Post by Jack Hammond on Feb 9, 2013 7:51:25 GMT -6
We find ourselves in another unusual setting for our latest Jack Hammond promo. This time, it appears to be a a cold, crisp morning on a TV studio backlot, large, frost-covered warehouses lined along an icy road where various people were busily going to, coming from or doing work between them. Carts, lights, props, actors, all of these things in a veritable maelstrom of humanity that moved to the rhythm and pulse of the entertainment they provided.
Within this madness sits a poor little Englishman, who has never looked more lost or confused than he has now, sat in a chair as people mill around giving him nary a glance, all too caught up in their own tasks.
Despite the ruckus going on around him, Hammond is able to pick out the camera that’s focussed on him, his expression of initial confusion and worry settling into something a little more comfortable, his voice being picked up by the microphone in his shirt’s lapel.
“A few days ago, after what was a rather satisfying return to nCw competition by beating an ex-American footballer on the night of the Superbowl, I had a call from my agent, letting me know that he’d accepted a lucrative offer for me to appear in my first ever TV commercial. So here I find myself on the set of a studio, waiting to be called in for my ‘part’.”
He looks around, the various members of staff still flitting to and fro in front of him, each intently focussed on exactly what they were doing. To any who may happen to glance in his direction, Hammond shoots them his best, albeit still slightly bewildered, smile, only for them to look away and continue with whatever task it was they were up to, leaving the poor wrestler looking slightly dejected.
“Thing is, I’ve not really been told anything and nobody seems to have the time to talk to me. I’m not sure what it is I’ve been signed up for. All I know, this could be some elaborate ruse by an enemy to fool me into shooting a porno. And trust me, considering the comments some people have made about me being cutesy, I wouldn’t put it past them. I do hope at the very least I’m the pizza delivery boy though.”
He allows a small smirk to rise to his lips as the joke seems to disperse some of his tension. Another quick look around and a sigh later though and Hammond is back to wearing a confused frown.
“Thing is, while this is probably very nice and all, this is slightly distracting me from the true matter in hand. Which is of course my upcoming match at Trauma wi-”
Before he can finish, a shadow moves over him, making him pause and look up in surprise. Leaning over him is a pretty blonde with a clipboard clasped to their chest, a headset covering one ear and a microphone infront of a set of perfect teeth that shined as they were bared in a lovely smile.
“Mister Hammond? Jack Hammond? You don’t mind if I call you Jack, do you?”
Before Hammond had a chance to even say ‘hello’, ‘yes’ or even a confused ‘what?’, said pretty blonde looked up, touching her earpiece and speaking brightly and clearly into her headset mic, the poor Brit left to look at the camera, his expression growing from a startled confusion to a deepening sense of worry as to what he was in for.
“I’ve got him, thank you. I’ll bring him right over for his makeup.”
A small pause followed by a giggle as whoever it was on the other end of conversation Hammond had no part of said something before she looked down and gently but very firmly picked him up by the arm, almost dragging him along as she took him to wherever he was supposed to go. As he took another bewildered look at the camera, hobbling and nearly tripping along behind the girl, she was chattering away, snatches of which Hammond was able to pay attention to, still completely off-guard in concern to where he was going.
“Now, we have a tight schedule to shoot this commercial. Thankfully, you only need to do a walk-on and a single line and we’ve shot everything else needed earlier. Your agent informed us that you should have no problem doing this sort of thing, considering the work you’re in. He’s also told us you work well under pressure and can achieve many things when focussed, so I’m sure you’ll be fine.”
The girl’s chirpy attitude and voice do nothing to calm Hammond down as she continues to hurry along, dragging him with her by the arm, deftly moving through the crowd of other workers. He, meanwhile, is being forced to dodge, duck and stumble behind her, not used to moving so swiftly through such a throng. He tries to apologise in the native manner for each person he bumps into, which only serves for him to either fail to pay attention to what the blonde was saying or the next oncoming person whom he would inevitably collide with and have to apologise to. All the while, the blonde continues to natter on about the specifics of the contract Hammond was under, what he could and couldn’t say, do or act while the camera was rolling and seemed to make it clear, even to Hammond in his bewildered state, how important it was for this to go off without a hitch.
We can see on his face how the gravity of the situation is becoming clear to him, managing to nod in agreement to what he was being told a few times (despite the fact that the girl never once looked in his direction for approval), before attempting to ask a few questions regarding what the commercial was about, only to be cut off by the blonde. Whether it didn’t matter, she didn’t hear him or most likely it didn’t matter what he asked, she continued to talk, never giving him much chance to get a word in edgeways.
Before Hammond has a chance to gain any sense of his bearings, he suddenly realises he’s being dumped in a chair in front of a mirror lined with lights and what appears to be several hundred kinds of beauty products on the desk next to it. A quick glance around and he finds that somewhere along the course of his conversation, he’s suddenly indoors, the blonde having now disappeared with a ‘just wait here please’ and another perfect smile.
Finally having had a chance to catch his breath, he peers around before slumping back in the seat with a sigh.
“I honestly don’t know what I’ve gotten myself into here. The only time I wear makeup is when I’m making fun of people who have gloomy personalities and launching into my ‘How Could This Happen To Me?’ routine. And one quick glance around here and there’s not even the slightest sign of emo mascara.”
He rummages through the various products on display, holding up a few pots, peering into them, giving one a sniff before wrinkling his nose and putting them back in no particular order. A shake of the head and another helpless look around and Hammond gazes back into the camera that’s managed to follow him into this makeup room.
“Well, if anything it does give me some time to stop worrying about what’s going on here and more time to focus on my upcoming match with a certain ‘Captain Howdy’. Humorous name, I’m sure you’ll agree, but the man behind the name is most certainly not in the mood for joking around, what with just missing out on the chance to have a shot at the X-Division title.”
He winces a little at the fresh wound on his opponent he’s probably just verbally prodded, knowing that would probably come back to haunt him. Hammond adjusts his stance in his chair, leaning forward slightly.
“Now, watching what this man has done, being a notable veteran of other federations, champions in them too, is enough to make me sit up and pay attention. That said, I’d sit up and pay attention if I had a match with anyone to be honest, I’ve not heard of anyone winning a championship by simply falling down or by lying on their back...aside from maybe Kelly Fox, but that’s besides the point.”
He clears his throat, casually smoothing over the equally casually tossed around insult he carried along and threw out as often as he liked, having had no real love for Ms. Fox in his previous tenure at nCw and having to have grown equally none since his return.
“Needless to say, he’s got quite the reputation. Not just for winning but for being fairly mean too. Now, I’m not saying he’s at what I like to call the ‘kitten stomper’ level of badness, but its seems he’d like to display himself as the ‘The Most Dangerous Man in nCw’. Now I could be crude and say that ‘dangerous’ could cover things such as being ‘dangerously close to insanity’ with his penchant for maniacal laughter, ‘dangerous’ in his dress sense with that lime green tuxedo of his, or possibly even ‘dangerous’ to himself with his self-berating split personality. I’ve heard of the term ‘arguing with oneself’, but Howdy seems to take it to a different level.”
Hammond puts his hands up disarmingly, smiling despite himself and the seriousness of the situation he’s putting himself in as well as the person he could be annoying at the other end of this promo. Nevertheless, he appears to hunker down now, his playful personality still in place, but his joking tone replaced with one that rings with a little more sincerity.
“Now you may be thinking if it’s all that wise to go and use my usual barbed ‘wit’, or what passes for it these days anyhow, on someone who declares themselves to be such a danger to anyone he faces. Bravado? Putting a brave face on a bad situation? Well, maybe, yes. If something awful is coming my way, there is no better solution to try and ease myself into it that by laughing in its face. Plus the expressions some people make as the get apocalyptically furious are enough to make my day.”
A small smirk that had been lurking on Hammond’s lips threatens now to break into a full-size grin as he continues.
“But you needn’t worry about me simply coming down to the ring and pull a bunch of silly faces. As interesting a way that would be to decide a match and as much joy it would fill me with to see a championship between, say, The Ace and Roberto Verona by the two of them gurning like idiots at one another, it doesn’t do much to win you a match. Unless you get a fit of giggles from it, in which case, game on. But if that fail, what I’ll bring rather than a silly smile or a snarky attitude is what I like to do best.”
The cheeky smile and quick wit of the Hamster that many people know and love is pushed aside in an instant by his less popular, but equally well-known personality. Warm charm and bright smiles replaced by cool stares and biting words, his eyes lighting not with amusement, but with a fire, a grim and powerful determination. A look that fixes the camera now, met with words that ring and echo.
“You see, from what I can tell, the good Captain has a knack. A perfect talent that I’m sure many will say he is unmatched in. His craft, who nobody can rival...and this, quite simply is to cause pain. His meticulous methods for breaking his opponents down, to make them writhe in agony and to beg, no scream for mercy. I’ve no doubt when it comes to it, he’ll do his utmost to do the same to me. I’ll wager he’ll even complete whatever foul plans he has in store and I’ll be left a broken and shattered shell of a man...at least, he’ll try.”
A smile once again parts Hammond’s lips, but not one of friendly humor or cheeky childishness that he is often prey to. This is a wild, confident smile, reflected in the mirror before him, reflecting the enthusiastic mood that is propelling this promo along now.
“I may not have all of your accolades. I certainly don’t have all of your skill or experience, key tools to get where you have in this business. Tools, which, by the way, haven’t seen you win all that much in you time here at nCw. But what I have is my own passion; and that is to win. I utilize my skill, my talent, every fiber of my being of who I am and what I can do to win.”
His jaw stiffens and his hands curl into tight fists, the conviction in his words being mirrored by his actions as he stares down his reflection, that confident and assured look on his face never once wavering.
“I’ve suffered loss and heartbreak, I’ve been pinned by the best and even pinned by the mediocre. I’ve been crushed, suffered tortuous pain and agony, humiliated and shamed. And yet, I know can win. Not through luck, not by chance or some divine providence. Not because I’m an underdog, the ‘good guy’ or because it’s my turn. I win because I’m the one who wanted it more. I win because I’m the better man that day. And right now, I believe I want it more...and I believe that today, I’m the better man.”
He chances a quick glance down at his hands, uncurling his fingers, his whitened knuckles flushing with color again, trying to suppress the shaking as the adrenaline leaves his system. Hammond rubs his digits gently before cracking his knuckles.
“Howdy, you say that when you’re in the ring, that playtime’s over. Well no need to worry, I’m not playing around with you. All my jokes are out of the way and put to bed. After all, beating a many-times champion in a guaranteed epic matchup?”
He looks up, a flash of defiance and a firey determination within them as he speaks his final words, soft and low, powerful and deliberate.
How hard can it be?”
Hammond finally allows himself to lean back and contemplate his own words, satisfied with what he’d said and the conviction behind them, genuinely looking forward to a tussle with another amazingly talented individual, mentally psyching himself up...until reality comes knocking at the door, the hand which is doing it of the pretty blonde from earlier.
“Ah, Jack, you don’t mind if I call you Jackie, do you? So glad to hear you’ve been practicing your line! We’re ready for you now if you’d like to follow me.
Hammond’s previous look of supreme and utter confidence seems to flounder all of a sudden, the cuddly and loveable Hamster persona slowly returning with its look of nervous and adorable confusion as he stands up.
“Uh...w-what about my costume? Makeup?”
A shake of the head from the blonde, her smile more dazzling than before as she giggles with amusement.
“There’s no need to worry about that, Jackie. Costume certainly won’t be important and as your agent told us, you look fine without it too. Now if you’d just follow me please?”
Hammond scratches his head, tousling his unkempt hair before shrugging and moving to follow the pretty girl, still none the wiser. He follows her down a dim corridor towards a door for the set, squinting in the half-light before something occurs to him.
“Hang on, what did you mean by ‘practicing your line’? I haven’t seen a script yet.”
The too-white smile on the blonde’s face finally seems to waver slightly, a look that could be passed as annoyance crossing her features.
“The line is ‘how hard can it be?’. Your, uh, catchphrase I believe. It’ll be the line you say to help market our product. We believe it fits very well with what we sell.”
Hammond nods slowly as if understanding. The blonde opens the set door for Hammond, light flooding the corridor now, the camera also adjusting to see what was beyond the door, but the new source of light makes it difficult to distinguish what’s there. Just as Hammond’s about to step through, he pauses as if noticing something, peering into the room. The camera finally adjusts to see past his shoulder, revealing what looks like a set made up to look like a bedroom with a gaudy, bright red heart-shaped bed in the middle. A distinctive style of music that sounds awfully like Barry White is playing lazily over the PA system and standing on the set are a much older couple with what appears to be dressing gowns around them, slippers donning their feet, but the old lady’s appearing to have heels.
Hammond, the camera and us as the viewers take this all in for a few moments in relative silence before the same question all occurs to us simultaneously and is finally asked by the Hamster, who very calmly and quietly turns to the blonde, still standing at the door, waiting for him to fully enter.
“I never did get the chance to ask, but, what exactly is this advert for?”
Our answer comes in the form of a wheeled pallet that is pulled past the camera and the object that’s on it as it gets placed next to the set. We can also overhear the elderly male actor talking to the female one, motioning to the object on the pallet that’s just been placed next to him.
“Let’s go over my lines one last time. I say ‘What can this blue pill do fer me?’ You say your line and then I pretend to take one. You look down and go ‘Oh boy! Look how hard it is!' Then this whippersnapper comes in and says his line, right?”
The look on Hammond’s face as he stares at the giant blue pill next to the elderly couple, to be frank, is utterly priceless as the scene fades out on his little predicament and his need to quickly find a new agent.[/font][/font]
Within this madness sits a poor little Englishman, who has never looked more lost or confused than he has now, sat in a chair as people mill around giving him nary a glance, all too caught up in their own tasks.
Despite the ruckus going on around him, Hammond is able to pick out the camera that’s focussed on him, his expression of initial confusion and worry settling into something a little more comfortable, his voice being picked up by the microphone in his shirt’s lapel.
“A few days ago, after what was a rather satisfying return to nCw competition by beating an ex-American footballer on the night of the Superbowl, I had a call from my agent, letting me know that he’d accepted a lucrative offer for me to appear in my first ever TV commercial. So here I find myself on the set of a studio, waiting to be called in for my ‘part’.”
He looks around, the various members of staff still flitting to and fro in front of him, each intently focussed on exactly what they were doing. To any who may happen to glance in his direction, Hammond shoots them his best, albeit still slightly bewildered, smile, only for them to look away and continue with whatever task it was they were up to, leaving the poor wrestler looking slightly dejected.
“Thing is, I’ve not really been told anything and nobody seems to have the time to talk to me. I’m not sure what it is I’ve been signed up for. All I know, this could be some elaborate ruse by an enemy to fool me into shooting a porno. And trust me, considering the comments some people have made about me being cutesy, I wouldn’t put it past them. I do hope at the very least I’m the pizza delivery boy though.”
He allows a small smirk to rise to his lips as the joke seems to disperse some of his tension. Another quick look around and a sigh later though and Hammond is back to wearing a confused frown.
“Thing is, while this is probably very nice and all, this is slightly distracting me from the true matter in hand. Which is of course my upcoming match at Trauma wi-”
Before he can finish, a shadow moves over him, making him pause and look up in surprise. Leaning over him is a pretty blonde with a clipboard clasped to their chest, a headset covering one ear and a microphone infront of a set of perfect teeth that shined as they were bared in a lovely smile.
“Mister Hammond? Jack Hammond? You don’t mind if I call you Jack, do you?”
Before Hammond had a chance to even say ‘hello’, ‘yes’ or even a confused ‘what?’, said pretty blonde looked up, touching her earpiece and speaking brightly and clearly into her headset mic, the poor Brit left to look at the camera, his expression growing from a startled confusion to a deepening sense of worry as to what he was in for.
“I’ve got him, thank you. I’ll bring him right over for his makeup.”
A small pause followed by a giggle as whoever it was on the other end of conversation Hammond had no part of said something before she looked down and gently but very firmly picked him up by the arm, almost dragging him along as she took him to wherever he was supposed to go. As he took another bewildered look at the camera, hobbling and nearly tripping along behind the girl, she was chattering away, snatches of which Hammond was able to pay attention to, still completely off-guard in concern to where he was going.
“Now, we have a tight schedule to shoot this commercial. Thankfully, you only need to do a walk-on and a single line and we’ve shot everything else needed earlier. Your agent informed us that you should have no problem doing this sort of thing, considering the work you’re in. He’s also told us you work well under pressure and can achieve many things when focussed, so I’m sure you’ll be fine.”
The girl’s chirpy attitude and voice do nothing to calm Hammond down as she continues to hurry along, dragging him with her by the arm, deftly moving through the crowd of other workers. He, meanwhile, is being forced to dodge, duck and stumble behind her, not used to moving so swiftly through such a throng. He tries to apologise in the native manner for each person he bumps into, which only serves for him to either fail to pay attention to what the blonde was saying or the next oncoming person whom he would inevitably collide with and have to apologise to. All the while, the blonde continues to natter on about the specifics of the contract Hammond was under, what he could and couldn’t say, do or act while the camera was rolling and seemed to make it clear, even to Hammond in his bewildered state, how important it was for this to go off without a hitch.
We can see on his face how the gravity of the situation is becoming clear to him, managing to nod in agreement to what he was being told a few times (despite the fact that the girl never once looked in his direction for approval), before attempting to ask a few questions regarding what the commercial was about, only to be cut off by the blonde. Whether it didn’t matter, she didn’t hear him or most likely it didn’t matter what he asked, she continued to talk, never giving him much chance to get a word in edgeways.
Before Hammond has a chance to gain any sense of his bearings, he suddenly realises he’s being dumped in a chair in front of a mirror lined with lights and what appears to be several hundred kinds of beauty products on the desk next to it. A quick glance around and he finds that somewhere along the course of his conversation, he’s suddenly indoors, the blonde having now disappeared with a ‘just wait here please’ and another perfect smile.
Finally having had a chance to catch his breath, he peers around before slumping back in the seat with a sigh.
“I honestly don’t know what I’ve gotten myself into here. The only time I wear makeup is when I’m making fun of people who have gloomy personalities and launching into my ‘How Could This Happen To Me?’ routine. And one quick glance around here and there’s not even the slightest sign of emo mascara.”
He rummages through the various products on display, holding up a few pots, peering into them, giving one a sniff before wrinkling his nose and putting them back in no particular order. A shake of the head and another helpless look around and Hammond gazes back into the camera that’s managed to follow him into this makeup room.
“Well, if anything it does give me some time to stop worrying about what’s going on here and more time to focus on my upcoming match with a certain ‘Captain Howdy’. Humorous name, I’m sure you’ll agree, but the man behind the name is most certainly not in the mood for joking around, what with just missing out on the chance to have a shot at the X-Division title.”
He winces a little at the fresh wound on his opponent he’s probably just verbally prodded, knowing that would probably come back to haunt him. Hammond adjusts his stance in his chair, leaning forward slightly.
“Now, watching what this man has done, being a notable veteran of other federations, champions in them too, is enough to make me sit up and pay attention. That said, I’d sit up and pay attention if I had a match with anyone to be honest, I’ve not heard of anyone winning a championship by simply falling down or by lying on their back...aside from maybe Kelly Fox, but that’s besides the point.”
He clears his throat, casually smoothing over the equally casually tossed around insult he carried along and threw out as often as he liked, having had no real love for Ms. Fox in his previous tenure at nCw and having to have grown equally none since his return.
“Needless to say, he’s got quite the reputation. Not just for winning but for being fairly mean too. Now, I’m not saying he’s at what I like to call the ‘kitten stomper’ level of badness, but its seems he’d like to display himself as the ‘The Most Dangerous Man in nCw’. Now I could be crude and say that ‘dangerous’ could cover things such as being ‘dangerously close to insanity’ with his penchant for maniacal laughter, ‘dangerous’ in his dress sense with that lime green tuxedo of his, or possibly even ‘dangerous’ to himself with his self-berating split personality. I’ve heard of the term ‘arguing with oneself’, but Howdy seems to take it to a different level.”
Hammond puts his hands up disarmingly, smiling despite himself and the seriousness of the situation he’s putting himself in as well as the person he could be annoying at the other end of this promo. Nevertheless, he appears to hunker down now, his playful personality still in place, but his joking tone replaced with one that rings with a little more sincerity.
“Now you may be thinking if it’s all that wise to go and use my usual barbed ‘wit’, or what passes for it these days anyhow, on someone who declares themselves to be such a danger to anyone he faces. Bravado? Putting a brave face on a bad situation? Well, maybe, yes. If something awful is coming my way, there is no better solution to try and ease myself into it that by laughing in its face. Plus the expressions some people make as the get apocalyptically furious are enough to make my day.”
A small smirk that had been lurking on Hammond’s lips threatens now to break into a full-size grin as he continues.
“But you needn’t worry about me simply coming down to the ring and pull a bunch of silly faces. As interesting a way that would be to decide a match and as much joy it would fill me with to see a championship between, say, The Ace and Roberto Verona by the two of them gurning like idiots at one another, it doesn’t do much to win you a match. Unless you get a fit of giggles from it, in which case, game on. But if that fail, what I’ll bring rather than a silly smile or a snarky attitude is what I like to do best.”
The cheeky smile and quick wit of the Hamster that many people know and love is pushed aside in an instant by his less popular, but equally well-known personality. Warm charm and bright smiles replaced by cool stares and biting words, his eyes lighting not with amusement, but with a fire, a grim and powerful determination. A look that fixes the camera now, met with words that ring and echo.
“You see, from what I can tell, the good Captain has a knack. A perfect talent that I’m sure many will say he is unmatched in. His craft, who nobody can rival...and this, quite simply is to cause pain. His meticulous methods for breaking his opponents down, to make them writhe in agony and to beg, no scream for mercy. I’ve no doubt when it comes to it, he’ll do his utmost to do the same to me. I’ll wager he’ll even complete whatever foul plans he has in store and I’ll be left a broken and shattered shell of a man...at least, he’ll try.”
A smile once again parts Hammond’s lips, but not one of friendly humor or cheeky childishness that he is often prey to. This is a wild, confident smile, reflected in the mirror before him, reflecting the enthusiastic mood that is propelling this promo along now.
“I may not have all of your accolades. I certainly don’t have all of your skill or experience, key tools to get where you have in this business. Tools, which, by the way, haven’t seen you win all that much in you time here at nCw. But what I have is my own passion; and that is to win. I utilize my skill, my talent, every fiber of my being of who I am and what I can do to win.”
His jaw stiffens and his hands curl into tight fists, the conviction in his words being mirrored by his actions as he stares down his reflection, that confident and assured look on his face never once wavering.
“I’ve suffered loss and heartbreak, I’ve been pinned by the best and even pinned by the mediocre. I’ve been crushed, suffered tortuous pain and agony, humiliated and shamed. And yet, I know can win. Not through luck, not by chance or some divine providence. Not because I’m an underdog, the ‘good guy’ or because it’s my turn. I win because I’m the one who wanted it more. I win because I’m the better man that day. And right now, I believe I want it more...and I believe that today, I’m the better man.”
He chances a quick glance down at his hands, uncurling his fingers, his whitened knuckles flushing with color again, trying to suppress the shaking as the adrenaline leaves his system. Hammond rubs his digits gently before cracking his knuckles.
“Howdy, you say that when you’re in the ring, that playtime’s over. Well no need to worry, I’m not playing around with you. All my jokes are out of the way and put to bed. After all, beating a many-times champion in a guaranteed epic matchup?”
He looks up, a flash of defiance and a firey determination within them as he speaks his final words, soft and low, powerful and deliberate.
How hard can it be?”
Hammond finally allows himself to lean back and contemplate his own words, satisfied with what he’d said and the conviction behind them, genuinely looking forward to a tussle with another amazingly talented individual, mentally psyching himself up...until reality comes knocking at the door, the hand which is doing it of the pretty blonde from earlier.
“Ah, Jack, you don’t mind if I call you Jackie, do you? So glad to hear you’ve been practicing your line! We’re ready for you now if you’d like to follow me.
Hammond’s previous look of supreme and utter confidence seems to flounder all of a sudden, the cuddly and loveable Hamster persona slowly returning with its look of nervous and adorable confusion as he stands up.
“Uh...w-what about my costume? Makeup?”
A shake of the head from the blonde, her smile more dazzling than before as she giggles with amusement.
“There’s no need to worry about that, Jackie. Costume certainly won’t be important and as your agent told us, you look fine without it too. Now if you’d just follow me please?”
Hammond scratches his head, tousling his unkempt hair before shrugging and moving to follow the pretty girl, still none the wiser. He follows her down a dim corridor towards a door for the set, squinting in the half-light before something occurs to him.
“Hang on, what did you mean by ‘practicing your line’? I haven’t seen a script yet.”
The too-white smile on the blonde’s face finally seems to waver slightly, a look that could be passed as annoyance crossing her features.
“The line is ‘how hard can it be?’. Your, uh, catchphrase I believe. It’ll be the line you say to help market our product. We believe it fits very well with what we sell.”
Hammond nods slowly as if understanding. The blonde opens the set door for Hammond, light flooding the corridor now, the camera also adjusting to see what was beyond the door, but the new source of light makes it difficult to distinguish what’s there. Just as Hammond’s about to step through, he pauses as if noticing something, peering into the room. The camera finally adjusts to see past his shoulder, revealing what looks like a set made up to look like a bedroom with a gaudy, bright red heart-shaped bed in the middle. A distinctive style of music that sounds awfully like Barry White is playing lazily over the PA system and standing on the set are a much older couple with what appears to be dressing gowns around them, slippers donning their feet, but the old lady’s appearing to have heels.
Hammond, the camera and us as the viewers take this all in for a few moments in relative silence before the same question all occurs to us simultaneously and is finally asked by the Hamster, who very calmly and quietly turns to the blonde, still standing at the door, waiting for him to fully enter.
“I never did get the chance to ask, but, what exactly is this advert for?”
Our answer comes in the form of a wheeled pallet that is pulled past the camera and the object that’s on it as it gets placed next to the set. We can also overhear the elderly male actor talking to the female one, motioning to the object on the pallet that’s just been placed next to him.
“Let’s go over my lines one last time. I say ‘What can this blue pill do fer me?’ You say your line and then I pretend to take one. You look down and go ‘Oh boy! Look how hard it is!' Then this whippersnapper comes in and says his line, right?”
The look on Hammond’s face as he stares at the giant blue pill next to the elderly couple, to be frank, is utterly priceless as the scene fades out on his little predicament and his need to quickly find a new agent.[/font][/font]