Bonding? I Prefer Bondage!

Heartbreak.

Literal heartbreak.

Lying face down on the wet grass, the blades tickling my nose as I struggle to breathe. The 10 count has long passed, Fred Dick has staggered his way to the locker room, the camera crew has dispersed, everyone has gone, leaving me lying there by my lonesome, wallowing in defeat.

The streak has ended.

My heart has broken.

You know the old saying, once you fall off the cow, you need to get back up and make some steaks? I’m not sure how the saying goes, to be honest with you, but the gist of it was not to let defeat define you and to keep trying.

Yeah… I’ve made a career of letting defeat define me, so you’ll have to excuse me as I wallow in self pity for the moment. After enjoying the overwhelming adulation of victory these past couple of months I’m not too keen to simply return to the slums of defeat so fast.

Alas all things, good and bad, must come to an end. So without fanfare, I begin the arduous process of climbing to my aching feet. My back refuses to straighten out as I stand there slightly cocked like the hump of a question mark. My shoulders remain slumped as my arms dangle in midair beneath me like a pair of wet al dente noodles.

Great, now I’m hungry.

The slow trek back to the eGG Carton begins as my feet shuffle one step after another. My head is glued to my chest as I see the passing feet of the people around me, never bothering to look up. By the time Flaberge’s music begins to echo throughout the back halls of the arena I manage to push my way into the eGG Carton.

“BOBBO!” the boisterous voice of Cancer Jiles greets, as he rushes over and claps me joyously on the shoulder, causing me to wince in agony. “The triumphant hero emerges unscathed, ready to continue on his vanquishing ways!”

I knew it! He’s back on the horse. I knew he shouldn’t be hanging around Daytona Diamonds!

“Why so glum chum?” the mirror shaded bespectacled face asks as he bends down to peer at me, with concerned eyebrows. “I figured you’d be trotting in here like the prized stallion you are!”

My voice wavers and cracks as I piteously spit out, “I lost, Cancer. The streak is over…”

The tears drip from my eyes as the quiet room overwhelms me, but then the quiet is interrupted by an uproarious laugh. The laugh, so out of place, causes me to stand up straight and look at my closest friend with concern.

He’s lost it.

He’s finally lost his ever loving mind!

“You fool!” Cancer says between sobbing laughter, wiping the tears from under his prized shades. “You beautiful, beautiful fool.” Sliding alongside me, draping his arm over my shoulder Cancer proceeds to blow my mind, “You didn’t lose Bobby. Sure you didn’t win either, but the important thing is you didn’t lose. Soooo…”

“Sooooo…” I sing along with him, waiting for him to finish.

“So your streak remains intact,” the smile slowly spreads, the sparkle slowly returns, my back begins to straighten, my shoulders begin to rise, as my spirits begin to soar. “Bobby Dean, still undefeated in the year 2024, who would have thought?”

Laughing as if he’s heard the best punchline ever, Cancer Jiles separates from my side shaking his head in mock dismay as he chuckles to himself at my ignorance. As the world rights itself in my mind I hear the chime of my phone indicating the arrival of a text message.

Fishing the gadget from my equipment bag I plop down into the chair before my locker and swipe my phone open, pleasantly shocked as I see a text message from the love of my life, Malibu. She’s lounging on her couch in a tasteful negligee, covering all the good bits and pieces while still being overly tempting.

My mouth begins to water as if I’m standing in front of a newly opened KFC, I don’t even notice that she texted me once more, with words this time. It takes my sludge brain a second to catch up, as well as my heart.

“I know you didn’t win tonight, but I think you deserve a reward for your valiant effort. Hurry back, I think it’s time for our third date. -M”

Without a word I quickly lean forward and begin cramming all of my stuff into my equipment bag. With my civilian clothes shoved haphazardly in my bag I scramble to my feet, causing Cancer to look at me with a question behind his mirror shaded eyes.

“Uhm, I gotta go!” I stammer, not sure how to explain. “Family sex emergency…”

The nonplused face looks back at me as if he’s heard me say that a million times before, shrugging his shoulders. Cancer turns his attention back to the monitor as I hurriedly rush toward the door.

I made it a good sixty minutes down the road before the realization hit me.

“Annabelle!”

—--------------------

Slinking back to the now deserted arena I can admit that was the first time I’d ever forgotten my child. Granted she spent the majority of her childhood in the care of her mother, so in my defense it’s not as surprising as it should be. If I had custody of her when she was younger I definitely would have forgotten her countless times!

Like you’d never forgotten a child…

The arena might have been bereft of fans, but the army of countless nameless backstage ants scurrying around trying to get everything broken down and loaded up fill the halls. After being pointed in the right direction on more than one occasion I make my curious way out to the arena floor where the expected empty ring is not so empty.

Cancer Jiles is seated perched on the top turnbuckle, his feet braced on the middle ropes as he drapes his elbows over his knees, watching as Annabelle locks up with Lindsay Troy in a classic collar and elbow. “Whip corner, flip, German.” Cancer calls out the sequence in a voice that seems to say this isn’t the first time they’ve done it.

Lindsay Troy sends my daughter careening into the corner, opposite of the Coolympian, but before she collides with the padded turnbuckle, she simply runs up the corner with nimble feet, pausing a split second to compose herself at the top before she then executes a perfect backflip. Looking down to spot her landing the entire time, her eyes nonetheless grow wide, as she notices LT isn’t where she’s supposed to be.

Instead Lindsay Troy steps off center and simply waits for the young lady to land, and right as her feet touch down Troy winds up and delivers a cracking knife edge chop to her chest.

“OW!” Annabelle cries out, immediately clutching at her offending spot, probably thanking her lucky stars she was wearing a tee shirt. “Sonofabitch!”

“HEY!” I yell out storming down toward the ring, rage growing on my face as the crack reverberates in my ears. “What the hell was that?”

The eGG Queen simply smirks that smirk of hers and says, “Got to teach the kid to expect the unexpected.”

I walk over to my daughter as she clutches at her chest, rubbing the pain away as she winces every time she touches a particular spot. I want to hug her and take the pain away but in that moment I begin to realize she’s not a child.

Wait. When did she grow up?

Instead I turn and face the other two, watching as Cancer casually hops off her perch and approaches us in the center of the ring, with an arrogant smirk of his own plastered on his smug face.

I’ve got a million questions I want to ask, but the only thing that comes out of my mouth is, “Why?”

Cancer looks at Belle, as if he were asking her if it’s okay for him to answer, to which she offers a small nod. “What’d you expect? She’s been running around here the past year or so working with the social media department. She’s surrounded by the business, you can’t really blame her for getting curious. So she asks Dooze and I to teach her a few things.”

At that moment I realized Doozer was standing there with us as well, causing me to do a double take. When did he show up?

Lindsay chimes in, picking up where the COOL leaves off, “You can’t really expect me to just sit back and watch these two buffoons, can you? These two have been teaching her theory, it was time she started to learn with a more hands on approach.”

“Wait, how long has this been going on?” I can’t help but ask, confused and ashamed that I had been so out of it that I hadn’t noticed.

“Since COOLosus,” Cancer admits, after taking a moment to think back. “Gotta admit she’s got some talent. Are we sure you’re her dad?”

—-------------------------

The car ride from Boston to Philly was quiet. Both Annabelle and I were deep in our own thoughts. Me, wondering when my kiddo turned into a young adult. Her, probably wondering about sex.

Isn’t that what all seventeen year old girls think of? I know, that’s the one thing that my seventeen year old self was thinking of. Heck, an hour ago that’s the sole thing my forty year old self was thinking of…

Regardless, we hadn’t said a single word for the last five hours. It wasn’t until we arrived at our hotel in Philly about to get out that I stopped her with a gentle hand on her forearm. She looks at me, half awake, half afraid of what I was going to say.

“If this is something you really want to pursue,” I begin, thinking over the words carefully. Which is a first for me. “I fully support you. I will help you in whatever way I can. I love you kiddo.”

She smiles, as her face lights up with genuine relief. “Thanks dad, I love you too!”

—--------------------

As my Uber arrives at the dock, the sound of a long forgotten song is heard playing in the car, muffled within the confines of the steel box on wheels. The clearly annoyed driver can’t climb out quick enough and his door opens and the lyrics to “I Just Had Sex” by the Lonely Island and Akon is finally heard by everyone in a three block radius.

“On repeat!” the driver mutters to no one in particular as he stomps his way to the trunk, roughly reaching in and ripping out suitcase after suitcase. “Over and over and over, never ending!”

I’m oblivious to his complaints as I climb out of the car with the biggest smile on my cherubic face. Humming to the song that has been playing on repeat a total of 35 times in the last hour and forty five minutes. While the luggage is being off loaded a smiling Coral Avalon arrives, clipboard in hand.

Without missing a beat Avalon informs me, “That’s the wrong song. It’s “I’m on a Boat” by the Lonely Island.

Clapping me on the shoulder with a jovial smile, he walks off checking another box off his clipboard, leaving Annabelle and I to stand there basking in awe at the sheer size of the Octane.

I’ve been aboard this ship countless times, yet every time I stand before it it still takes my breath away. I’m curious if Lee even acknowledges our ownership of his once prized ship, or if he’s simply retconned its existence like he does everything else he no longer controls?

Oh well, food for thought.

Speaking of food, my stomach begins to rumble and I begin to wonder, and hope, that Coral stocked up for our voyage to Cardiff.

—-------------------------

The opening of a fridge is like a heavenly event for me. When the doors open and that golden light shines out, I hear a gospel choir singing Hallelujah. Because at that moment, standing before the golden doors, looking at the myriad of food staring back at me I can’t help but wonder, “What should I eat next?”

There front and center is a familiar red and white bucket, with a yellow post-it note stuck to it, simply reading: “Bobby”

Snatching the bucket from the fridge I rip the flimsy top off and immediately palm out a leg of deep fried chicken from Kentucky. Ripping into with my teeth like an animal I gorge myself on the food from the gods.

“Hmmm?” I question as I place the bucket down and reach up with my now free hand and pluck a dark hair from in between my teeth. Pulling the hair out I toss it away without much thought before going back to the task at hand, devouring juicy cold chicken legs.

By the fourth hair extraction I stop and take a moment to look at the offending follicle. Noticing the blackness, the curl, the density, of the hair, I begin to wonder if someone didn’t rub their junk on my chicken!

Someone American Pie’d my bucket of KFC!

—-----------------------

The giant darkly bearded monstrosity before me scowls, his eyes boring into mine from beneath his dark bushy eyebrows, his anger palpable. Then, without notice he leaps to his feet gripping the edge of the bolted down table that sits between us. With a mighty roar Hessian rips the table free and sends it toppling aside, the Sorry board goes flying, our little pieces scattering across the room as the cascading cards fall to the ground.

Without a word the big man stomps off, leaving me to sit and stare in fear at his retreating back. I can’t help myself, I think it’s an unconscious reaction to fear, but I blurt out, “I said I was sorry!”

I really might have to rethink this whole bonding idea of mine.

—-----------------------

“I swear, this is the first time!” I exclaim to an irritated Cancer Jiles who looks down at the cards in his hands in disbelief.

“Shut up and just play,” Cancer uncharacteristically snaps back at me, refusing to acknowledge the wooden block between us, ignoring the fact that my peg is so far ahead of his. I didn’t even know what the pegs meant in this silly game. The whole time we played I wondered if this was like the game of Life and was my little peg going to get married and have little peglets of his own?

Minutes later Jiles jumps to his feet and with a mighty swipe of his arm he sends the Cribbage board flying across the room to clatter to the floor. Scowling at me I can only sit back and try not to smile.

“Beginner’s luck, I swear!” I defend myself, trying to defuse the situation before the anger overwhelms him and I find myself tossed overboard. With a deep controlling breath, the King of COOL turns and walks away, muttering under his breath.

“A 29 hand… How… The odds of that are 1 in 216,580…”

—-------------

“G-6,” I call out in triumph, knowing what was next to come.

“Dammit, you sunk my battleship!” Coral Avalon admonishes in mix of anger and disbelief, he looks up at me over the top of his game board, probably wondering how it is I’ve managed to win the last eight games to his two. “How!?”

“Luck.” I answer, arrogantly buffing the tips of my nails on the chest of my shirt. “Pure luck.”

“Why haven’t you used that to win more of your matches?” Coral asks with a very passive aggressive tone, refusing to reset his pieces. “You know, use it when it actually counts?”

Ouch.

Without a flinging of the board that I’ve now grown accustomed to, Coral simply stands up and calmly walks out of the room, stepping around the discarded steel table that still resides upside down from earlier.

—-----------------------

“Nooooo! How?” Don Winters demands as he watches me slide my piece up the ladder and onto the final square on the board. “No one is that good at Chutes and Ladders, no one!”

Before I know it my new friend is stomping away, ignoring me as I offer insightfully, “It’s actually quite interesting, they did a study on how Chutes and Ladders is actually quite mathematical.”

He apparently does not share my interest as he turns the corner and out of view, leaving my daughter and I alone in the game room. She looks at me with a smirk on her face before saying, “How’s the bonding going for you, Pop?”

“I think it’s going really well,” I admit happily, “although they’ve all refused to play any more games with me and I don’t think Hessian is speaking to me, but I’ve never heard the guy speak to begin with, so I’m not sure if that’s a new thing or not.”

My daughter shakes her head laughing as I go about the arduous task of boxing up the game once more.

—------------------------

“Jack-high flush, bitch.” Daytona Diamonds crows triumphantly as he lays his five cards on the table face up. “I’ve finally beat you!”

Frowning I look around the empty room and then back to the cards, and without much fanfare I lay down a single card and announce, “Uno,” revealing the last remaining card in my hand.

“What?” Daytona questions completely dismayed and confused. “I thought we were playing poker.”

“With Uno cards?” I ask, pointing down to one of the black cards in his straight flush, “That’s a Wild…”

“Yeah, how else was I to get a face card without a Wild?” he questions before following up with, “I told you, Daytona only plays Poker, Settlers of Catan or high stakes Canasta!”

“You didn’t even question why I kept putting cards on the table?” I ask, wondering if I was losing my mind.

“Listen, I was focused on winning, I wasn’t paying attention to what you were doing,” Daytona admits, “Now how about that money you owe me?”

“We were playing Uno!?!?” I shout back enraged.

“And I won!” Daytona retorts as if it was that simple, “Now where’s my damn money!?”

—------------------------

“Nooooope!” Tony Gamble shouts at my mere approach, holding his hands up, waving me away. “No fucking way! I’m not playing with you, don’t you even dare ask!”

I had a board of Twister tucked under my arm along with the most eager of expressions on my face. At his refusal, my face begins to shift. “But, but, but…” I stammer as he quickly climbs to his feet and hurrying out of the room.

“I’m counting that as a win by forfeit.” I announce to the now empty room. “I wonder if LT will count these toward my official record?”

—--------------------------

As we sail along these choppy waters I can’t help but pontificate upon the upcoming bout. Most people know that I’ve got a weakness when it comes to multiple men. As dirty as that sounds it’s true, I get overwhelmed by quantity and get lost in what I should focus on. I’m like a child with ADHD stuck in a room with twenty toys, my brain is telling me to play with all of them at the same time despite the futility of that decision. Never understanding that I could focus on each individual toy in turn. Then the panic sets in because like I said, it’s impossible to play with 20 men at once, I could barely handle two at a time with Doozer’s help!

Coral had a word of the day calendar and I’ve been storing up these words for days on end. I figure what better time to use them than right now. I just hope I’m using them correctly, I mean, I don’t even know what pontificate and futility even mean!

So as I sit here in the darkened pantry, I begin to wonder, what can I do to stack the odds in my favor? I almost wish I hadn’t thrown such a hissy fit to be included in this match. Maybe it’s not too late for me to excuse myself?

I mean, you can’t lose the match if you never get in the ring, right?

Wait.

That’s it!

My thoughts are interrupted as the door to the pantry swings open and Hessian shrieks in surprise at my sudden appearance. I cry out, “Noooo, you found me!”

“What?” the big man asks, taking deep breaths to calm his fried nerves.

“We’re all playing Hide and Sneak and I thought for sure I was going to win, considering no one had found me in the last three hours!” I explain while climbing to my feet while my body protests from being cramped in the confined space for so long.

“Well, congrats big man, now it’s your turn to hide and I’ll come find you!”

This was going to be a LONG ride to Cardiff!