The Miseducation of Devo Tremors

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**** An airport. But not Honolulu International airport where dozens of future HIW stars have already arrived. Oh no, not yet. We’re still back on the mainland. Logan International Airport in Boston, to be precise. A long way away from paradise, although we are getting warmer. Devo Tremors sits patiently at the gate for the arrival of the winged, steel beast that will deliver him to Phoenix, then on to the Islands.

It is a cool day in The Hub, but spring is coming. Still, Devo is a practical and cautious young man, so he’s made sure to bundle up – just in case. He’s sporting a heavy woolen letterman’s jacket from those halcyon days at the Academy. You know the kind – a deep navy blue with the white vinyl-ish sleeves and a big white interlocked “CA” over the heart. Ahh, nostalgia. Well, anyway, that’s what our young friend has chosen to wear on this, his first visit to the Pacific. The rest of his ensemble is nothing too interesting. Jeans, sneakers, maybe a couple pairs of socks, and a wool cap pulled down over his head. He’s nothing if not warm.

He carries with him a green duffel bag, emblazoned with the logo of a trendy shoe company. But really, what does that matter? We can only guess what’s inside. Lord knows, he can’t tell us. Because you see, he doesn’t know we’re here. Fact is, we’re not. There are no camera’s secretly trailing Devo in hopes of catching a quick sound bite for the story starved media covering the HIW’s inaugural card. We are merely an eye in the sky, so let’s keep what we see here between ourselves. Okay?

Looking at Devo, we have to admit; he’s not a bad looking fella. The goatee and sideburns are trimmed neatly and those long, flowing locks of blondeness he sports are braided stylishly in back. There is a look of serenity on his face, or is it more a look of vacancy? Hard to tell with Devo. Nonetheless, as he quietly awaits his destiny, let’s observe, as things for our hero (?) are about to get interesting. ****

P.A. System: Ladies and gentlemen, we will now commence boarding for flight 298 to Phoenix, with continuing service onto the Hawaiian Islands. All passengers holding first class reservations may now board.

**** Tell you what, let’s skip ahead just a little bit, shall we? I mean, we all know that Devo isn’t sitting in first class, and I’m pretty sure not much will happen till he gets seated. Fast forward to about a half-hour later. Devo has managed to find his seat (waaaaaay back in coach) and has “secured his carry-on in an overhead compartment”. The flight attendants have done the little dance of safety, and the plane is now on it’s way. Sitting next to Devo is a rather *portly* looking gentleman. Okay, so he’s fat. (Hey, I tried to be P.C. I just don’t have it in me). So let the conversation begin. ****

Man: So, tell me little fella, you going to Phoenix, or on to the Islands?

Devo: [eager to respond] On to Hawaii. I’m going there to wrestle.

Man: You don’t say? Hell, I used to do a little wrestling, way back in the day.

Devo: Really?

Man: Sure as shit. They called me Appalachian Dan. Used to wrestle up there in that WWWF before they turned it into a three ring circus all those years ago.

Devo: What do you mean, “up there”. Wasn’t the old WWWF centered right around here in Boston?

Dan: Why? Is that where the hell we are? I get so confused. [he winks and then taps his index finger on his mammoth skull] Musta taken one too many shots to the head.

Devo: So, were you any good? I mean, jeez, no offense, but I never heard of you.

Dan: Aw, don’t worry about it. I woulda been big if it hadn’t been for the little runt Vince McMahon, Jr. — THAT ROTTEN BASTARD!

[Heads all over the plane turn towards the duo after Appalachian Dan’s little outburst. Neither seem to notice.]

Dan: Sorry about that, kid. I get a little fired up when I think about him — GOD DAMNED GREEDY PRICK!

[More heads turn. Some murmuring. At the head of coach class a trio of stewardesses begin to debate who will be the one to confront this mountain of a man if he can’t keep his volume down.]

Devo: Wow! He must have really done something bad to you, you know, to make you hate him so much.

Dan: I’ll tell ya, kid, it ain’t so much what he did to me, as much as what he did to this great sport of…. [silence]

Devo: …wrestling?

Dan: Yeah, wrestling. [somewhat to himself] Damned piledrivers. [back to Devo] You see, this sport used to be about honor and competition. Now it’s all about tits and muscles and jumping around like some trapeze freak. Take you for instance. Now you look like a scrawny little kid to me, but I bet under that jacket, you probably got a tight little body. And I bet when you climb into the ring, you run around like a sheep on Valentine’s Day, leaping and prancing all over the place. You see, I’m all for athaletic– athleeti– althea– aw hell, you know what I mean. But these boys today got no respect for the sport. I hate that. And it’s all because of that NO GOOD STEROID-POPPING WEASEL!

[With that, the “losing” stewardess makes her way over to the mighty Dan. She props up her best insincere smile and attempts to make a difference.]

Stewardess: Excuse me, sir. But I’m going to have to ask you to try and control your language and volume. It’s disturbing some of the other passengers.

Dan: Sorry there, little Missy. I’ll try and get a handle on it.

[The stewardess turns and heads back up the aisle. Big Dan seizes the opportunity to check out her ample behind.]

Dan: Hoo wee, son, check out the gams on that one. I’d like to butter them up and eat ’em with a side of gravy. [he licks his lips and continues to stare after the flight attendant, long after she’s out of sight]

Devo: Excuse me, Dan?

Dan: Oh, sorry there, boy. What the hell was I saying?

Devo: I’m not really sure.

Dan: Well, that’s make two of us. HAHAHA!

[Devo doesn’t laugh at first, because he just doesn’t get it. I’m not sure I do. But after a few seconds he chimes in, because Devo’s all about fitting in.]

Dan: Well, anyway. You want some advice there, little man?

Devo: [who is suddenly excited about the prospect of receiving advice from a real big-time wrestler, even one as small-time as Appalachian Dan; his ears perk up and kinda pants like a puppy] Sure. That would be def, yo.

Dan: Def? What’s that? YOU NEED ME TO SPEAK UP?

[The attendant wears a look of “here we go again”.]

Devo: No. It’s just an expression. Kind of like phat, you know, phat with a “ph”.

Dan: Well, I sure as hell don’t know what the hell you’re talking about, but damn, you’re an alright fella.

Devo: [genuinely appreciative] Thanks. So…

[There is a pretty long pause as Appalachian Dan stares off into space and Devo looks up at him helplessly. Something, we’re not really sure what, snaps Dan back to life.]

Dan: Ho, hey… what?

Devo: You were gonna give me some advice.

Dan: I was? About what?

Devo: Wrestling.

Dan: I was? I was. Okay. Here it is. You wanna go far is this business, son, you gotta go yourself a mentor.

Devo: A mentor?

Dan: That’s right. A mentor. You get yourself one of those, and you can’t go wrong.

Devo: [absorbing the idea] Hmmmm. A mentor.

Dan: Now, if you’ll excuse me, son, I got head back to that little john back there so me and Robin Hood can rob from the rich and give to the poor. Get it? Little John? Robin Hood? Hehehe! MAN, I’M ONE FUNNY SUMBITCH.

**** Dan continues back to the toilet where he tries to squeeze his oversized frame into the undersized closet. Thank God the cameras aren’t here, because I don’t think it’d be fit to air. Anyway, as for our boy, Devo, well, he’s still a bit overwhelmed by all this talk about a “mentor”. I’m sure it’ll keep his little weedwhacker of a brain humming for the rest of the trip. Good thing too. He needs a distraction.

That should just about do it for us. I got a feeling that Devo will be back with a regular old promo sometime after he touches down. I hear they got a cameraman waiting on his arrival. So in the meantime, I hope you enjoyed this little look into the man. Cause I’m sure you’ll be seeing plenty of him in the coming weeks. Later. ****

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