Promo: 'What's This We Stuff?'

[The Amazing Rando 0]

Tom Flesher was having a long day. His private jet to the United Kingdom had not been as adequately stocked as he would have liked, leaving him to suffer the pain of ingesting box wine that Joseph Peters had probably stuck in there last Fourth of July. It tasted like the sweat a ring-rat might squeeze away from used canvas, but with enough cigarettes to last him until the JFK assassination is solved, he was able to survive – just barely.

 

With that behind him, he stared out his for-the-week office at Wembley Stadium and tried to ignore the two men standing behind him. Well, one of the two men, anyway.

 

“What are we going to do about this?” Alan Clark had been trying to contact him for two days. Problems with alcohol aside, Tom was happy that he had left his cell-phone charger in his hotel room in Tampa.

 

“We?” Tom finally spun his chair around to face his new World Champion and the bodyguard behind him.

 

“You know what I’m talking about. There has been way too much of this ‘I want to come back and get a title shot’ stuff happening around here! I came back and you didn’t hear a peep from me about a title shot! I had to earn my Cruiserweight Title opportunity and I didn’t even ask to be in the International Championship match last Christmas!”

 

“I think you need to lower your voice.” Tom was trying to stay low-key, given his mental state. “He is going to have to prove to me that he deserves it. And shouldn’t you be worrying about Jay, Johnny, or—“

 

“I don’t have that championship anymore. I’m above it!” this draws a roll of the eyes from the Commissioner. “And so what if Johnny Dangerous wins? It’s not like I haven’t beaten him before. Jay Hawke? He rode Landon’s coat-tails and then couldn’t even cash in on the big one when it counted!”

 

“Okay, and you are expecting Spike Jenkins to 'cash in on the big one' as you put it?”

 

“I saw something in his eyes and it was not love or compassion, Flesher. That’s not exactly the same Jenkins under that scraggily mop..." Alan pauses, "So what are we going to do about this?”

 

“We aren’t going to do a thing, Clark. If he proves that he is worthy of a title shot then he will get one. Zyon didn’t prove himself so he didn’t get it, if Spike doesn’t then you have nothing to worry about.” Tom stares across the desk and can see that Alan’s mental wheels are turning. “And I know every word of that contract you have frontward, backward, and sideways. Do not try and derail my shows.” Alan frowns, but only for a moment, then slowly a smirk starts to form. “...And if I see that Max fellow running around, well, let’s just say WE are going to have some serious problems.” So much for that smirk.

 

“Fine. I’ll see you Friday. Can’t have a Storm without the Heavyweight Champion of the World.” Alan turns, patting Walter Reynolds on the chest and signaling towards the door. “Let’s go. We have a meeting with the Pepsi-Max people in an hour…” Tom audibly groans just as Alan is about to disappear through the door. “Just kidding, Tom. Disney is all about Coca-Cola.” The door closes and Flesher can do nothing but shake his head and turn his chair back around to pour another drink.

[Toxxic 0]

I think this says what needs to be said. And Clark is fast becoming more egomaniacal than self-centred now he's World Champion, good to see.

[HollywoodSpikeJenkins 0]

This will be fun...