The camera is focused upon the lettering on the glass door, as it pulls back the words "Sommerlund .... General Manager ... Backyard Wrestling Battlegrounds" can be seen.
Inside the office Sommerlund is busy preparing the daily reports. Tallying up the figures was a activity that normally he passed off to his assistants, but for reasons only he knew, he decided to do the books himself today.
The receptionist in the outer waiting room was too involved with painting her two inch long fingernails to notice anyone had entered and was now standing in front of Sommerlund's door.
A smirk coiled around Jungle Jim's lips as he figured he drop in and pay the boss a visit. The trick was getting in there. He didn't want to set up an appointment, that would be too lame, and he didn't want to shatter the glass, that would be just plain rude ...
Jungle Jim : ah ... what the hell
... he figured as he picked up a chair from the waiting room and tossed it through the glass door. The receptionist, unaware of the intruder, nearly jumped out of her skin as the glass shattered and the shards were sent flying thru the air, like miniature rockets blasting off into outer-space, in a thousand different directions.
Inside, Sommerlund jumped almost a foot out of his chair, causing the drink he had sitting on his desk to spill over onto the reports that had taken him most of the morning to prepare and ruining them beyond any more usefulness.
Jungle Jim stepped thru the open frame of what once was the solid glass door
Jungle Jim : you and me ... we got a problem
