent.

 

“There were times, I’m sure you knew!

When there was nothing fucking else to do!

But through it all, when there was doubt!

I SHOT IT UP! Or KICKED IT OUT!

I fought JUST AS BEFORE!

And did it MYYYYYYYYYYYYYYYYYYYYYYYY WAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAYYYYYYYYY!”

 

To be continued.

[Guest Fire and Knives]

...I was about to post a promo of my own, and then I saw this.

 

This...this is awe-inspiring.

 

Mine shall wait a moment.

 

K.

[King Cucaracha 0]

Awe. Fucking. Some.

 

That is all.

[Dace59 0]

Lmao....comdey gold. This guy is going to be mad in the ring.

[Toxxic 0]

This is unreal.

 

Graps - STOP WATCHING ANGEL! NOW! IT'S DOING BAD THINGS TO YOU!

[Edwin MacPhisto 0]

You're a nutbag. Get out of my state.

[HollywoodSpikeJenkins 0]

Hahahahahaha.

 

 

 

 

*Falls off of chair laughing*

[muzz 0]

Hilarious, my friend. Totally warped.