Post by Thunder on Mar 11, 2007 13:57:38 GMT -5
The phone rang, causing Thunder to let out a sigh of anger. He was already running later than he’d like to be, and this phone call was making it even more difficult. With great fury, he threw down his gym bag on the bed and reached for the cell phone in his pants pocket.
Thunder was standing in the middle of a hotel room so ornate and expensive, that for most people there would never be a thought in their mind of staying in a place such as this. Every piece of furniture in this room appears to be expensive to a ridiculous degree. The white carpeting on the floor appears more comfortable than most beds that people sleep on. Speaking of beds, the one in this hotel room looks more like a throne fit for a king than a bed. Despite the bed being so big, the room is extremely spacious and contains many more items. Against the wall opposite the bed is a dresser so massive that there is no way anyone, not even women with the largest wardrobes, could ever fill up every one of the drawers. Not too far off from the dresser is an oak writing desk, but Thunder had no plans of putting it to use. Much like the two end tables on the either side of the bed, the desk and dresser are hand-carved and most likely only made of the finest materials.
Now with the cell phone out, Thunder answers the call.
“What the hell do you want?” he said.
“Sorry. I didn’t expect you to get so angry just because I called you,” said the woman on the other end. Clearly, the woman is Janie Vice.
“It’s just that I’m trying to get ready, and you calling is not making me get done any sooner.”
“I know, I know. I shouldn’t have called you.”
“It’s okay. If you called, there must be a reason.”
“Yes. The limo is down here. I’m waiting inside.”
“Well that’s all well and good, Janie, but I’m not exactly ready at the moment.”
“You’re going to really need to get down here quickly. This is a big match with Lawnmower Jones, even more so since War is only a week away.”
“Are you serious? War is the real show; this little thing tonight pales in comparison to War. How does beating Lawnmower Jones help me with War? Momentum? I don’t need that. Talent is what matters in a match like War, not what you did in the past. This match won’t even be worth the trouble since Jones is an emotional wreck right now. He can claim that he’s better, but no one, especially not me, is buying it. I expect nothing from Jones tonight, and that may be overestimating him. All this match means to be is training, a practice session. The real show, the real match, is one week from today. But no matter how insignificant this match is, I’m not missing it. So trust me, I’m doing my best to get down there.”
“Okay. Just be quick.”
“Don’t worry, Janie. I’ll be down as soon as possible. But I have to start moving now.”
“All right. See you in a few minutes.”
“Bye.”
Thunder shoves the cell phone in his pocket and quickly ties a red tie that was laying on the bed. He doesn’t bother checking to see how it looks, instead just puts his sports coat on. Thunder takes a final look in his gym bag, making sure all of the contents are there. In the bag there are black wrestling pants, boots, elbow and knee pads, as well as wrist tape. Satisfied, Thunder zips up the gym bag and flings it over his shoulder. Like a marathon runner, Thunder dashes out of the hotel room, not even bothering to shut the door. Almost immediately, Thunder is gone from view and off to the limo.
Thunder was standing in the middle of a hotel room so ornate and expensive, that for most people there would never be a thought in their mind of staying in a place such as this. Every piece of furniture in this room appears to be expensive to a ridiculous degree. The white carpeting on the floor appears more comfortable than most beds that people sleep on. Speaking of beds, the one in this hotel room looks more like a throne fit for a king than a bed. Despite the bed being so big, the room is extremely spacious and contains many more items. Against the wall opposite the bed is a dresser so massive that there is no way anyone, not even women with the largest wardrobes, could ever fill up every one of the drawers. Not too far off from the dresser is an oak writing desk, but Thunder had no plans of putting it to use. Much like the two end tables on the either side of the bed, the desk and dresser are hand-carved and most likely only made of the finest materials.
Now with the cell phone out, Thunder answers the call.
“What the hell do you want?” he said.
“Sorry. I didn’t expect you to get so angry just because I called you,” said the woman on the other end. Clearly, the woman is Janie Vice.
“It’s just that I’m trying to get ready, and you calling is not making me get done any sooner.”
“I know, I know. I shouldn’t have called you.”
“It’s okay. If you called, there must be a reason.”
“Yes. The limo is down here. I’m waiting inside.”
“Well that’s all well and good, Janie, but I’m not exactly ready at the moment.”
“You’re going to really need to get down here quickly. This is a big match with Lawnmower Jones, even more so since War is only a week away.”
“Are you serious? War is the real show; this little thing tonight pales in comparison to War. How does beating Lawnmower Jones help me with War? Momentum? I don’t need that. Talent is what matters in a match like War, not what you did in the past. This match won’t even be worth the trouble since Jones is an emotional wreck right now. He can claim that he’s better, but no one, especially not me, is buying it. I expect nothing from Jones tonight, and that may be overestimating him. All this match means to be is training, a practice session. The real show, the real match, is one week from today. But no matter how insignificant this match is, I’m not missing it. So trust me, I’m doing my best to get down there.”
“Okay. Just be quick.”
“Don’t worry, Janie. I’ll be down as soon as possible. But I have to start moving now.”
“All right. See you in a few minutes.”
“Bye.”
Thunder shoves the cell phone in his pocket and quickly ties a red tie that was laying on the bed. He doesn’t bother checking to see how it looks, instead just puts his sports coat on. Thunder takes a final look in his gym bag, making sure all of the contents are there. In the bag there are black wrestling pants, boots, elbow and knee pads, as well as wrist tape. Satisfied, Thunder zips up the gym bag and flings it over his shoulder. Like a marathon runner, Thunder dashes out of the hotel room, not even bothering to shut the door. Almost immediately, Thunder is gone from view and off to the limo.
