Promo: Just Before Smarkdown

[Guest Horse hockey!]

Fade in.

 

A door appears in view. It's an unmarked door in a nondescript hallway. The roar of the fans is the only indicator that the camera is watching a door in the Staples Center in Los Angeles. The masses of Smarks Wrestling Federation fans have gathered for Smarkdown, and the show is just about to begin. The buzz of the crowd dies down, and instead the unmistakable sounds of acid churning, heaving, coughing and spitting can be heard.

 

"Oh, that was a good one," a voice mutters.

 

The cameraman eases closer to the door, then it's pushed open. A turn to the right reveals a short hallway and another turn to the left. Standing in the corner, leaning against the walls with his arms crossed, is Marcus Washington. The Hardcore Gamers' belt rests over his shoulder. He's shaking his head ever so slightly as another heaving gurgle comes from further inside the restroom.

 

"What the Hell did you eat, man?" Marcus asks (presumably) Sean Davis.

 

"Jambalaya, bro'.. " Davis groans before spitting more bile from his mouth. "That bit-(eep) told me that the Crawfish House was the best place in town for Creole. Sh-(eep), I've never been this sick in my life, man."

 

"Is that a true statement?" Washington asks, just before Sean begins another round of heaving and gut-wrenching. The resulting ejection of fluid material; however, is absent. The lawyer sighs, "No, you don't have to answer that."

 

A pause. The roll, rip and tear of toilet paper is heard, along with the squeaky open and slamming close of the stall door. Davis's voice breaks the silence, along with running water. "Nah, that garbage they called food in the pen was worse." His voice is sarcastic, "It only took two months to get used to that sh-(eep)."

 

A look of concern finally crosses Marcus's face. "So are you going to be okay tonight?"

 

"Ugh, I'll be out there, best I can be, like always." Davis swishes water in his mouth and splashes some on his face. He spits and turns the water off, pulling a couple of paper towels from the dispenser to wipe his face and hands. Sean then appears in the view of the camera, tossing back the wadded paper into a trashcan. The champ retrieves his belt from Marcus and takes the time to fasten it around his waist. His bared upper body is already sheen with sweat.

 

Washington backpedals toward the door. "Man, let me get you some mints. That's not jambalaya on your breath."

 

Sean just chuckles, and then stifles a belch. His face scrunches with distaste and he shakes his head. "Definitely not feeling it tonight, Marc."

 

"I don't want to hear that from you, Sean.. put your game face on. We've got about half an hour. Fury's nothing to get excited about anyway.. "

 

Fade out.

[Angel_Grace_Blue 0]

You forgot this:

 

Sounds like you ate at one of Elzar's restaurants "This fish is slightly too rotten to use for jambalaya."

 

And being that I must find tiny insignificant faults (Because I figure I might as well have no internet friends to go along with my no real life friends), Creole and Cajun are not the same. Similar qualities, but not interchangeable.

 

But, yay for promo!

[Guest Horse hockey!]

And being that I must find tiny insignificant faults (Because I figure I might as well have no internet friends to go along with my no real life friends), Creole and Cajun are not the same. Similar qualities, but not interchangeable.

So he had Creole and got sick, but was achin' for Cajun which wouldn't make him sick.

 

That's it.

 

The dictionary puts them in the same entry.

[Toxxic 0]

"HE'S GONNA PUUUUUUUUUUUKKEEEE!"