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Subject: Episode #1 Posted By: Booker - Funky Purple Alien Posted At: (6/22/01 1:03:43 pm) Reply |
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The bell staff at the Houston Biltmore Hotel is busy scurrying around the room, preparing it for the party tomorrow. The western half of The Grand Ball Room is being rented out by members of some club for a convention or party, or whatever you want to call it, and after the rowdy bunch that just cleared out of here, its going to take all evening to get the room cleaned, vacuumed and prepped. Hospitality people are working on the signs which read, “WELCOME MEMBERS OF THE SHING LOVER’S CLUB of AMERICA”. And the accounting folks are busy working on payment terms with Jambo, who’s using a small part of his fortunes earned from running Maxima.org, to bankroll the whole shebang. Accountant: “Ok Mr. Jambo, with provisions for dinners - choice of steak, grilled chicken, or vegetarian - open cocktail bar, over sized podium with microphone and projector and screen, it comes to $50,000. Less your $5000 deposit, that leaves a balance due of $45,000. What method of payment would you prefer, we can accept Diners, American….. Jambo (cutting her off): “Cash” With that, Jambo reaches into his jacket pocket and pulls out a WAD of $500’s. He silently and with a completely blank face, peels off 90 of the crisp bills. The accountant’s jaw is on the floor, she’s totally stunned. Accountant: “But,…but don’t you want to use a method that will provide you with evidence of…..” Jambo (cutting her off again): “NO! Just take the cash, no receipt necessary.” Accountant: Uh,….uh…..ok. You’ll have the room until midnight.” Jambo: “Thanks.” With that, he spins and walks out of the office. ** ** ** ** ** ** He can’t believe it. He’s gone for a couple of months, and the whole stinking internet has gone wacky. As the BBS Turns is a long forgotten memory, Shing’s got a new S2000(?), Matt’s totaled a(nother) car, Woodear has been booted, and to make matters as bleak as possible, now there’s some sort of “Shing Lovers Club”. What the hell is the world coming to? Well, at least Bill99GXE is still over rated – that much will never change. Sitting in his new Colorado digs, Booker, the newest resident of the Rocky Mountain State, cannot believe that, that group of losers has actually decided to honor the ultimate loser as their chief or something. Shing. What a joke. That kid’s about as sharp as a pound of wet liver. With as much taste to boot. “Man I can’t stand him.” He thinks to himself. “And now he has a fan club”. The whole sorted mess makes him want to puke. Just as he chokes back the first dry heave, the phone rings. Booker: “Booker here…whadaya want?” JimWilly: “Yo, its me brah – what’sup?” Booker: “Hey man, long time no talk. What’s this crap about Shing? He’s got some sort of fan club going now?” JimWilly: “Yeh, can you believe that crap? I was just talking to Chebosto about that the other day – he can’t believe it either.” Booker: “How’d that Texas loser get all those nimrods to admire him so much? I mean, a FAN club???” JimWilly: “Well, first he puts up a forum and let’s ‘em post anything they want – digital camera’s, pics of your mom’s hair dresser’s neighbor’s dog, favorite 70’s band,…anything. Then, he goes and bans Woodear.” Booker: “WHAAAAT??!!!! JimWilly: “Yup” Booker: “He didn’t! He banned my boy!?? JimWilly: “Our boy. He’s standing up for me at our wedding this summer you know.” Booker: “That ain’t right – we’re not gonna just sit around and stand for this, are we?” JimWilly: “Funny you’d mention, that’s exactly why I was calling. Seems they’re having their first little get together tomorrow, whatdaya say we crash?” Booker: “I’m in! Just tell me where and when – I’ll be there. Round up Chebosto and let’s plan a little surprise for “Mr. Popularity”. JimWilly: “Done. I’ll get back to you.” ** ** ** ** ** Fast forward to 9:00pm, the big night. The entire crew is gathered at the Houston Biltmore, in the Grand Ball Room, and its been a helluva night. The meal was good, the jokes were better, and the wine’s been flowing. The guest of honor, Shing, is getting particularly lit up. Jambo having pony’d up for a room for him tonight, he doesn’t have to drive & so is enjoying a bevy of libations. The whole gang is in attendance, Bill9GXE (with his overrated self), Sarah is there (faking it), JJW (hasn’t yet learned how to burn rubber), Matt (had to walk), Jeff92SE (still going from table to table defending Woodear), Mustang1999 (thoroughly sick of Found On Road Dead jokes), EricL (in his 9th year at Cal-Davis), Y2Kev, TimW, Debtman, Froman (wearing protective head gear, just in case),…everybody. Except three who are strangely conspicuous by their absence. ** ** ** ** ** Outside the massive hotel, milling around on the grounds in the dark are three shadowy figures. Dressed all in black, JimWilly, Booker, and Chebosto have a plan of their own and are executing. JimWilly looks for all the world like a Navy Seal or something. He has a 50 foot rope around his shoulder with a grappling hook on the end, black gloves, climbing boots and night vision goggles. The three carefully inspect for patrolling security guards. Chebosto: “All clear.” Booker: “Go ahead, BigJ – let ‘er rip.” JimWilly then takes the rope off his shoulder and looks up at the top of the giant building. This part is about 5 stories, a good 55 feet or so off the ground. Near the edge of the roof above them is a large, cobble stone fireplace chimney. That’s it. JimWilly locks onto it. He lets out about three feet of rope from the end of the hook, and begins to swing the hook in vertical circles with his right arm. Never removing his eyes from the target, the 6’2, 230 lb. JimWilly increases the speed of the swing…faster….faster. Then, still locked on the chimney, he lets the hook fly. Up, up, up. The hook smacks into the side of the stones with a deafening *CRACK*, and comes crashing back down toward them, landing in the well manicured grass just inches from Chebosto’s foot. Chebosto screams at him: “Hey!! Do you know what the hell you’re doing with that thing???” Booker: “sshhhhhh!” Chebosto: “Well he almost killed me with that damned thing!” JimWilly: “You’re alright aren’t you?” Chebosto: “Yeh, well…” JimWilly: “Then don’t worry about it.” JimWilly picks up the hook, measures out a few feet and begins sizing up the chimney for another go. Booker: “You’d better get it this time, bro. Those misses are too loud…someone’s going to hear us.” JimWilly: “Like I just told numb-nuts over there, don’t worry about it.” A minute later, JimWilly lets another one fly. *Click* - this one catches. JimWilly: “Woohoo!” JimWilly gives the rope a few good tugs to make sure its secure – it doesn’t budge. Booker: “Ok, you’ve got the airduct diagrams and building blueprints, right?” JimWilly (checks his hip pocket): “Check.” Booker: “Alright then, do your stuff Batman. We’ll rendezvous at checkpoint alpha, per the plan, beta if things go bad.” JimWilly: “Got it. Seeya.” With that, JimWilly tightly grips the rope with both hands, places one foot on the side of the old brick building, and leans back so that the rope is bearing all of his weight. He then lifts his other foot off of the ground and onto the side of the hotel. He is now completely horizontal, parallel to the ground. Looking just like Batman and the Boy Wonder of old, he methodically times his hand-over-hand movements with slow deliberate steps of his feet, and begins to scale the side of the building. ** ** ** ** ** Jambo is standing at the podium, beneath the giant “SHING LOVERS” banner. Jambo: “…and with that brief introduction, without further adieu, I give you your favorite, and mine, the man we all love to love, worshipped by men and adored by women…..SHING!” The place erupts as Shing approaches the podium. He and Jambo embrace briefly as Jambo turns over the microphone to him. Shing is now sloshed, slurring his words, without even acknowledging the crowd, the occasion, or the web forum, he launches into a Don Rickles routine. Shing: “(hiccup) Sooooo, A blind man and his guide dog enter a Bar and find their way to a bar stool. After ordering a drink, and sitting there for a while, the blind guy yells to the bartender, "Hey! You wanna hear a blonde joke?" The bar immediately becomes absolutely quiet. In a husky, deep voice, the woman next to him says, "Before you tell that joke, you should know something. The bartender is blonde, the bouncer is blonde, and I'm a 6 foot tall, 200 lb. blonde with a black belt in karate. What's more, the woman sitting next to me is blonde and she's a weight lifter. The lady to your right is a blonde, and she's a pro wrestler. Think about it seriously, Mister. You still wanna tell that joke?" The blind guy thinks for a moment and says, "Nah. Not if I'm gonna have to explain it five times." Baaahahaaha!!! The place roars. Shing’s feeling it now, he shoots down a couple of Wild Turkey’s while the laughter is subsiding, then launches into another joke, then another. A half an hour later, Shing has rattled off about a dozen or so jokes, and decides its time to resume his seat. He heads over to the front table and sits down. Unbeknownst to Shing, or anybody else in the room, a pair of eyes – up high in the ceiling, is watching and reporting on his every move. TimW steps up to the podium and grabs the mic. TimW: “That’s why we love him isn’t it folks?? Ya know, I can remember the first time that I ever laid eyes on Shing. It was at Maxus, 1999. Russ and I were….. And thus the roast begins. ** ** ** ** Meanwhile, from a ventilation duct high above the ball room floor, JimWilly is lying on his stomach, watching and reporting. As Shing steps down, JimWilly whispers into a small walkie talkie. JimWilly: “Ok, he’s just gone back to his table and is staring in on a Michelob. That rat TimW is at the podium. It shouldn’t be long now.” Chebosto: “Roger that.” Booker: “Got it. We wait.” ** ** ** ** An hour and a half, and eight speakers later, Shing and the gang have sore abdomens from all the laughing. But Shing has not yet been to the men’s room and he’s got a rumbling in his gut that tells him….its time. Shing: “I gotta hit the john, I’ll be back in a second.” Debtman: “Don’t fall in!” Shing: “Very funny, you outta be in pictures.” Shing steps out into the hallway and spots the men’s room down the hall. He makes for it. Still not knowing that he’s being shadowed from above. ** ** ** ** JimWilly: “Here we go! Here we go! He’s headed in, repeat, he’s headed in! Get ready!” Booker: “Oh, I’m ready alright.” Chebosto: “This is going to be fun.” ** ** ** ** Shing grabs a copy of the current Motor Trend from the lounge just before entering the men’s room, he charges into the deserted room, and selects the end stall. He enters it, closes and latches the door behind him, takes a seat and then begins skimming the table of contents. He’s found an interesting article, “Top Gun Shootout: 2001 Honda S2000 vs. 1978 AMC Gremlin Coupe – Not the Outcome You’d Expect”. Shing’s is intently into the article, and not liking the results much. Shing: “Awwww, that’s B.S.!! You’ve gotta launch the VTEC from above 3,000 rpm, ABOVE 3000!” JimWilly: “Is that how you beat all those Gremlins down here, with a 3,000 rpm launch?” Shing is so startled that he nearly, well, he does – drop a load. Shing thinks he recognizes the voice, it sounded like JimWilly, “But I’m all alone in a men’s room”, he reasons with himself. “Good God I’ve had too much to drink, I’m hearing voices now.” Shing returns to his reading. A moment later, he’s getting thoroughly agitated by the results of the comparison road test. Shing (outloud, he’s shouting at the magazine): “NO WAY! NO WAY that Gremlin has more torque than the S2000!” JimWilly: “I think it does. That Honda has what, 80 pound feet, max? This time Shing knows he heard it. He drops the magazine from in front of his face, and comes eyeball to eyeball with JimWilly. JimWilly: “Hi there, old buddy.” Shing (stunned): “What the….” Suspended by his knees from a water main overhead, JimWilly has removed one of the ceiling tiles and is hanging down into the stall, upside down. Having been previously hidden by the magazine, his nose is no further than a few inches from Shing’s. The shocked Shing cannot speak. JimWilly is holding a whistle in his hand, he shoves it into his mouth and blows it loudly. Outside in the hallway, the crew is waiting. Chebosto: “There’s the signal, let’s go!” Chebosto and Booker burst into the bathroom and storm the stall. Chebosto kicks the door open to find the still in shock Shing, sitting there hiding behind a magazine. Shing spots theBooker. Shing: “Booker! Where have you been, man? People have been asking about….” JimWilly (gives him a backhand): “Shut up!” Booker: “Here, this’ll help him keep his big trap shut.” Booker hands JimWilly a roll of silver duct tape, JimWilly loops it around Shing’s head a couple of times, right over his mouth. Shing: “Mmmmf, mmmmf!!” Shing is battling mightily, but in his inebriated condition, is no match for the three larger men. He’s quickly over powered. Chebosto: “Here, maybe this will help sober you up.” With that, the three flip Shing upside down, Chebosto holding one leg and Booker the other. JimWilly grabs his head, shoves it into the toilet bowl and flushes. Ugly swirley. They then flip him over and duct tape him to the wall, using the entire rest of the roll. Like a fly caught in a spider’s web, Shing is powerless to move. JimWilly: “Cool. Now let’s go and crash this party.” ** ** ** ** The double doors to the ball room burst open as JimWilly, Chebosto and Booker come striding in. Puffing on Dunhill Double Corona’s, the three are clearly proud of their trouncing, just moments before. Everywhere people are pointing and commenting. Y2Kev: “Isn’t that JimWilly?” Jeff92SE: “I dunno, he’s been lurking so much lately that I’ve forgotten what he looks like.” EricL: “HEY, that’s theBooker!” Debtman: “Nah, can’t be. No one’s heard from that punk since the first of the year.” EricL: “I’ve been to Booker’s house, I’ve met his wife, watched TV in his living room – I’m telling ya, if I say its theBooker, its theBooker!” Sarah: “Yeh, I met him once at a meet – that does sort of look like him. Except, this guy’s taller, a lot more muscular and better looking.” ; ) The three head straight to the podium. JimWilly assumes the mic. JimWilly: “Good evening, ladies and germs. (Chebosto cracks up in the background.) You people are pathetic. You actually paid money, to come here and to belong to a Shing Lover’s organization? What’s wrong with you losers??! Don’t you know that he’s extorting everyone of you? How do you think he keeps affording new cars and engines and brakes and stuff all the time, huh? Software programming ain’t THAT lucrative. You morons….” The group is growing angry and letting it show. Pieces of paper and other assorted garbage are flying through the air and pelting JimWilly and the podium. He takes no notice. As JimWilly is continuing, the oddness of the situation begins to dawn on some of the crowd. JJW (shouting over JimWilly’s tirade about the club): “Hey! Where IS Shing?” Mustang1999: “Yeh, what have you three flunkies done with my meal ticket,….er….I mean my boyfriend?!?!!” JimWilly: “I’m glad you asked that, ma’am. As a favor to you all, we have taken it upon ourselves to remove your worthless idol from his undeserving pedestal, and replace him with a man, truly worthy of your adoration. Ladies and gentlemen…..theBooker. Crowd: “Booooooo! Hissssss! Booooo!!! Where’s Shing!?! We want Shing!!! Booker (takes the podium): “Thank you, thank you very much.” The crowd is near riot stage now. Booker, Chebosto and JimWilly are being buried by flying debris, Coca-Cola, pencils, pens, anything the crowd can find. A chant has broken out, “Weeee want Shing,…..Weeeee want Shing,…..Weeeee….” Booker: “I’ve prepared a very short, simple and to the point statement, which I will read now. (reaches into his pocket, and unfolds a small piece of paper…..clears his throat). I’m back. Thank you.” With that, the three sneer at Jambo and proceed to exit the room. Founder and Acting President of the Shing Haters Clubs of North Amerca, who's membership is growing daily. Call 1-900-KIL-SHING for more information. Current officers include theBooker, President - JimWilly, VP of Operations - EricL, Treasurer - Ants, Sr. Director of Equip. Procurement & QA - Lordrandall & Bill99GXE, Field Covert Operatives. SHCoNA - Membership Has Its Privledges!
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