"Okay, are you ready?"
Terrence sighed. "Yes, Rhea."
"Taa-daaa!" His blindfold vanished, to reveal...
... the TV? Terrence glanced at it quizzically, then up at Rhea. "It's a TV," he observed.
Rhea frowned and cleared her throat. Lisa chuckled. "Whoops," the redhead said, "I hit the wrong button." She aimed the remote and
pressed Play.
The screen lit up, showing a video that was quite obviously the work of an amateur holding an expensive camera. "This is just the promo shoot," Rhea
explained. "We'd need to do some heavy editing before it could go on the air."
"Uh-huh," Terr grunted, a sinking feeling forming in his stomach. Why was he on the screen?
He had to admit, though, he looked pretty good. Especially fighting those Warriors.
"-- tired of getting beat up?" a man was saying in a voiceover. The screen cut to a close up of a black-eyed and bruised Warrior staring morosely at
the camera. "Are you tired of not being tough enough?" Another shot, this one of the same Warrior -- which, Terr suspected, was just a guy in
makeup, he didn't carry himself like a true Warrior -- looking dejected as two women sniffed and turned their backs on him. The scene changed back to Terr
as he football-spiked a blade-wielding Warrior into the surf. "Then NO MORE!"
The camera zoomed in on Terrence as he raised his eyes to stare into the sunset, his lips set in a determined scowl. There was a moment of silence.
"Terrence Knight Body Spray," the announcer whispered, as the scene faded to the Warrior applying a mist to himself from an angry-looking can in the
middle of a deserted intersection -- possibly Boomtown. The Warrior looked startled, then was buried under a mob of axe-wielding enemies and screaming,
fawning fangirls. He fell to beating the living daylights out of the former and sneaking kisses from the latter as the camera pulled back to show hundreds
more streaming in from all sides.
"IT'S ALL THE RAAAAAAGE!" the announcer screamed. The commerical ended with a screen full of letters in a tiny font and a high-pitched squeal
that might, if one possessed super-hearing, have been a disclaimer.
The screen went to static, and Lisa clicked Stop.
"Well?" Rhea beamed.
"What the hell, Rhea?" Terr barked, still staring at the screen. "No!"
"Awwww...." Rhea pouted.
Lisa cleared her throat. "What exactly is that ... stuff?"
Rhea produced a can and offered it. "I think it's just Axe with a different label," she said, shrugging. "It smells good, anyway. It
doesn't smell like Terr or anything."
Terrence raised an eyebrow. Rhea blinked, then covered her mouth. Lisa choked back a laugh.
"Oh, Terr, I didn't mean to -- I mean -- um... sorry?"
Terr rose to his feet. "I'm going to go take a shower," he rumbled. As he entered the hallway, he called back over his shoulder, "And NO!
I said no to the... toys, and I'm saying no to this!"
"I think you owe him an apology, Rhea," Lisa said as Terr stomped down the hall. As he entered the bathroom, he heard Rhea sigh.
"Yeah... you remember where I left the catgirl suit?"
--sofaspud
--"Listening to your kid is the audio equivalent of a Salvador Dali painting, Spud." --OpMegs
Terrence sighed. "Yes, Rhea."
"Taa-daaa!" His blindfold vanished, to reveal...
... the TV? Terrence glanced at it quizzically, then up at Rhea. "It's a TV," he observed.
Rhea frowned and cleared her throat. Lisa chuckled. "Whoops," the redhead said, "I hit the wrong button." She aimed the remote and
pressed Play.
The screen lit up, showing a video that was quite obviously the work of an amateur holding an expensive camera. "This is just the promo shoot," Rhea
explained. "We'd need to do some heavy editing before it could go on the air."
"Uh-huh," Terr grunted, a sinking feeling forming in his stomach. Why was he on the screen?
He had to admit, though, he looked pretty good. Especially fighting those Warriors.
"-- tired of getting beat up?" a man was saying in a voiceover. The screen cut to a close up of a black-eyed and bruised Warrior staring morosely at
the camera. "Are you tired of not being tough enough?" Another shot, this one of the same Warrior -- which, Terr suspected, was just a guy in
makeup, he didn't carry himself like a true Warrior -- looking dejected as two women sniffed and turned their backs on him. The scene changed back to Terr
as he football-spiked a blade-wielding Warrior into the surf. "Then NO MORE!"
The camera zoomed in on Terrence as he raised his eyes to stare into the sunset, his lips set in a determined scowl. There was a moment of silence.
"Terrence Knight Body Spray," the announcer whispered, as the scene faded to the Warrior applying a mist to himself from an angry-looking can in the
middle of a deserted intersection -- possibly Boomtown. The Warrior looked startled, then was buried under a mob of axe-wielding enemies and screaming,
fawning fangirls. He fell to beating the living daylights out of the former and sneaking kisses from the latter as the camera pulled back to show hundreds
more streaming in from all sides.
"IT'S ALL THE RAAAAAAGE!" the announcer screamed. The commerical ended with a screen full of letters in a tiny font and a high-pitched squeal
that might, if one possessed super-hearing, have been a disclaimer.
The screen went to static, and Lisa clicked Stop.
"Well?" Rhea beamed.
"What the hell, Rhea?" Terr barked, still staring at the screen. "No!"
"Awwww...." Rhea pouted.
Lisa cleared her throat. "What exactly is that ... stuff?"
Rhea produced a can and offered it. "I think it's just Axe with a different label," she said, shrugging. "It smells good, anyway. It
doesn't smell like Terr or anything."
Terrence raised an eyebrow. Rhea blinked, then covered her mouth. Lisa choked back a laugh.
"Oh, Terr, I didn't mean to -- I mean -- um... sorry?"
Terr rose to his feet. "I'm going to go take a shower," he rumbled. As he entered the hallway, he called back over his shoulder, "And NO!
I said no to the... toys, and I'm saying no to this!"
"I think you owe him an apology, Rhea," Lisa said as Terr stomped down the hall. As he entered the bathroom, he heard Rhea sigh.
"Yeah... you remember where I left the catgirl suit?"
--sofaspud
--"Listening to your kid is the audio equivalent of a Salvador Dali painting, Spud." --OpMegs