Channy Boo and the Phantom of the Past

“A man don’t need to act tough if he is. Men that put on a show are spineless more often than not.” - Eric Powell ~~~~~~

It was a crisp, cool Autumn morning in South Florida. Patrons moved around the outdoor patio seating area of a local coffee shop, where a light breeze carried the delightful scents to the people sitting at their tables, sipping their drinks. Leaves drifted to the ground in the distance, the first sign of the weather changing from a blinding heat to a cooler, but still cozy, blanket of warmth. But it felt nicer somehow. It wasn’t a New England fall, but it was still nice. *bzzzzzz* “Come and get your brother before I kill him.” Emma looked down at her phone, pondering the text message from her father. She frowned down at the screen and let out a deep sigh. Her brother, Scott, had been going through a tough time. She knew he had driven home to be with Dad earlier in the week, but it sounded like his welcome was wearing thin. Fifteen minutes later, she found herself driving up the long, winding gravel road to their family home. She wasn’t sure what to expect, but she’d received no less than ten more texts from her father, one of which said, “Hurry, a few minutes ago I started praying for death.” When it popped up on the screen in the car, she wasn’t sure if it was a joke or not, but she wasn’t laughing. Her baby brother, as they say… was going through it. She pulled around the side of the white picket fence that ran alongside the drive toward the expanse of land behind the house, now fixed and much more functional, freshly painted, and near-new looking. She pulled up close to the garage door, parked, and opened the door. The gravel of the drive crunched under her feet, a sound that always comforted her for some reason. Something about being home, no matter how often you come back. It always gave her a center, an anchor. She knew it would always be there, and she fought for it. Climbing the steps onto the front porch, the wood creaked on each step, and a bird chattered from its perch on a bird feeder hanging nearby. From inside, she heard a voice call out, her father’s… “FOR GOD’S SAKE, SCOTT, WOULD YOU COOL IT!!” - and then a little softer - “I swear I’m gonna kill that boy.” Emma stopped at the front door, giving herself a moment to consider just what she might be walking into, then opened it and stepped inside. She immediately saw her dad sitting in his living room chair, feet up, his fists clenching the arms, white-knuckling it all the way. He immediately pointed at her. “Emma - you get in there and do something about him before I make sure he doesn’t see his next match…” Emma sighed, nodding, then headed toward the hallway. “Emma?” her father called after her, softly smiling. “Thanks.” She offered back the faintest of smiles and watched as her father relaxed a little, as if a doctor had just brought his pain medicine. She turned and headed down the hallway toward Scott’s room, and that’s when she heard it… Scott was singing, loudly… and BADLY. “BUT YOU DIDN’T HAVE TO CUUUUUUUUTT ME OFFFFFF!!!! MAKE OUT LIKE IT NEVER HAPPENED AND THAT WE WERE NOTHING!!!!! Emma let out a long, wide-eyed breath. “Oh Lord.” “NO YOU DIDN’T HAVE TO STOOOOOOP SOOOO LOOOOOWWWW!!! HAVE YOUR FRIENDS COLLECT YOUR RECORDS AND THEN CHANGE YOUR NUMBER!!!! She opened the door and involuntarily spoke softly to herself. “Oh my…” Sitting in a chaise lounge next to the window, wrapped up in a blanket up to his neck and looking out at the leaves blowing around in the cool morning air, was her brother, Scott. And, it smelled like Scott. The part of her brain that held her memories of growing up in the room next door to him was triggered - old sweatsocks and Funyuns, and a shiver went down her spine. Next to him on the small end table was his Bluetooth speaker, which he never forgot to bring when going on a trip, blaring out the soundtrack to his current malaise. “Scott!” she called out. Nothing. “GUESS THAT I DON’T NEED THAT THOUGH!!!” “SCOTT!!” she yelled again, more forcefully. “NOW YOU’RE JUST SOMEBODY THAT I USED TO KNOOOWWW!! SOMEBODYYYYYY!!!!” THAAAAAT I UUUUUSED TO KNOOOOWWWWW!!!! “This is stupid,” she muttered to herself and marched across the room. Without Scott noticing, she grabbed the Bluetooth speaker and yanked the power cord from the back, causing it to go silent. Slowly, Scott turned his head and looked up at his sister. He had the same sad puppy dog face she’d seen on him many times throughout their lives, usually as a result of something ridiculous, like the many times he waved at someone who wasn’t waving at him, or the time his, in his exact words, “favorite pen ran out of ink mid-doodle.” “What in the world has gotten into you??” she said, a sisterly look of concern on her face. He pointed through the glass at the trees and field outside. “Well, I was looking out the window and…” “Scott, I swear to God,” she said, interrupting. “If you say you saw a squirrel drop its nut again… it was ridiculous the first time you said it, and it would still be ridiculous now.” “Fine. I won’t say it. But it was a big nut and it looked really hard to carry. And he had…” (sniff) “...no one…” (sniff) “...to help him…” “Okay,” she replied, scooting him over and sitting next to him. “So this is about Kerry suggesting you train separately until after Colossus. Scotty, you’re really making a much bigger deal out of this than you have to.” He crossed his arms in petulant defiance. “Don’t be dumb. This has nothing to do with my best friend completely betraying me, telling me he doesn’t want to hang out anymore, and cutting off my access to his Netflix account. I told you what it was about!!” “Scott, come on,” she said, softening up a bit. But Scott was not deterred. In fact, he was even more irritated. “Did you even see the squirrel?? That nut had to be like thirty or forty tons!” Emma closed her eyes tight, then opened them up again, looking at her brother with a competing sense of exasperation and understanding. “Scott, I understand how you feel. It’s okay to admit that you’re sad about Kerry. But really, squirrels? And you’re telling me he stopped letting you use his Netflix account? Really?” Scott crossed his arms again. “No. But I just know it’s a matter of time before I try to watch my shows, and it says the password no longer works. I haven’t even finished watching Wednesday yet!” She frowned, determined to put an end to this nonsense. “Scott, it’s high time you stopped feeling sorry for yourself and got yourself back to your training. The whole reason any of this is happening is because you earned… Yes, you earned a shot at Kerry’s Five Star Title, okay? No one gave that to you. You earned it. So you need to get out of your own head and get back to work. Hard work got you there, but you can’t take your foot off the pedal now, or one shot might be all you get. Not to mention, I don’t know if you noticed, but you’re wrestling Chandler Tsonda this week.” Scott harrumphed. “I noticed.” “Okay, well,” she said. “What do you think is gonna happen if you take this mopey attitude into your match with him this week? The man is a certified legend, and he’s headed for his own shot at winning the Universal Title again. And to be honest, Scott…” Scott let his arms loosen up the tightness of their grip across his chest and glanced over at his sister. “What?” “Well,” she replied, a very serious expression now on her face. “I’m pretty sure he’s looking right past you.” Scott turned his head, looking behind him, but then understood, his eyes narrowing. “Whattaya mean looking past me??” Emma looked her brother directly in his eyes. She knew how to push his buttons. “Chandler Tsonda just won the Almasy. He won a shot at the Universal Title. He’s a former Universal Champion, a former Alias Champion, a former Tag Team Champion… he’s won the championship you’ll be challenging for at Colossus. I guarantee he doesn’t think you can beat him, Scott. And he’s not the only one who doesn’t think you can beat him.” Scott sat bolt upright, a fire starting to kindle in his eyes. “Who? Tell me who! I want names!” Emma stood up and started walking for the door, her back to him. She could hear him brush the blanket aside and jump to his feet behind her as well. “I said names, Emma! Addresses! Phone numbers! Netflix logins! Just in case Kerry’s doesn’t work anymore!” She stifled a small laugh, trying not to give herself away. “I’m just saying, I’ve been hearing things. Everyone says you’re just a warm-up match.” She turned around once more to face him, and she looked into the raging eyes of her baby brother. His expression was in full frown, no trace left of the sobbing, wrecked human being she had walked in on some half an hour before. “So you’ve been hearing things, have you?” He turned his head slightly, looking above and just to the left of her head, toward a corner of the room. “We’ll just have to see about what people hear and what they say and what they think and what they believe and what will actually happen! I’ll warm Chandler Tsonda up, alright! I’ll warm him up right good! No one looks past Scott Hunter if I have anything to say about it!” Emma quickly moved out of the way as he rushed past her and out into the hallway. She quickly followed, just in time to see him rush through the living room and through the front door. She stopped and waited, turned and looked at her dad, still sitting in his chair. “What’s that all about?” he said, gesturing toward the door. Emma walked to the door, following Scott. “I think he’ll be fine.” From outside the horn to her car blared, and the unmistakable sound of her brother’s voice called out. “ARE WE GOING OR WHAT???” Emma chuckled to herself, gave her dad a wry smile, and left.

~~~~~~ “Do not underestimate the ‘power of underestimation.’ They can’t stop you, if they don’t see you coming.” - Ize Victoria Odiase ~~~~~~

Hi Chandler. My name is Scott. I don’t believe we’ve been properly introduced. I was eleven years old the first time you won the Universal Title, and now you’re about to get another shot at it. I know you’ve won lots of championships, the Universal, we just talked about that, but also the Five Star, the Alias, the Tag Team, and probably other assorted championships, medals, ribbons, perhaps a plaque or two, maybe a nice parking spot for employee of the month, plus possibly discount tickets to the zoo or something. I dunno. To be honest, when you came back a couple of years ago, I was really happy to see that you were still alive. I was pretty sure you had died in a freak gasoline fight accident at the beginning of the first Zoolander movie. But then someone pointed out to me that you were not, in fact, Derek Zoolander’s friend. You just look an awful lot like him. But yes, there you were. You came back. Still as handsome as ever. I always thought you had the wide-ranging sex appeal of a young Bronson Pinchot. Everyone did the dance of joy when you showed back up, except maybe one particular Russian. I know he beat you in the Warchamber, but I saw you get your revenge in the Almasy, and boy, how sweet that must have been. I, for one, can’t stand that Russian either. He deserved every single ounce of the pain you inflicted upon him. So, right away, it’s possible that you and I could have been friends. On the other hand. I’ve been hearing some terrible rumors about how you might be looking right past me in this match. You have your title shot lined up, and I have mine, but I’ve heard you don’t think much of Scott Hunter. I don’t know if that is actually the case. For all I know, your cup may be running over with respect for me. I’m thinking not, however. It would make sense if you were looking past me, after all. It’s true, I don’t have your resume. You have more gold in your past than the Aztecs, and I have none. But I really have to wonder what the past has to do with our match? Does your past mean I don’t have a chance against you? Have you carried over some sort of aura from your past heroics that makes you invincible in the here and now? Maybe you picked up some sort of power-up that carries over from past matches to this one. That’s how some video games work. Is that how you work, also? Are you a video game, Chandler Tsonda? Or is that just Chandler Tsonda? I also heard that you got tired of playing Chandler Tsonda, so now you’re just Chandler Tsonda. But then again, Chandler Tsonda is still the name on the marquee next to mine. So even if you’re just Chandler Tsonda now and not Chandler Tsonda, you’re still Chandler Tsonda after all. It’s all very confusing. I’m not sure what to call you, really, so maybe I’ll come up with a name of my own, like Channy Boo. Does anyone call you Channy Boo? I think I might start. It is the spooky season after all. I know how much you want that Universal Title. People think I’m not very smart, but I do pay attention. I do know how to study, to read, and to listen. Maybe people will stop thinking I’m not very smart, maybe that day will come, but for now, I’m totally fine with people like you thinking you can just phone it in, look right past me, and coast to your next match. Hayes Hanlon did that. He was a former Universal Champion, too. Maybe you don’t plan on phoning it in. Maybe you just think I don’t have what it takes, hmm? Maybe you think I don’t belong in the same ring with Chandler Tsonda, or Chandler Tsonda, or Channy Boo, hmm? I heard a song once with the lyrics, “My Chandler Tsonda don’t want none unless you got buns, hun.” Maybe you think I don’t have buns. But I do have buns, Chandler Tsonda. I do have buns. Yes, we both have title shots coming up, but maybe you don’t think that my wanting to win my first title could possibly equate to you wanting to win your umpteenth. Go ahead and underestimate me, Chan Chan. It’s okay, I understand. Models tend to be self-absorbed, narcissistic, and full of themselves. Maybe no one has successfully burst your bubble before. I think that I’m fine with you staying in your bubble. Maybe John Travolta will play you in a TV Movie one day. Keep your eye on that prize. But every single match I have is a prize to me. Some of them might mean more than others, but all of them mean something. You have a luxury that I don’t have, and to be honest, if I had to choose, even with all of your accolades, I’d rather be me. You may not know who you are, Chandler Tsonda, or Chandler Tsonda, or Channy Boo, or whoever else you may be. I know exactly who I am, though. I have a bright future ahead of me because I work harder than everyone else, and there isn’t a man or woman on Earth who can stop me from outworking you. I hope you eventually get your big title win. And, I hope you finally find out who you really are. In the meantime, it’s time you learned who I am, Chandler Tsonda. I’m Scott.

~~~~~~

“No, she can’t be that warm, with the wind in her arms.” - Steve Winwood

~~~~~~

A million lights danced across the darkness, cracking with electric life. He felt the same sense of excitement as before, smelled the same intoxicating aroma of buttered popcorn, and the sweetness of cotton candy as he walked into the carnival. He also felt a surge of trepidation. It was here, over ten years ago, when he first met her. He could still see her hair draped down over her shoulder like a golden brown river, and he could feel his heart speeding up merely at the thought. It was her idea to meet again here, so many years later. Did she think it would be that easy after all this time? She was the one who disappeared, after all. They’d been here before. Scott was the one who showed up a year later, sitting in an empty booth near the same roller coaster where they’d first met, but she never showed. Now she was back, and Scott figured she wanted to make amends, but he didn’t know if he had any forgiveness to give her. It had hurt too badly. He walked through the crowds, past the Ferris wheel and around the tilt-a-whirl until the carnival opened up into a larger space, and there it was, the same roller coaster rising above the other rides, thousands of lights twinkling along the tracks. He stopped cold. At a bench near the entrance, his eyes saw the same auburn hair, the same eyes, although a bit older, looking up at the ride, watching the people go by, waiting for someone, waiting for him. Scott stood there, staring. After so many years, there she was. He’d considered this moment so often in his head, dreamed of it more times than he could count. But now that she was here, he couldn’t seem to figure out how to put one foot in front of the other. For a moment, the thought crossed his mind that he should just turn and walk away. It would be the easy thing to do. Did she deserve a second chance, after all? But Scott quickly shook that lingering notion out of his mind. Many people don’t deserve second chances, yet they still receive them, while others who don’t deserve them also get them. Maybe it wasn’t for him to say. Maybe she couldn’t show up that day. There had to be a reason, right? Only one way to find out. He muttered to himself… ‘one step at a time’... and found his legs working finally. Slowly, he walked in her direction, and she kept looking up at the ride, oblivious to his approach. Before long, he was standing right behind her. He closed his eyes briefly, then took a deep breath. “Hey, are you in line for this?” It was the first thing she ever said to him on the first night they met. She turned suddenly and looked up at him, her green eyes gleaming with excitement and happy recognition. She jumped to her feet, looking like she might embrace him, but she held back. That thought crept across his mind again. He could just turn and walk away. Maybe he was setting himself up to be hurt all over again. It was moments like these that Scott began to truly learn more about himself, when faced with the choice to walk away or push forward and give whatever life held a real chance. His sister had told him long ago that you can’t find love if you aren’t willing to risk pain. The pain had been nearly unbearably deep, but he just had to know. He couldn’t walk away. “Scott… It’s really you. You came.” Scott nodded. “I’m… glad you did.” Scott looked deeply into her eyes for what seemed like hours, but in reality, it was only a few moments. He pushed the surging emotions inside him down with all of the inner strength he could muster. “You need someone to ride with?” A slow, delighted smile slowly crept across her face. He smiled in return, and it felt real. He held his arm out, and she quickly took it. They turned and looked up at the lights together. Valerie involuntarily let out a happy chuckle as they headed off to ride. They had a lot to talk about, but Scott thought he might just let himself go and see what happens. For now, everything was good.