Wanna See My Stool?

If there is one thing that most people can agree on, it's that the permanent smile on the left side of Tony Gamble's face is something that can cause nightmares. Right now though, with his beady little eyes narrowing and the right side of his mouth becoming more of a sneer than a smile, it just looks awkward. The thing is, The Grin has never been an intimidating figure because of the way he looks at you or because of his size and presence, no he has a way of getting into someone's head and causing his opponents to make mistakes.

This situation is one he has never been in before though, so when the man standing in front of him runs his mouth about Olivia and he starts to get angry, he doesn't exactly know how to react. His first instinct is to duck under the larger man's arm, reach across the man's chest with his own arm, and drive the son of a bitch's back into the ground. The problem is that this isn't a wrestling ring, and the man in front of him isn't an opponent.

“I don't give a damn what the principal says about my kid, if she ever lays a hand on my son again I'll press charges for assault and sue your ass.”

At this point, all of the other parents in the classroom are staring at the man talking very aggressively to the PRIME hall of famer. Most are familiar with the man because of who his kid is, and how that kid has always been a bully to their children. At the end of the previous school year, Olivia was suspended for the last two weeks of school because she had kicked the boy pretty damn hard in a place she knew was going to bring him to his knees, before hitting him in the face with a rather thick math book.

It was a proud moment for him as a father to know that his daughter had stuck up for herself against a bully, but Victoria did not feel the same and would not allow him to part her on the back and commend their daughter for her actions. She was actually pretty upset about the situation, and felt it was Tony's own actions that had influenced her to use violence as retaliation to the boy's verbal abuse. Victoria and the boy's mother had been the ones to show up after the incident, so cooler heads had prevailed that day and the suspension was the only punishment, but things had changed since then.

Now, Eddie Cruz's little boy Nick had been assaulted by Tony Gamble's out of control daughter, or at least that was how Eddie planned to spin it on social media.

“After the stories I've heard about your kid,” Tony replies with a chuckle. “It would be worth it. I mean seriously, who goes around fat shaming kids that ain't even fat? I saw the photoshopped pictures he posted online of Olivia and her friend Violet, and I have to say I've seen Scott Hunter do better work with MS Paint.”

“Who the hell is Scott Hunter?”

“He's friends with…” Tony stops, realizing there is no reason to explain it to this man. “Your kid's photoshop skills suck, do I need to explain that to you – maybe draw you a picture.”

“Wait wait wait wait,” Tony looks to his left, and student everything fades away and we are no longer in a classroom. Instead, Frank Pastore is sitting across from him at a table in the corner of a local Applebee's – because where else do PRIME wrestlers eat?

“What,” Tony asks, unsure why Frank interrupted his story.

“You didn't deck the guy for talking shit to you?”

“I mean, there wasn't any reason to,” Tony looks confused. “Olivia had already taken care of his kid. This guy wasn't worth the paperwork I'd have to fill out to make it disappear.”

“Who the hell are you,” Frank laughs. “And what did you do to my friend?”

“What's that supposed to mean,” Tony asks as he reaches for his phone, which happens to be buzzing on the table.

“Maybe Olivia is rubbing off on you more than you know.”

“Hold that thought,” Tony grumbles roughly as he presses the button on the phone before placing it against his ear. “Uh, yeah?”

“It’s your goodest friend, Bobby, Bobby Dean,” The Bandit on the other side of the line sounds cheerful. “Sorry for waking you.”

=-=-=-=-=

The incessant knocking was starting to annoy me. I mean, didn’t the person on the other side of that door realize just how difficult it was for a man of my size to roll out of bed? The knocking continued in its annoying cadence.

The thud my body makes as it connects with the floor causes the persistent knocking to pause, as I groan out loud, thanking my lucky stars for the years and years of wrestling training. If I learned one thing in all my time as a wrestler it was definitely how to lie on my back.

KNOCK KNOCK KNOCK

Climbing to my feet is like a serenade from a 20 piece orchestra as bits and bobs creak and pop and groan. I think at one point even the wind section squeaked out a note or two. But through my vast perseverance I finally make it to the door, swinging it open with a flourish as I look through my bleary type two diabetic eyes at my angst filled teenage daughter standing before me looking all angsty.

“Woah!” my kiddo, Annabelle Dean, calls out when she meets my eyes. “What the fuck happened to you?”

I reach up and rub the gunk out of the corner of my eye with the back of my hand, confused by her sudden worry. “I just woke up, obviously.”

“Dad, there is something seriously wrong with your eyes!” she says, stepping back as if to ward the evil spirits away. “Don’t rub them!” her scolding words are accompanied by a swift slap on the wrist, but it appears she regrets her action as she looks down at her hand with trepidation, now holding her hand out as if it’s been contaminated with the green pus from my eye socket.

“Don’t worry about it, it’s just sleep boogers,” I answer, gently pushing past her as I make my way towards the kitchen for breakfast. As I near her she quickly throws her body back to collide with the far wall in her attempts to get as far away from me as possible.

“I don’t think so, Pop, I think you got pink eye!” she announces as if the name tag on her lapel reads Doctor Dean. “We should probably get you to urgent care and get those eyes looked at.”

I shake my head laughingly as I don’t bother to slow my stride towards the kitchen. Calling over my shoulder mockingly, “Yeah, can you imagine that. After all this time, I call up LT and tell her “Sorry Mom, I can’t work for the next month or so because I got pink eye.” She’d reach through the phone and strangle me, literally.”

“She takes one look at your eyes, she’s going to kick you out of the building, then set off one of those bug bombs but instead of insecticide they’ll be filled with Purell,” the pitch of Belle’s voice rises as the panic begins to set in. “Trust me, she won’t want you competing if it means you’ll infect half the roster with your leaky eyes. How’d you even get pink eye to begin with?”

My brain immediately goes to the other night when Doozer dragged me to some hole in the wall strip club. You know the ones, dim lighting, horrible stench, half naked ladies that you’d probably pay for them to put their clothes on, rather than take them off. The main event was a lady shooting ping pong balls outta her hooch. I tried to catch one in my mouth and just missed, who knew you could get pink eye from a stray ping pong ball!?

“I don’t have a clue!” I finally admit, failing to suppress the joyous smile from my cherubic face. “Probably Doozer.”

“Or could it be from that slut Malibu,” Belle ponders, mentioning a name that many have already forgotten. “Whatever happened with her anyway?”

“You know how it goes, kiddo,” I answer sheepishly, almost as if I were afraid to admit it. “Your dear old dad can’t seem to see anything through to the end.”

“Yeah, well, what in the world are you going to do about your upcoming match?” Annabelle asks before following up with, “If you’re not careful you could give the Furries pink eye!”

Hearing that my face lights up, the proverbial lightbulb ignites above my head. I turn quickly around and rush back towards my bedroom, searching for my phone and Tony Gamble’s phone number.

After the ringing of the phone a gruff voice mumbles through, “Uh, yeah?”

“It’s your goodest friend, Bobby, Bobby Dean,” I greet with cheer while still rubbing away at my eyes, basking in the sweet relief that comes with every rub. Story of my life. “Sorry for waking you.”

“Wake me? It’s 1 o’clock in the afternoon, I’ve been awake.” Tony grumbles back before following up, “What’s up Bobbo, what do you need?”

“Hey, are you busy? I’ve got an idea…”

=-=-=-=-=

Tony couldn’t believe it. The last time he’d been at a place like this had to have been near 20 years ago. Opening the doors and immediately being bombarded with the overwhelming noise, the familiar smell of stale bland pizza, mixed with body odor and stinky diapers, he can’t help but wonder for the hundredth time if agreeing with Bobby Dean’s idea was in his best interest.

A recurring theme for anyone dealing with Bobby Dean on any sort of regularity.

Nonetheless Tony walks to the front counter while reaching into his pocket to retrieve his money clip.

“Welcome to Chuck-E-Cheese! How many in your party?” the acne riddled face of the sixteen year old asks, looking around Tony to see where his child could be hiding. “Are you here by yourself?”

“No, my friend is already inside waiting for me.” Tony grumbles back, again wondering why Bobby picked this of all places.

“Oh, well in that case…” the greeter charges Tony the entrance fee and wishes him well during his stay at the best play-place on earth. With a shake of his head he makes his way further inside, immediately annoyed as several waist-high forms run into him as he attempts to part the sea of germ-ridden parasites, known as children envelop him.

Looking aross the room he spots his target, the largest man known to PRIME-kind, seated in a booth, miraculously, with four empty pizza platters scattered in front of him. Shaking his head for the umpteenth time, Gamble makes his reluctant way towards him.

“Bobb… Woah, what the fuck!?” Tony goes to greet his stablemate but upon meeting gazes he immediately retracts his offered hand as if he were mere moments away from holding up a cross with his fingers to ward off evil spirits. “What in the world is wrong with your eyes!?”

“See!” a faded voice calls out from three tables away, causing Tony to look over and see the familiar face of Annabelle Dean seated in her own booth, a Nintendo Switch in hand. “I told you people could notice!”

“Bah,” Bobby waved her words away with a meaty paw as another pizza platter is delivered to his table. “Come on, sit down Tony, join me.”

Looking at the red puffy eyes of Bobby imploring me to join him, Tony can’t help but to look back at Belle asking, “Is he contagious?”

“Definitely.” Annabelle retorts before throwing over a half empty bottle of hand sanitizer, which Tony snatches out of mid air. “You should be alright with that, but I would suggest you keep your hands and feet inside the ride at all times.”

With a bit of a grumble under his breath Tony reluctantly slides into the booth opposite the large man, quickly unloading an impressive dollop of bacteria killer into his hand. Rubbing his paws together he watches as Bobby proceeds to stuff his face with various slices of pizza, before finally asking, “Okay bud, you got me here, what’s on your mind?”

“I fink I av an ida on hi we ka wind.” Bobby mutters with bits of half chewed pizza spilling from the gaping maw known as his mouth. Tony, gently removing a piece of said chewed pizza from his forearm slowly begins to count to 10 under his breath.

Taking a calming breath Tony smiles and responds, “Want to try that again?” Holding his hand up quickly, to prevent Bobby from speaking, he reiterates, “Once you finish chewing, please.”

Swallowing an unhealthy amount of unchewed food, Bobby, in all his eagerness quickly carries on, “I think I have an idea on how we can win. In fact, Belle and I have been brainstorming all morning long, and we think we came up with some doozies.”

“No, please don’t include me in any of this.” Belle’s tired voice calls out as she doesn’t even bother to lower the Switch from her face.

“I was thinking, what if we called Animal Control?” Bobby offers, smiling myscheviously as thoughts of dog catchers running down the halls chasing two people crawling away on all fours, because obviously in his mind, if people are dressed as animals they crawl on the floor… “We can report an infestation and see if they can come out and capture the Furries before our match gets underway. Do we know what animal they like to dress up as?”

Shaking his head in utter disbelief Tony can’t help himself but to ask, “Does it really matter?”

“Well, we have to tell Animal Control what animal to be on the lookout for, don’t we? Or they might miss them?” The logic makes sense.

To Bobby Dean.

“I’m pretty sure no one will mistake who the Furries are, Bobby.” Tony still shaking his head, follows up with, “Next.”

“Uhm what about catnip?”

“What about it?” Tony fights the urge to facepalm, he really begins to think perhaps he should have said no when LT told him he would be teaming with Bobby. Then he begins to ponder, “was it even an option?”

Drawing his attention back to the conversation at hand, Tony listens as Bobby answers, “Well if the Furries are dressed like cats we can send a giant bouquet of catnip to their dressing room. Then, obviously, by the time our match comes along they’ll be high as a kite, looking for a belly-to-belly rub rather than a belly-to-belly suplex.”

“I’m pretty sure that’s not how catnip works, Bobbo.” Tony answers, but his voice begins to crack towards the end, and he secretly begins to think, is that how catnip works?

“I thought it was like cat Viagra?”

“Bobby have you thought maybe, hear me out here, but just maybe, we just out-wrestle them? I mean, I’m no slouch when it comes to cheating my way to a win, and you, well, you’re pretty good at cheering people on.” Gamble offers smiling confidently, as Bobby looks at him like he’s a simpleton.

“I can honestly say that thought hadn’t once crossed my mind,” Insert pizza into mouth. “But I do appreciate your out of the box thinking!”

“...”

“How about you just shake their hand before the match?” Annabelle asks in a bored tone, as if she would rather be anywhere than where she currently was. “I mean, pink eye is CONTAGIOUS!”

Tony Gamble scrambles out of the booth like his ass was on fire while screaming incredulously, “You’ve got pink eye!? Why the hell did you invite me here when you have pink eye?”

“Please, like pink eye is the worst thing here,” Bobby declares, pointing across the room while saying, “There is literally a kid licking the table top over there with snot running outta his nose…”

Tony makes the horrible mistake of looking, regretting it immediately. Turning quickly he starts to walk towards the exit, holding his hands up as if he were a hostage, afraid to touch anything! “See ya kid!” he calls out while quickly rushing past Annabelle’s table.

“See ya Uncle Tee, good luck!” Annabelle offers before turning back towards her dad and asking, “Can we go home please? I seriously need to go back to Mom’s for the next week or two…”

“Trust me kiddo, your mom has worse things than pink eye!” Bobby informs with a shudder of disgust.

=-=-=-=-=

Silence.

There is something calming about being alone that It enjoys, but it is the lack of someone trying to steal the spotlight It deserves that makes it taste even better – like cold cheese on pizza, with a Miller Lite to wash it down.

Yeah, that damn good.

Unfortunately, another good combination walks up to the star of the show and the Stool feels something warm on Its head as the two men stand on either side of him.

“Quick piece of advice, Queen Troy,” Tony begins, arms folded across his chest. “You really need to do something about some of the names that these tag teams are using nowadays.”

It is not the crumbs from the uneaten half of a bundt cake in Bobby Dean's hand either, but the Stool appreciates Bobby sharing as he nods his head. Wait…what the hell is wrong with his eyes!?

“You wouldn't believe how many pages we went through on Google trying to find info on the Female Furries,” Tony continues, shaking his head and wishing the smile on his face didn't hide the disgust he felt in his gut. “And while I don't want to pull a Pious Penguin and kink shame anybody – there are some really sick minded people out there.”

Bobby continues to nod his head, as a smile slowly stretches his lips further across his cheeks. The smile and cheeks the Stool is not afraid of. “Did you know Texas banned Pornhub? Thank god for VPN’s, huh?”

Tony pauses, looking at Bobby as if he’s seeing him for the first time, before shaking his head clear and continuing, “We thought we had finally found what we were looking for in a clip labeled ‘Female Furries wrestling in the ring’, but we were mistaken.” Tony points toward Bobby with a jab of his thumb in Dean's direction. “Bobby watched it at least twice; because he wanted to make sure it wasn't them, but he couldn't get a good look at their faces.”

Bobby lifts the hand without the cake in it, holding up all four fingers and his thumb before closing his hand into a fist and stretching out all four fingers and his thumb once more.

“I even paused it a few times,” Bobby actually pauses, gunk filled eyes shifting from left to right rapidly. “For research purposes of course. I will say, if either of them have a mole on their right cheek it’s 50% definitely them!”

“Either way,” Tony rubs the corner of his eye as he begins. “Since the only time Bobby and I have ever teamed together was in War Games,”

Bobby cheerfully interrupts with, “Which we won.” Tony takes a moment to take a deep breath before continuing.

“We’re on equal footing. Unless of course one of you does have that mole, then maybe we have a slight advantage. If not, then neither team has really seen the other working as a team.”

Tony rubs his eye again, sighing as he looks over at the crud filled eyes of his tag team partner.

“Regardless, seeing as word around town is that Queen Troy hand picked you two to come here, I'm pretty sure she scheduled you two to face us because she likes to punish me and I haven't really been too successful in the ring lately. Not to mention Bobby hasn't had a match in months, so there's a good chance he's going to be a bit rusty,” looking back he amends, “Crusty.”

Bobby lets out a slight moan as he rubs his eyes, maybe enjoying the relief it provides a little too much. Tony reaches for his own eye, then realizes what he was about to do to ease his own itch.

“Dammit Bobbo!”

“Now you know what I had to deal with.”

Bobby and Tony both turn toward the Stool, and It finally realizes that the warmth It felt earlier when they arrived belongs to the man no one ever sees. Tony throws his arms up in frustration before storming off, leaving the Stool alone with Bobby and Doozer as we Fade to Yolk.