PROMO: Good News

[JJ Johnson 0]

Doctor James Henderson sighs. It's been a very, very long day. He could have been home, should have been home two hours ago. His shift ended at 9, and it's a 45-minute drive back to his home in Ann Arbor. But just as he was leaving, the phone rang. When he answered, a calm voice with the slightest Ohio accent had been on the other end, with the same drone that Henderson's four-year-old son gets whenever he's reading something out loud. Before the man had even finished, Dr. Henderson knew what the letter was about, and now here he is. Instead of in Ann Arbor, in his bed, he's in Detroit, in his office, waiting for quite possibly his most important patient.

 

He sighs again, then looks at his watch. 11 o'clock. Henderson rolls his eyes.

 

"If he isn't here in fifteen minutes, I'm leaving, and he can go keep someone else awake."

 

 

But no sooner than those words leave Henderson's mouth, there's a knock at the door. Henderson takes a moment, then puts on his best pseudo-friendly smile before saying "Come in."

 

 

The door opens, and in walks JJ Johnson. There's no sign of the title that usually never leaves its position slung over Johnson's shoulder, but then again, a man would look rather foolish carrying 15 pounds of gold around with him. And he would BE rather foolish to carry a valuable item in plain view in downtown Detroit. The Canadian sits down, and there's an awkward silence. Henderson looks down at his desk, around at the walls, at the clock (which now reads 11:04. Henderson swears under his breath). Johnson just stares a hole through the doctor.

 

 

Finally, Henderson breaks the silence.

 

 

"So, it's been ten months now." says Henderson, prompting a calm nod from Johnson. "Almost eleven. How's your throat feeling?"

 

 

Johnson thinks for a moment, then makes the "so-so" hand signal. Henderson smiles a little at this. He's been going on the "nods, hand signals, notes scribbled on paper" system of communication with Johnson since the injury, and it'd grown very tiresome after a few weeks, since it was with great difficulty that Henderson was able to get anything more than a grunt, or a shrug out of the former UFC Heavyweight Champion. There's another awkward silence, and then Henderson breaks the silence once more.

 

"I've got very good news." says Henderson, beaming, as Johnson leans in closer with an eyebrow cocked. The doctor smiles again, as if he finds Johnson's interest amusing. The look on Johnson's face changes from interest to one that blatantly says "continue stalling, and see how amused you end up". The smile drops, and Henderson continues.

 

"Like I said, it's been nearly 11 months since the accident-"

 

At this, Johnson snorts. Henderson knows by now that Johnson is convinced Liddell was gunning for his throat from the start, but continues talking.

 

"-and by now, the damage is largely superficial. You haven't been talking lately, because you haven't been able to take time out of your schedule to see me, and thus you haven't known whether or not you can speak."

 

Johnson's eyebrow arches back up, almost as if he doesn't believe what the beady-eyed little man in front of him is saying.

 

"You can talk, but there are some conditions." says Henderson, getting a bit enthused now. "One, plenty of water. Probably should drink a bottle for every ten minutes or so that you speak, to prevent your throat from drying out and scarring again. It's fine if your throat is dry at other times, but you want it wet when you talk."

 

Johnson nods. Water is not a problem, seeing as how Jay insists on drinking a gallon before every title defense. "Makes it that much easier to sandbag", he says, although Landon and JJ are skeptical as to whether or not a gallon makes any difference.

 

"Two, no raising your voice." Henderson continues. "At all. If you can feel it in your throat, you're too loud. No yelling, no screaming, no loud talking. No raising your voice, period."

 

 

Again, Johnson nods. He didn't raise his voice much before the injury, so like water, it shouldn't be too hard to do this. Henderson stands, and extends his hand over the desk, not-so-subtly glancing at the clock as he does so. It's 11:15 now. Henderson sighs, and feels a firm grip on his hand as Johnson also rises. The SWF Cruiserweight Champion makes his way to the door, Henderson FINALLY packing up, and opens it. He's halfway out before he pauses. Henderson looks up from his packing.

 

"Yes, JJ?"

 

Johnson hesitates a moment, as if deliberating what words to use in his first complete spoken sentence in almost a year. Finally, he decides.

 

 

 

 

 

"You could've called me, you son of a bitch."

 

And with that, Johnson is out the door, on his way to the airport to catch his flight to Bismarck. Henderson smiles for the fourth time in that fifteen minutes, and goes back to his packing as he shakes his head.

 

"And they say eloquence is a lost art."

[Toxxic 0]

This is a nice promo, but would have been better if J3 hadn't spoken a couple of paragraphs before his CW title match with Pretzler.

 

What's that? We hired the WWE writers to take care of continuity? NO problem then!

[JJ Johnson 0]

That was my eviler twin.

 

 

Or, for an excuse more based in reality, this promo means he can talk full-time. That one promo before Pretz-JJ really took the starch out of him.

[Toxxic 0]

Brilliant.

 

You know the one thing I really like about this promo? The description of Hawke's gallon before a title defence, his reasoning for it, and Johnson and Landon's opinion of it. That sort of detail makes it for me.

[Toshiaki Koala 0]

Could this promo possibly foreshadow the return of another beloved SWF doctor?

 

 

Only time will tell...