Post by Steve Sinclair on May 31, 2019 22:26:22 GMT
“Quack!”
One Bester Freund is jogging along the road with Joe Jones. While Joe is just going at it without any issues, Bester meanwhile is laboring. Breathing heavy, sweating like a whore in church, his face is all red and looks to be in a lot of pain.
“Quack.” Joe says again. Bester glances over towards him wondering why he is saying quack every couple of feet.
“Quack.”
“Wha….” Bester begins to say but has to gulp some air. “What is up with that Mister Jones?”
“I quack know what you quacking.”
“Huh?”
“Quack quack Bester! Quack quack.”
Bester then just stops jogging all together. He is roughly 2 miles in of a 3 mile run that Joe made a five mile run without telling Bester. Bester bends over putting his hands on his knees and tries to catch his breath. Joe doesn’t stop jogging, he just starts doing laps around Bester.
“It should be your new favorite word Best. Quack!”
“Why? Whoah, boy, why do my feet feel like their ten tons?”
“Cuz you didn’t flush your system out Best. I told you to drink some water with your pancakes, but you didn’t want to listen. How, quack of you.”
“Well, can I have some water now?”
“Nope! You’ll have to quack it up.”
“Come on! That’s not fair!”
“Quack’s not fair!”
“Can you stop with the quacking! Like, that is getting on my nerves.”
“Ahhh! Poor Bester, all qucked and qucked up with all of the quacking. Poor little Bester.”
“That is making me upset.”
“And if you don’t win Monday night and win that Quack cup, I’m going to be upset too!”
“The what?” Bester says with a very confused look on his face. Finally Joe stops jogging and pops open his water bottle.
“Quack cup.”
“I don’t know what that is.”
“Well if you weren’t so busy sniffing Aubrey rotten crotch, then you know that the biggest thing in OCW is a duck. And that duck quacks, and I got you entered into the Quack cup. For a fee of course.”
“There is a duck is OCW? Where was I? Sleeping or something?”
Joe tosses Bester his water bottle and decides to fuck with Bester.
“Not just any duck. But a duck who is a highly skilled ninja.”
“What?”
“Black belt, third power shit too. He’s undefeated.”
“Wait? The duck wrestles?”
“He’s going to challenge Mike Best for the OCW Title.”
“Mister Best? Who is that? What happened to Mister Meyhu?”
“He lost a long time ago to some guy named Paul.”
“Really?”
“And Mike Best, bested Paul. And now, the Duck is gunning for him.”
“Is that his nickname or something?”
“No, the white feather of death is his nickname. He’s a lean mean fighting machine. All 9 pounds of him.”
“So he’s really a duck?”
“What part are you confused about?”
Bester stands up and thinks about it for a minute. He takes a sip of water.
“A duck?”
“He issued a challenge to find himself a worthy opponent, and the winner of the Quack cup, which you are apart of, gets to face off against the duck and he’s putting his shot at Mike Best and the belt on the line. Beat the duck, you get to face Mike Best. It’s as simple as that.”
“A duck?”
“Yuppers! Web feet, yellow break, lightning fast reflexes. Deadly little fucker he is. No one has been able to defeat him.”
“A duck?”
“You just worry about this first match, win this match and then we’ll work on winning the Quack cup. Now, get stepping! We still have a long ways to go to get that car.”
Joe pats Bester on the shoulder and jogs off. Bester finishes the water bottle and pops the top back down and it has him puzzled now. The burning question on his mind.
“How do you wrestle a duck?”
Scene opens up with Bester at a park, along the water’s edge with a bag of day old stale bread, broken up into bite size pieces. Seated next to him on the bench is the stuff baby monkey that Aubrey gave to him. Fresh from a bath and being dried out with a hand drier after the night of parting at Jame Kelloggs’s Bad Ass Hotel and looking better than ever. The stuffed baby monkey has a name now. Monkey is it’s name.
Holding the bag in one hand, Bester pulls out some pieces of bread and tosses them out by the water where a flock of ducks have gathered, all quacking and swimming around eyeing the bread crumbs from Bester and boy, they want those bread crumbs.
“Monkey.” Bester says as he tosses a couple more out, some of them ending up in the water and the ducks gobble them up.
“I miss Miss...I mean Aubrey. She was perhaps the best thing to happen in my life. Well besides my kitty Spartacus that is. I wish he wouldn’t be so mean to you Mister Monkey. I don’t like how he bites you either. But you’re all I have left from Aubrey. No pictures. No letters. Just you and you are very special to me. I never knew what love was till I meet Aubrey. It has bitten me Mister Monkey. Bitten me hard. So hard that I’m not sure if I’ll ever love again. Listen.”
Bester glances down at the monkey and tosses a few more bread crumbs out.
“I know I am a special guy. My mommy would tell me that all the time. My football coach in high school asked me I don’t know how many times Mister Monkey, if I was special and every time, I would tell my coach that my mommy says I am, so I guess I am coach! Even after leading the team to state, the girls in my class, the cheerleaders. None of them would treat me like they treated Jared. Jared was the quarterback. He got lots of babes Mister Monkey. Senior year, three of the cheerleaders were having his baby. So lucky he was. He was going to be a daddy three times over.”
Bester places his hand in the bag of bread crumbs and pauses.
“I want to be a dad someday Mister monkey.”
Time stands still for a brief moment in time. Bester wipes a tear that was forming in his eye.
“I thought I found a girl that was going to help me become a dad. And a husband. I guess I thought wrong and now all I got is you Mister Monkey.”
Bester tosses some bread crumbs to some very impatient ducks.
“Mister Jones says that there's more fish in the sea and that I need to rebait my rod and toss it back in the water. Mister Jones says that there is a girl for every boy and a boy for every boy. If you do the math, there should be a bunch of girls who can’t find a boy like me. Mister Jones also said that I need to get back to work too. He’s right Mister monkey and I don't like to say that right now because I’m mad at Mister Jones. But I do need to get back to work. I looked at my checking account and Mister Welsh hasn’t paid me in a couple of weeks now. Oh I called the office to make sure they mail out my paycheck and the nice lady there said that because I haven’t wrestled in so long that I’m not owed any money. I need to send a check to Mister Sharpe. What’s that? Oh Mister Sharpe is my lawyer for my kitty Spartacus. It’s a long story and maybe I’ll tell you about it someday, but Mister Sharpe needs to get paid so he can keep my kitty out of kitty jail and off of kitty death row.”
Bester feeds the ducks again. He watches them.
“How do you wrestle a duck Mister Monkey? I have a match against Mister Farthington. I don’t know too much about him. Mister Jones tells me he’s been in the OCW for a while now and you best know who he is real quick or it’ll be a quick match. See. I can tell that Mister Jones is mad at me, I'm mad at him too. I think he's pulling my leg about the wrestling duck. I’m not too sure about this quack cup either. Mister Jones could have made that up too. This I do know Mister monkey. Like my mommy used to say! You missed the bus again didn’t you? You knucklehead! And then mommy or one of my uncles would drive me to school. To tell you the truth, I would miss the bus on purpose. Not that I wanted one of my many Uncles driving me to school, but there was a kid on the bus and his name was Cecil. He was a black kid, one of only a handful of colored kids at the school. He would hit me and trip me all the time on the bus. He would pick his nose and stick his boogers in my hair and laugh at me, point it out to everyone. Then he would jump on me and hit me for no reason whatsoever. I did not like Cecil. Even when I was on the football team, he would pick on me. Even after I went to college and then signed with the Cards and played in the NFL, At the ten year high school anniversary he would pick on me and call me names. Meanwhile do you know what Cecil did with his life? He got fat.”
Bester sighs.
“When Mister Jones told me who I was wrestling this week and as soon as I heard the name Cecil. I, I just got very angry Mister monkey. I always wanted to punch Cecil and get back at him for all of the abuse he did to me! Now that I am a pro wrestler and I’m not afraid to hit someone, I am so ready to punch Cecil! I know! I know! Mister Farthington is not Cecil from high school. But. Truth be told, I bet he bullied kids in school too. He seems like type. Anyone who knows me knows I don’t like meanies or bullies. Somewhere out there, there is a Rainbow Warrior who has a Cecil in their life and come Monday, It will not be a good night for Cecil. I’m going to stand up to the Cecils of the world for myself and for my Rainbow Warriors! I don’t know what to make about this quack cup and I don’t think someone is actually going to wrestle a duck at the end of this thing, but I know this one thing! For the ten minutes I’m in that ring, I will forget about Mister Jones and what he did to my Aubrey, I won’t feel my broken heart! I won’t feel sad. But I will get my revenge for the boogers in my hair! The black and blues on my arms. The tears that I shed and how my back hurt when I was checked into a locker by that meanie! Monday night Mister monkey! I get my revenge!”
Bester than leaps from the bench and lunges towards the ducks, chasing them away.
“That’s what I thought!”
Fade out.
One Bester Freund is jogging along the road with Joe Jones. While Joe is just going at it without any issues, Bester meanwhile is laboring. Breathing heavy, sweating like a whore in church, his face is all red and looks to be in a lot of pain.
“Quack.” Joe says again. Bester glances over towards him wondering why he is saying quack every couple of feet.
“Quack.”
“Wha….” Bester begins to say but has to gulp some air. “What is up with that Mister Jones?”
“I quack know what you quacking.”
“Huh?”
“Quack quack Bester! Quack quack.”
Bester then just stops jogging all together. He is roughly 2 miles in of a 3 mile run that Joe made a five mile run without telling Bester. Bester bends over putting his hands on his knees and tries to catch his breath. Joe doesn’t stop jogging, he just starts doing laps around Bester.
“It should be your new favorite word Best. Quack!”
“Why? Whoah, boy, why do my feet feel like their ten tons?”
“Cuz you didn’t flush your system out Best. I told you to drink some water with your pancakes, but you didn’t want to listen. How, quack of you.”
“Well, can I have some water now?”
“Nope! You’ll have to quack it up.”
“Come on! That’s not fair!”
“Quack’s not fair!”
“Can you stop with the quacking! Like, that is getting on my nerves.”
“Ahhh! Poor Bester, all qucked and qucked up with all of the quacking. Poor little Bester.”
“That is making me upset.”
“And if you don’t win Monday night and win that Quack cup, I’m going to be upset too!”
“The what?” Bester says with a very confused look on his face. Finally Joe stops jogging and pops open his water bottle.
“Quack cup.”
“I don’t know what that is.”
“Well if you weren’t so busy sniffing Aubrey rotten crotch, then you know that the biggest thing in OCW is a duck. And that duck quacks, and I got you entered into the Quack cup. For a fee of course.”
“There is a duck is OCW? Where was I? Sleeping or something?”
Joe tosses Bester his water bottle and decides to fuck with Bester.
“Not just any duck. But a duck who is a highly skilled ninja.”
“What?”
“Black belt, third power shit too. He’s undefeated.”
“Wait? The duck wrestles?”
“He’s going to challenge Mike Best for the OCW Title.”
“Mister Best? Who is that? What happened to Mister Meyhu?”
“He lost a long time ago to some guy named Paul.”
“Really?”
“And Mike Best, bested Paul. And now, the Duck is gunning for him.”
“Is that his nickname or something?”
“No, the white feather of death is his nickname. He’s a lean mean fighting machine. All 9 pounds of him.”
“So he’s really a duck?”
“What part are you confused about?”
Bester stands up and thinks about it for a minute. He takes a sip of water.
“A duck?”
“He issued a challenge to find himself a worthy opponent, and the winner of the Quack cup, which you are apart of, gets to face off against the duck and he’s putting his shot at Mike Best and the belt on the line. Beat the duck, you get to face Mike Best. It’s as simple as that.”
“A duck?”
“Yuppers! Web feet, yellow break, lightning fast reflexes. Deadly little fucker he is. No one has been able to defeat him.”
“A duck?”
“You just worry about this first match, win this match and then we’ll work on winning the Quack cup. Now, get stepping! We still have a long ways to go to get that car.”
Joe pats Bester on the shoulder and jogs off. Bester finishes the water bottle and pops the top back down and it has him puzzled now. The burning question on his mind.
“How do you wrestle a duck?”
Scene opens up with Bester at a park, along the water’s edge with a bag of day old stale bread, broken up into bite size pieces. Seated next to him on the bench is the stuff baby monkey that Aubrey gave to him. Fresh from a bath and being dried out with a hand drier after the night of parting at Jame Kelloggs’s Bad Ass Hotel and looking better than ever. The stuffed baby monkey has a name now. Monkey is it’s name.
Holding the bag in one hand, Bester pulls out some pieces of bread and tosses them out by the water where a flock of ducks have gathered, all quacking and swimming around eyeing the bread crumbs from Bester and boy, they want those bread crumbs.
“Monkey.” Bester says as he tosses a couple more out, some of them ending up in the water and the ducks gobble them up.
“I miss Miss...I mean Aubrey. She was perhaps the best thing to happen in my life. Well besides my kitty Spartacus that is. I wish he wouldn’t be so mean to you Mister Monkey. I don’t like how he bites you either. But you’re all I have left from Aubrey. No pictures. No letters. Just you and you are very special to me. I never knew what love was till I meet Aubrey. It has bitten me Mister Monkey. Bitten me hard. So hard that I’m not sure if I’ll ever love again. Listen.”
Bester glances down at the monkey and tosses a few more bread crumbs out.
“I know I am a special guy. My mommy would tell me that all the time. My football coach in high school asked me I don’t know how many times Mister Monkey, if I was special and every time, I would tell my coach that my mommy says I am, so I guess I am coach! Even after leading the team to state, the girls in my class, the cheerleaders. None of them would treat me like they treated Jared. Jared was the quarterback. He got lots of babes Mister Monkey. Senior year, three of the cheerleaders were having his baby. So lucky he was. He was going to be a daddy three times over.”
Bester places his hand in the bag of bread crumbs and pauses.
“I want to be a dad someday Mister monkey.”
Time stands still for a brief moment in time. Bester wipes a tear that was forming in his eye.
“I thought I found a girl that was going to help me become a dad. And a husband. I guess I thought wrong and now all I got is you Mister Monkey.”
Bester tosses some bread crumbs to some very impatient ducks.
“Mister Jones says that there's more fish in the sea and that I need to rebait my rod and toss it back in the water. Mister Jones says that there is a girl for every boy and a boy for every boy. If you do the math, there should be a bunch of girls who can’t find a boy like me. Mister Jones also said that I need to get back to work too. He’s right Mister monkey and I don't like to say that right now because I’m mad at Mister Jones. But I do need to get back to work. I looked at my checking account and Mister Welsh hasn’t paid me in a couple of weeks now. Oh I called the office to make sure they mail out my paycheck and the nice lady there said that because I haven’t wrestled in so long that I’m not owed any money. I need to send a check to Mister Sharpe. What’s that? Oh Mister Sharpe is my lawyer for my kitty Spartacus. It’s a long story and maybe I’ll tell you about it someday, but Mister Sharpe needs to get paid so he can keep my kitty out of kitty jail and off of kitty death row.”
Bester feeds the ducks again. He watches them.
“How do you wrestle a duck Mister Monkey? I have a match against Mister Farthington. I don’t know too much about him. Mister Jones tells me he’s been in the OCW for a while now and you best know who he is real quick or it’ll be a quick match. See. I can tell that Mister Jones is mad at me, I'm mad at him too. I think he's pulling my leg about the wrestling duck. I’m not too sure about this quack cup either. Mister Jones could have made that up too. This I do know Mister monkey. Like my mommy used to say! You missed the bus again didn’t you? You knucklehead! And then mommy or one of my uncles would drive me to school. To tell you the truth, I would miss the bus on purpose. Not that I wanted one of my many Uncles driving me to school, but there was a kid on the bus and his name was Cecil. He was a black kid, one of only a handful of colored kids at the school. He would hit me and trip me all the time on the bus. He would pick his nose and stick his boogers in my hair and laugh at me, point it out to everyone. Then he would jump on me and hit me for no reason whatsoever. I did not like Cecil. Even when I was on the football team, he would pick on me. Even after I went to college and then signed with the Cards and played in the NFL, At the ten year high school anniversary he would pick on me and call me names. Meanwhile do you know what Cecil did with his life? He got fat.”
Bester sighs.
“When Mister Jones told me who I was wrestling this week and as soon as I heard the name Cecil. I, I just got very angry Mister monkey. I always wanted to punch Cecil and get back at him for all of the abuse he did to me! Now that I am a pro wrestler and I’m not afraid to hit someone, I am so ready to punch Cecil! I know! I know! Mister Farthington is not Cecil from high school. But. Truth be told, I bet he bullied kids in school too. He seems like type. Anyone who knows me knows I don’t like meanies or bullies. Somewhere out there, there is a Rainbow Warrior who has a Cecil in their life and come Monday, It will not be a good night for Cecil. I’m going to stand up to the Cecils of the world for myself and for my Rainbow Warriors! I don’t know what to make about this quack cup and I don’t think someone is actually going to wrestle a duck at the end of this thing, but I know this one thing! For the ten minutes I’m in that ring, I will forget about Mister Jones and what he did to my Aubrey, I won’t feel my broken heart! I won’t feel sad. But I will get my revenge for the boogers in my hair! The black and blues on my arms. The tears that I shed and how my back hurt when I was checked into a locker by that meanie! Monday night Mister monkey! I get my revenge!”
Bester than leaps from the bench and lunges towards the ducks, chasing them away.
“That’s what I thought!”
Fade out.