Post by Deleted on Mar 20, 2014 15:37:24 GMT -5
House Show Havoc!
“Whoa, WCF Galaxy, you have to check this out!” Freddy Whoa, in his signature suit and style, entreats the audience that clicked the appropriate link on the Wrestling Championship Federation’s website’s “News” subsection, “Exclusive footage from last night’s show in Flint, Michigan. Things got crazy when a business group tried to honor one of the company’s biggest stars, leading to—well, just watch!”
The image of Freddy is replaced with one of several people standing in the WCF ring. To one side there is a professional looking gentleman wearing a blue business suit with a red tie. Opposite him is a group of four couples. The men are all middle aged, somewhat seedy, and dressed either in loud sports jackets or tracksuits. With each fellow is a female valet, each of whom is attired in clothing you might expect to see on the red carpet before the AVN Awards. The guy who’s attending this soiree stag has a microphone, and he begins speaking.
“My name is Tom Weber, and I am the Chief Financial Officer of the Fly Foundation, a non-profit fund-raising organization founded by Jonny Fly.”
There is a huge cheer at Fly’s name. Everyone in the ring applauds politely. Weber continues.
“Jonny could not be here tonight-“
Now the crowd starts booing. Now the people between the ropes are sharing awkward glances. Weber waits until the jeers subside before moving on.
“But he sent me here as his representative. And while I won’t be ‘mixing it up’-“
Tom does some lame fight pantomiming that the fans in attendance no sell as an attempt at comedy.
“- in the ring tonight, I will be accepting, on Jonny’s behalf, an award given in honor of his tireless support of the adult oriented service industry. So, without further ado, let me turn the presentation over to Fred Shaw, President of the Fraternal Brotherhood of Gentlemen’s Clubs and other Venues for Nude Theater.”
Shaw, a smallish man with an overabundance of chest hair and medallions poking out from the open collar of his tuxedo shirt, accepts the microphone, “Thanks, Tom. And thank you, Flint Michigan!!”
There’s some hoots and hollers from the seats when the event’s host city is mentioned.
“The FBGCVNT is here tonight to bestow upon Jonny Fly its highest singular accolade. As I’m sure you know, no man has given more time or money to the naked entertainment trade than Jonny. Well, maybe Charlie Sheen. Ha hah hahaha!”
The only one who laughs at Fred’s joke is his arm candy. Undaunted, the flesh peddler moves on.
“Whether its donating thousands to the restoration of institutional landmarks like “Sticky Nicky’s” and “La Maison de la Peau”, creating an endowment for ecdysiast studies at the University of California, Santa Barbara, or simply providing financial and moral support to our industry’s most valuable resource-“
He points to the four bimbos in the ring with him, who vamp appreciatively at the attention.
“Jonny Fly has proven himself a patron of the erotic arts. That is why we of the Fraternal Brotherhood of Gentlemen’s Clubs and other Venues for Nude Theater are giving to him the Key to the Champagne Room.”
Another member of the Chamber of Carnal Commerce solemnly steps forward. In his hands is an oaken box. Fred opens it, and produces a large, bejeweled lock opener on a brass ring. A bottle of Cristal, also attached, serves as a fob. Shaw hands the monstrosity to Tom Weber.
“Thank you, Mister Shaw. And I’m sure, if Jonny were here, he would be thanking for both your kind words and this lovely trophy.”
“It’s more than a decoration, Tom,” Fred assures him, “It’s got practical value too. When Jonny presents that Key at any FBGCVNT associated establishment, he’ll get half off the cover charge.”
“Very generous.”
As the pair confers on the merits of the Fraternal Brotherhood’s largess, they fail to notice a large, black coated man rappelling down from the rafters; unlike the crowd, who scream with delight in the assumption that it’s Sting descending downward to save this segment. And perhaps it is; though The Icon isn’t known for concealing his features with a long red scarf worn high over his face like an outlaw’s bandana and a pulled down green checkered flat cap. He doesn’t usually have a tee-shirt cannon strapped to his back either.
The stranger lands in the middle of the ring. Everyone else in it with him stares at him numbly; not sure if this is part of the show. Coolly, the man slings the air gun off his shoulder and targets Weber. FWOOSH! WHAM! The Fly Foundation representative takes a projectile to the stomach. The projectile, a reinforced bag, explodes on impact, covering its target with a cloud of orange crumbs and dust.
Hot fry dust.
Weber clutches his abdomen and topples over, the key thudding to the mat beside him. His assailant, still tethered to the line he came down on, drops the cannon before walking over and taking the award. A foolhardy Fred Shaw tries to intercept him, and gets pie-faced to the ground for the effort. A second strip club owner charges, only to get Irish whipped into the ropes, flapjacked on the rebound, and caught and powerslammed after reaching his flight’s apogee. The other men, and all the women, bail out of the ring.
As the fans murmur in confusion, the intruder takes Jonny’s Key to the Champagne Room and holds it high over his head. Realizing his intentions, they begin to boo. After a brief tug on the brim of his cap, the mystery man yanks on the rappel line, which retracts, sending him skyward, up to the ceiling and out of sight.
The clip ends, and once again Freddy Whoa is on camera, “Whoa! Someone stole Jonny Fly’s Key! And he got away with it too. Arena security was unable to locate the attacker, and at this moment, there are no known leads to his identity or motive. The good news is no one was seriously injured during the theft. WCF.com has contacted representatives of Jonny Fly for comment on the incident, but as of yet none has been forthcoming. When we do get word from the Fly Camp, we will pass that information on to you.”
“Whoa, WCF Galaxy, you have to check this out!” Freddy Whoa, in his signature suit and style, entreats the audience that clicked the appropriate link on the Wrestling Championship Federation’s website’s “News” subsection, “Exclusive footage from last night’s show in Flint, Michigan. Things got crazy when a business group tried to honor one of the company’s biggest stars, leading to—well, just watch!”
The image of Freddy is replaced with one of several people standing in the WCF ring. To one side there is a professional looking gentleman wearing a blue business suit with a red tie. Opposite him is a group of four couples. The men are all middle aged, somewhat seedy, and dressed either in loud sports jackets or tracksuits. With each fellow is a female valet, each of whom is attired in clothing you might expect to see on the red carpet before the AVN Awards. The guy who’s attending this soiree stag has a microphone, and he begins speaking.
“My name is Tom Weber, and I am the Chief Financial Officer of the Fly Foundation, a non-profit fund-raising organization founded by Jonny Fly.”
There is a huge cheer at Fly’s name. Everyone in the ring applauds politely. Weber continues.
“Jonny could not be here tonight-“
Now the crowd starts booing. Now the people between the ropes are sharing awkward glances. Weber waits until the jeers subside before moving on.
“But he sent me here as his representative. And while I won’t be ‘mixing it up’-“
Tom does some lame fight pantomiming that the fans in attendance no sell as an attempt at comedy.
“- in the ring tonight, I will be accepting, on Jonny’s behalf, an award given in honor of his tireless support of the adult oriented service industry. So, without further ado, let me turn the presentation over to Fred Shaw, President of the Fraternal Brotherhood of Gentlemen’s Clubs and other Venues for Nude Theater.”
Shaw, a smallish man with an overabundance of chest hair and medallions poking out from the open collar of his tuxedo shirt, accepts the microphone, “Thanks, Tom. And thank you, Flint Michigan!!”
There’s some hoots and hollers from the seats when the event’s host city is mentioned.
“The FBGCVNT is here tonight to bestow upon Jonny Fly its highest singular accolade. As I’m sure you know, no man has given more time or money to the naked entertainment trade than Jonny. Well, maybe Charlie Sheen. Ha hah hahaha!”
The only one who laughs at Fred’s joke is his arm candy. Undaunted, the flesh peddler moves on.
“Whether its donating thousands to the restoration of institutional landmarks like “Sticky Nicky’s” and “La Maison de la Peau”, creating an endowment for ecdysiast studies at the University of California, Santa Barbara, or simply providing financial and moral support to our industry’s most valuable resource-“
He points to the four bimbos in the ring with him, who vamp appreciatively at the attention.
“Jonny Fly has proven himself a patron of the erotic arts. That is why we of the Fraternal Brotherhood of Gentlemen’s Clubs and other Venues for Nude Theater are giving to him the Key to the Champagne Room.”
Another member of the Chamber of Carnal Commerce solemnly steps forward. In his hands is an oaken box. Fred opens it, and produces a large, bejeweled lock opener on a brass ring. A bottle of Cristal, also attached, serves as a fob. Shaw hands the monstrosity to Tom Weber.
“Thank you, Mister Shaw. And I’m sure, if Jonny were here, he would be thanking for both your kind words and this lovely trophy.”
“It’s more than a decoration, Tom,” Fred assures him, “It’s got practical value too. When Jonny presents that Key at any FBGCVNT associated establishment, he’ll get half off the cover charge.”
“Very generous.”
As the pair confers on the merits of the Fraternal Brotherhood’s largess, they fail to notice a large, black coated man rappelling down from the rafters; unlike the crowd, who scream with delight in the assumption that it’s Sting descending downward to save this segment. And perhaps it is; though The Icon isn’t known for concealing his features with a long red scarf worn high over his face like an outlaw’s bandana and a pulled down green checkered flat cap. He doesn’t usually have a tee-shirt cannon strapped to his back either.
The stranger lands in the middle of the ring. Everyone else in it with him stares at him numbly; not sure if this is part of the show. Coolly, the man slings the air gun off his shoulder and targets Weber. FWOOSH! WHAM! The Fly Foundation representative takes a projectile to the stomach. The projectile, a reinforced bag, explodes on impact, covering its target with a cloud of orange crumbs and dust.
Hot fry dust.
Weber clutches his abdomen and topples over, the key thudding to the mat beside him. His assailant, still tethered to the line he came down on, drops the cannon before walking over and taking the award. A foolhardy Fred Shaw tries to intercept him, and gets pie-faced to the ground for the effort. A second strip club owner charges, only to get Irish whipped into the ropes, flapjacked on the rebound, and caught and powerslammed after reaching his flight’s apogee. The other men, and all the women, bail out of the ring.
As the fans murmur in confusion, the intruder takes Jonny’s Key to the Champagne Room and holds it high over his head. Realizing his intentions, they begin to boo. After a brief tug on the brim of his cap, the mystery man yanks on the rappel line, which retracts, sending him skyward, up to the ceiling and out of sight.
The clip ends, and once again Freddy Whoa is on camera, “Whoa! Someone stole Jonny Fly’s Key! And he got away with it too. Arena security was unable to locate the attacker, and at this moment, there are no known leads to his identity or motive. The good news is no one was seriously injured during the theft. WCF.com has contacted representatives of Jonny Fly for comment on the incident, but as of yet none has been forthcoming. When we do get word from the Fly Camp, we will pass that information on to you.”
