A dense fog covers the lonely back
road. A young man descends from the darkness and enters the dimly lit Irish pub
before him. He orders a drink – a double bloody strumpet with a twist of lime –
almost mechanically.
She
approaches him slowly; seductively. Her curly, white-blond hair bouncing with
every step. She discretely removes the man sitting next to her target,
dispatching him with a well placed blow to the head with a catfish. She sits
down.
“I
see you like Nintendo,” she mutters flirtatiously, pointing at the man’s Super Mario Bros. T-shirt.
“Yeah,
I’ve had this shirt since I was nine,” he replies, smiling.
“I
figured as much; it’s about 17 sizes too small. But I still like it. Seeing
your nipples peering out and your bellybutton is a major turn on,” the she replies.
“What do you say we go back to my place and play some Bubble Bobble?"
She winks at him
seductively.
“Okay,
babe,” the manly man returns. “As long as we don’t stay up past my bed time.
Mommy gets angry and spanks me when I do that.”
“Whatever
you want, Super Mario,” she replies sexually. “May I call you that?”
“Why
would you call me ‘That?’ My name is…”
“Never
mind. Just know that I’m going to call you Super Mario from now on,” says the
woman.
They
begin to stand up, and she adds, “You know, you really should stop smoking,”
waving the carbon monoxide away from her face.
“I
don’t,” Super Mario admits. “It’s the bartender. He’s on fire.”
“Oh,
right,” the vixen replies. They leave quietly.
A
few moments later, they find themselves in a dark, dripping alley. Super Mario
is confused.
“I thought you
said we were going to play some Bubble
Bobble…!”
“Oh,
we certainly are,” she laughs, moving away from him.
I
step out from behind a strategically placed garbage can that’s somehow large
enough to conceal me. I am tapping my fist in my hand. “You owe us money,
Bubba. A lot of it. Where’s my money?”
“What…?!”
Super Mario/Bubba exclaims. I can smell the fear he radiates as he realizes who
is standing in front of him. “No! It’s you!
I… Uh, well… Gimmie a few more days, won’t you? I swear I’ll…”
“I’m
tired of waiting, Bubba,” I say. “I’d like you to meet some of my friends.”
A large man with
long blonde hair reveals himself. He is wearing a cheaply made cardboard dragon
suit, spray-painted blue. Another man emerges from the inside of the garbage
can I was hiding behind; this one with a dark beard and an identical cardboard
suit, only green.
“This
is Bub,” I say, pointing to the bearded man in green. “And this is Bob,” I
continue, pointing at the man in blue.
“No
they’re not; That’s Randy Savage and Hulk Hogan!” Bubba exclaims, fear building
in his voice.
“Where’s
my money, Bubba?” I ask again, my voice calm and unfaltering.
 |
| Art thou bored? |
“I…
I don’t have it!” Bubba yells frantically, looking for a way out. But there is
none. We stand, staring at each other, in a dead end.
“Well
then, Bubba, now it is the beginning of a fantastic story! Let us make a
journey to the cave of monsters. Good luck, fatass!”
I let out a small
chuckle.
The
makeshift dragons close in on Bubba, cracking their knuckles, as a hick band
materializes out of nowhere. “Come on, Bubba, let’s play some Bubble Bobble! Yee - haw!” bellows the
lead hick.
The
cheery Bubble Bobble theme fills the
dense air as the double dragons pound a flailing Bubba. The girl and I walk
away as Bubba screams something about being an organ donor.
As
we travel the calm streets, the girl and I, I look at her and smile. I tell her
that she means a lot to me.
“You’re the
refrain of my life, kid. I just keep coming back to you.”
She
looks at me with her soft blue eyes, smiles, and says, “That’s because I’m the
only person left who will tie your shoes for you anymore.”
“Right,”
I reply, as we continue through the fog.
