During Summer Games
“I’m the BEST! Aroooound!” Bobby Dean sings out cheerily as he stumbles and staggers his way backstage intoxicated with his first CWF victory, receiving slaps on the back as he goes.
He stops before a stage hand, high fiving him (well, Bobby slapped his hand, but it certainly wasn’t because the guy wanted a high five.) “Say it,” Bobby demands, pointing at the stage hand.
“What?” the unnamed stagehand asks bewilderedly.
“Say it!” Bobby demands once more, adding a petulant foot stomp.
“Say what?” No Name answers, clearly confused.
Bobby leans in and whispers in his ear, when he backs up his smile is from ear to ear, but the no name stagehand simply shakes his head in refusal. Bobby leans in and whisper a little more urgently, as his smile begins to falter. Stage hand, once again, shakes his head. Bobby reaches into his tights and brings forth a woman’s change purse, opening it up with dainty, but swollen diabetes type II infused fat fingers he extracts what appears to be a five dollar bill. A sweat drenched five dollar bill. Reaching out, Bobby slips the bill into the waist of Stage hand’s pants, quite near the crotch of said pants. Bobby gives him a gentle but friendly pat over the area where the bill can just barely be seen and nods his head to the stage hand.
“He’s the BEST aroooound!” the stage hand belts out, singing as Bobby once again goes back to twirling around in his victory celebration, like a six year old who just successfully hit the ball off the tee.
Bobby dances and sings his way back to the locker room where he last left his bestest friend, Mikey Unlikely. But once he arrives he is filled with dismay. Where once his partner laid was now empty, save for the horrific chalk outline where Mikey was positioned just moments before.
“NOOOOOOOOOOOOooooooooooooo” pause for a breath, “oooooooooooooooooooooo!” Bobby is panting as he drops to his knees. And by drop, I mean he carefully, yet, awkwardly climbs down to the floor. “Why God!? Why!?”
As he raises his fist, ready to pound the floor in his grief, he pauses right before impact to simply slap the carpeted floor, while crying out, “He was too young dammit!”
“Hey, man, can you move out of the way?” a voice calls out from behind. “I gotta clean up that chalk, there buddy.”
Bobby turns and tries to look over his shoulder, but obviously that’s easier said than done when you’re 399-½ pounds. So Bobby climbs to his feet, once again, a feat in and of itself and looks at the man with suspicion in his eye. The man was of the janitorial profession, and in his arms was a Roomba.
With Bobby watching, the man sets the Roomba down and turns it on, causing the little dohicky to go to work, sucking up various dust bunnies, chalk, and whatever else can be found on the floor of a sport arena. Bobby smiles as he momentarily watches the Roomba go.
“Awww, Bobby Clean…” he mutters under his breath.
With the Janitor supervising the sucking action of the Roomba, Bobby staggers back out into the hallway. Without thinking (surprise surprise) Bobby subconsciously makes his way towards the medical bay area where the trainers and on site doctors work on the boys if and when they get injured in the line of duty.
Upon arriving Bobby is once again shocked, for there before him lies Mikey Unlikely. Covered in a white sheet from head to toe. The only thing visible is his head and that of Mikey’s right hand, hanging limply off the trainers table. In a state of panic, Bobby rushes (walks as fast as he can) over to his friend, and rips the sheet off.
“MIKEY!” Bobby screams out in anguish before he wraps his arms around him, shoving Mikey’s face into his sweaty chest. “Mikey! Oh Mikey! What have I done!?”
“Yogh… cag… ge… yod… tif… ouf… of my… fash…” the voice of his dearly departed friend calls out from the great beyond.
“What?” Bobby stammers as he looks down at his friend.
“I said, you can get your tits out of my face!” Mikey snarls and he reaches up and pushes Bobby’s sweaty titty away from his now sweat covered face. “I swear, I was having flashbacks to when my mom breastfed me! Thanks for ruining those fond memories!”
“Mikey?” Bobby can’t help but ask, wondering how his friend could still be alive. “Is it really you!?”
“Could the world really handle more than one of me?” Mikey asks seriously pondering the question as if it was one of life’s greatest questions.
“But, but, but,” Bobby stammers again, unable to voice the myriad of questions running through his head at this time. “I thought you died? I saw the chalk outline? What happened? Did you see I won for you? Are you hungry? What happened to you? Really though, are you hungry?”
Mikey rolls his eyes at his overprotective former friend, as he raises himself up to a seated position, his legs dangling off the end of the padded trainers table. “After you nearly killed me with that stupid cart of yours, I was rushed over. There was talk of possibly amputating, but luckily I was able to talk them down from such drastic measures. It’ll take some time, and some pretty heavy rehab but they think I can probably walk again without too much pain. I still can’t believe you ran me over, what were you thinking?”
Bobby, his bottom lip quivering, tears welling in his eyes, is interrupted before he can say anything as the on site doctor approaches, clipboard in hand.
“Ah, Michael, we’re all set.” the doctor announces as he steps up to Mickey’s injured leg. Without much care he casually lowers Mikey’s kick pad, causing Mikey to jerk and suck in a breath from the pain. Once the kick pad is lowered, a small cut is just visible across his shin.
“How bad is it Doc.?” Bobby asks, hovering over the doctor’s shoulder, looking on in abject horror at what he’s caused.
“As you can tell, this is one of the worst injuries I’ve ever seen.” the doctor responds deadpan.
The doctor pulls forth a brown colored band aid and without much ado, he rips it open and slaps it on Mikey’s leg. Literally slaps it on, causing Mikey to jump and howl in pain.
“Ow Shit!” Mikey says grimacing.
“All set,” the doctor announces, grabbing his clipboard and beginning to turn away.
“What!?” Mikey demands. “That’s it? You’re not going to put the cast on it? Where are my crutches? I’m going to need some serious pain meds, cause I’m seriously about to pass out from the pain here. Seriously! On the smiley face scale on the wall I’m easily a 9 out of 10!”
The doctor looks at his patient, as if he’s in the wrong medical field. He begins to wonder when he became a psychiatrist dealing with whackos. He begins to shake his head before turning to walk away when suddenly 399-½ pounds of half-naked pissed off Bobby Dean grabs the doctor by his lapels and lifts him off the ground, snarling in his face.
“You heard my friend!” Bobby says, his face inches away from the doctors’. “You fix his leg, now!”
“I… I… I already did.” the doctor mutters, wondering what more he could do for a cut the size of a paper cut.
“No!” Bobby growls, “You aren’t done!”
The doctor nods his head vigorously, He ducks behind a large stage box and pulls out some gauze. He begins to quickly wrap Mikey’s leg with the bandage as Bobby squeezes the doc on the shoulder to make sure he complies.
“No stitches! Can you believe it Flobby? Nearly decapitated my ankle!” Mikey says as he watches the doctor carefully.
“That’s not the correct term.” The doctor announces matter of factly. Mikey looks confused.
“That’s not my ankle?” He asked quizzingly.
“No, you got that part right, but you can’t decapitate an ankle, just a head…” The medical professional informs the pair.
Mikey waves this off, ignoring the doctor and turns back to Bobby Dean.
“Well whether I like it or not, you gotta help me out of here…” Mikey informs the rotund wrestler. “I mean, let’s face it, this is all YOUR fault” He says with a poke in the chest of Bobo, who eagerly nods his head in response.
With crutches in hand, Bobby Dean appears, leaving the arena through the back entrance. Mikey Unlikely piggy backed on Bobby’s back, arms crossed around his neck. The no name stagehand from earlier is standing there, looking on in amusement. Mikey nearly eye rolls with every step.
“Annnnnnnd Iiiiiii will always loooooove yoooooou!” the stagehand belts out, watching Bobby Dean carry his partner towards the parking lot and out into the dark dark world.
3 Days Later
Mikey Unlikely is in his hotel room walking around as if nothing were wrong with him, his crutches leaning against the far wall. Mikey presses play on the remote and stands in front of his couch. The TV lights up but we can only hear the sound, it’s Suzanne Somers and one of those awful 1980’s aerobic videos where everyone wears headbands and elastic.
Mikey starts squatting before doing the hip thrust combo move he’s perfected recently. He gets fully into the workout, and that’s when the front door of the Hotel room bursts open. Bobby Dean is there and he’s back with a large bag full of bandages under one arm and a four boxes of fresh baked doughnuts under the other arm or so the box claims.
Mikey dives over the couch, reaching for the crutches and starts to noticeably limp. Although completely out of breath, he slowly crutch walks back to the center of the room.
“Mikey, I brought break…” Bobby begins before seeing his friend on the floor of the hotel room, clutching at his leg. “Mikey!? What happened!?”
“Oooooooooh Bobby! Oh man! I’m glad you’re back! I was just trying to put some low pressure on the ankle, and see how it holds up, but it’s BAD man! Dammit!” He limps twice more, and tries to garner Dean’s sympathy.
Bobby throws the box of doughnuts in the air as he rushes across the room to fetch the crutches, returning to his limping friend with misty eyes. He hands the crutches to his friend and lays a reassuring hand across his friend’s back.
“Oh, I’m sooooo sorry friend.” Bobby says, croaking midway through. “I thought I’d get some breakfast for us with the new bandages, and here you are on the floor crawling for your life! I swear, I’ll never leave your side again!”
Mikey looks a little worried at that, and as Bobby turns to fetch the discarded doughnuts strewn across the floor of the hotel Mikey mutters, “fuck” to himself silently. Mikey watches as Bobby begins to pick up the doughnuts off the ground, blowing air across them before placing them neatly back into the box as if they weren’t just dropped on the floor.
“Here you go, breakfast is served!” Bobby announces with a flourish.
“They’ve been on the floor Blobby, I can’t eat those.” Mikey says with disgust, causing Bobby eyes to light up at the possibility of eating ALL those doughnuts. “Bobby, you really don’t have to stay with me. I’ll be okay.”
“No, no, no, no,” Bobby repeats over and over as soon as Mikey starts talking. “I damn near killed you! I’m going to be by your side until you’re 100%!”
“But I could be recovering from this for years and years!” Mikey says in disbelief.
“Then I guess I’m your plus one when your cousin gets married next month!” Bobby says with a genuine and eager smile.
“But, what about King and the Ringmaster?” Mikey asks.
“Who?” Bobby wonders as he stuffs his face with the sixth doughnut in a row.
“Jarvis King and The Ringmaster.” Mikey answers, struggling to reach for his nearby phone. “I got a call while you were out, we got our next booking. A tag match against the King and his Jester. For some fucking reason they think we’re tag partners.” He rolls his eyes as Bobby Dean’s light up.
“Do you think he’s like a real Ringmaster?” Bobby wonders aloud, causing Mikey to stammer to a stop. Looking at the fat man before him, tilting his head, wondering if he can’t be serious. “I mean, like a serious circus ringmaster? With the elephants and the clowns?”
“You’re an elephant AND a clown!” Mikey mutters, shaking his head.
“Do you think he’ll let me wear his top hat and hold his baton thingy?” Bobby again wonders aloud.
“I’d be very careful if I were you, asking about holding a man’s baton thingy…” Mikey deadpans back.
“My question to you,” Mikey asks, as he struggles to sit on the edge of the lone King sized bed in the room. “How am I expected to compete at Evolution? I’m out a good 6 weeks, maybe even more, my doctor says!”
Bobby sitting, uncomfortably, in the hotel desk chair, with his excess fat oozing out of the chair like the Blob, looks at his friend with sympathy. “I’ll do it.” he says with conviction.
“Do what?” Mikey asks, confused.
“I’ll face Jarvis King and The Ringmaster single handedly!” Bobby announces proudly as he rises to his feet, the chair stuck to his fat rolls embarrassingly.
Mikey slaps his hand to his forehead.
“I put you into this mess, I’ll get you out of it!” Bobby says, distractingly as he tries to extract himself from the chair. “I mean how hard could it be?”
Mikey waves down Bobby trying to get him to pump the breaks.
“Oh man you don’t already know?” He looks over to Bobo with his eyebrows raised. “Jarvis King is a LEGEND in the CWF!” He offers Bobby Dean. “The guy was around forever some time ago!”
Mikey begins to list off King’s accomplishments, each one worrying Bobby Dean just a little bit more.
“He’s a former GRAND SLAM champion! He’s held ALL the belts in CWF!”
Bobby looks worried, but not worried enough to stop him from his 10th donut. “But can he eat more doughnuts than me?” Bobby asks as Mikey ignores him.
“He’s already in the Hall of Fame” Mikey adds.
The rotund wrestler leans back in his chair, “I’ve been in like three of those. All you get is a silly t-shirt that doesn’t fit after one wash.”
“He was one of the best wrestlers in 2010!”
Even Mikey pauses and smirks at that one as Bobby has nothing snarky to add in response.
“The Good news is… This is the farewell tour Bobby! The guy is on the downside of his career. He hasn’t been the top of the show in about a decade! That’s a longgggggg time in Showbiz let me tell you! You miss a couple tv tapings on a sitcom, poof you’re toast!” Mikey loosens up a bit, looking down at his ankle still. “Sure he was in the main event at Summer Games, but with Dick Fury, Eric Dane, and MJF, I don’t think anyone even realized he was there!
“I mean let’s face it. How many guys have we faced, even together… well past their prime…?” Mikey asks honestly.
“There was the Dynasty guys, there was Bronson Box, Eric Dane, and those fucks, there was that weird 18 year old chick who somehow wore a mask and got everyone to believe she was like 38. ALL These people, way past their prime! I guess you could say that the Ol’ team of Mikey and Bobby Dean is pretty good at putting people out to pasture!” He offers up in a conversational tone.
Bobby Dean wipes a tear from his eye.
“No, No, No it’s ok….” Mikey says “I don’t need your emotions on top of what’s already going on here!”
“YOU SAID TEAM!” Bobby drops the donut box and lunges forward embracing Mikey, whose head is positioned over Bobby’s shoulder and quickly turning red. “Lert Gur Of mur you fat fckrr” Mikey barely squeezes out.
Bobby Dean again releases a sweet embrace of Mikey. The World’s Greatest Sports Entertainer sucks in wind like his life depends on it as the Name that Entertains looks on sheepishly.
“All I’m saying is we’re just a little hungrier….” He stops and looks at Bobby who throws the donut box thinking about his next meal… “No pun intended, hungrier for a win! He’s trying to cement his legacy, we’re trying to CREATE ONE!.... Listen to me…. Saying WE…. what the fuck am I saying?” Unlikely questions himself aloud. “Irregardless, King is busy dealing with women and life problems, I don’t have life problems, I pay someone to do life problems for me! That’s the plus side to being filthy rich and handsome! And you, Bobo, don’t have much of a life to have life problems!”
“Woah Woah Woah Woah….” Bobby interrupts. “Mikey, You still haven’t answered the mostest most important question!?”
Unlikely looks confused. He tries to think back.
“IS HE OR ISN’T HE A REAL RINGMASTER!?....AM I GOING TO SEE A LION AT THE SHOW!? THAT’S ALL I NEED TO KNOW!” Bobby asks loudly.
“Oh Fuck! The Ringmaster! You’re right!... Yes Bobby, turns out he WAS a real Ringmaster!” Mikey interjects.
Bobby’s eyes light up as does his smile. In his head he pictures 10 clowns exiting one small car, he pictures seals doing tricks on stage. He pictures a sword swallower, and a freak show. Mikey knocks him back to reality.
“But it didn’t last long, he’s probably not even that good. I’ve never seen him stick a chair in a lion's mouth or anything, so how good can he be?” Mikey questions. “He’s an abusive prick from what I hear, and although I’m very much used to answering questions about some Hollywood Abuse in order to obtain some big roles, it’s all fabrication AND LIES!” Mikey suddenly gets heated.
“You know what, I bet he didn’t even have a circus. I bet it’s all some IRS tax sham that he pretended to have a business for write off reasons… We’ve all done it.” Mikey reminisces to a simpler time.
“I don’t know to be honest, the guy’s had a nice little run here… hopefully you can knock him back a few steps… since you’ll be fighting this match alone.” He winks over at Bobby Dean.
“I can tell you this, You got lucky when you won that four way match! Now me? Had I wrestled it would have been over even faster of course!” Mikey says confidentially.
“Obvs” Says Bobby trying to steal another one of Mikey’s catch phrases with his other partner.
“Don’t!” Mikey says in response, not feeling particularly close.
“Now listen, I got a plan…. But it’s going to take something you’re not used to…”
“A Diet?” Bobby says fearfully. “You’re going to whip me into shape just like Eric tried?”
“WHAT!? NO!” Mikey raises one eyebrow, “Are you kidding? Bobby your fatness doesn’t define me… it defines YOU and I don’t care about YOU…. You’re on your own with the obesity issues!”
Bobby Fist pumps happily at the news.
“No, No, no…. What I need from you is a little finesse…” He says coyly. “OK here’s the plan, Let me lay it on you!”
The scene fades as Bobby leans in close to listen to Mikey’s genius plan.