Don’t Bite The Hand That Feeds

****Did you miss me? Yeah, yeah, I know, “what the hell was I thinking letting the lad run around without my supervision?” Hey look, it’s this simple. Those ballbusters over at HIW want him to start putting more time into his “video” shoots. Personally, I think you get more of a scoop thanks to me and my wonderful insight, but hell, they sign his paycheck, not me. So they win.

That don’t mean I can’t pop up every now and then and dazzle you with a nugget of “behind the scenes” Devo. And that’s what we’re here to do today. Now, my task is, well, where the hell do I take you? I could show you the boy training again, but it’s like, been there, done that, kissed and made up, end of story. So we gotta try something a little different.

Now what I’m about to show make seem a little, shall we say, pointless. But trust me, in the grand scheme of all things Devo, this is key. It’s all about trust, you see. Sunday night, this poor kid will team up with one of the most twisted characters in the whole of the NWC. Of course I’m talking about the Sword in the Stone himself, Khalid al-Kazim. Now anybody who saw that J-Crown Challenge match a couple weeks back knows that Devo and Khalid aren’t exactly the best of friends. Fact is, Khalid embarrassed our boy.

So teaming up ain’t gonna be easy. But give Devo credit. He’s a more than willing participant in this charade we call life. And the little bugger still clings to the theory that there’s good in people. So maybe, just maybe, he and Khalid can co-exist for one night. There’s always the prospect of kickin’ the ever loving life out of each a couple of weeks later for the HIW Cruiserweight Championship. Maybe that alone will be enough incentive to work as a team. But what do I know? I’m just an omnipotent voice. Shall we move on? I think we shall.*****

[A side street, somewhere in rural Hawaii. Do they have a rural area in Hawaii? Screw it. For the purpose of this story, they do. It’s a fairly typical residential neighborhood. Maybe a little more rundown than normal, but not too bad. A series of houses packed closely side by side along a quiet suburban side street. It’s late afternoon, say five-ish. There’s Devo. Jogging down the sidewalk, decked out in a pair of black sweat-shorts and a white tank top. A “wife beater” I think they call it. It’s what all the cool guys are wearing, so why should Devo be any different? Look at that guy. Would you just look at him? I SAID LOOK AT HIM DAMNIT! That’s better. Not a care in the world. Just doing his thing. Now sure, his mind’s probably racing a mile a minute thinking about Sunday night, but still, he looks calm. Sweaty, but calm.]

****Hey, listen up, junior. Just stick to the setting, would ya? I had to fire the last guy because he spent too much time dropping in his useless opinion, so don’t imagine I’ll think twice about canning your worthless ass. Capiche?****

[Whatever. A group of small Hawaiian children play a crude version of stickball in the street as Devo jogs in their direction. The kid stepping up to hit is a chunky little fella. One too many trips to the pineapple bush for this kid. But I betcha he knocks the crap out of it. *SPLUT* Sure enough, that one’s got the distance. The tennis ball meets the bamboo shaft “with authority” and sails high into the air. It’s headed for that fenced-in yard. No way! No way! TOO HIGH! TOO HIGH!]

*****Too high? Not too high. Too HARD.****

[At first it was really high.]

((((( Who gives a shit. It’s gone. )))))


((((( I’m the Producer of this little hallucinogenic nightmare you two like to call your existence. That joke needed three people, so don’t give me any shit. )))))

*****Yes, sir.*****

[Yes, sir. Where was I? Oh yeah! The tennis ball sails over the 8 foot high chain link fence and lands with a muted thud in a small mudhole. The kids, who had been cheering the mammoth blast, all drop their smiles in exchange for a depressed frown at the knowledge their ball is lost, most likely forever. FOOOR-EVVVV-ERRRR! For you see, slowly making his way out to the shipwrecked ball is none other than a feisty, slobbering pit bull. And he’s got his sights set on making that ball his new favorite chew toy. So cue the drool machine. Ahhh, there we go. A nice fresh coating. Yuck!]

[But wait! Who’s there to save the day? Why it’s Devo Tremors of course. Everybody’s hero! You go boy! You help them poor little underprivileged bastards of US Navy Pilots.]

Devo: [jogging up to the group of kids peering though the fence] Hey, guys. Like, why the long faces?

Urkel Reject: Buddah hit the ball over the fence and now that dog’s gonna eat it for lunch.

Richie Cunningham Dork: And it’s our only one.

Eddie Haskell Type: Way to go, fat boy!

Cartman Wanna-Be: Shut up! I’m not fat. I’m big boned.

Eddie Haskell Type: You chew on big bones.

Cartman Wanna-Be: Screw you guys, I’m going home.

****Get those damned South Park references outta here. What the hell kind of establishment do you think I’m running here?****

((((( You’re running? )))))

*****Sorry, oh great one.*****

((((( Better. )))))

[Suck up. Anyway…]

Devo: Well, guys, I betcha I could get your ball for ya.

Richie Cunningham Dork: Could you, mister?

Devo: Sure, I’ll just hop the fence and take it from him.

Eddie Haskell Type: Good luck. He’ll chew your arm off.

Devo: [chuckling] Well, I don’t know about that.

Urkel Reject: Actually, he’s not joking. That dog chewed off a guy’s arm last month. Look.

[Sure enough. The little snotnose points to the dog’s house out of which sticks what appears to be the remnants of a human arm, complete with wrist watch and official US Postal Carrier sleeve.]

Devo: Uhh… well, I still think I could get it for you.

Richie Cunningham Dork: That would be great. You’re the best!

Eddie Haskell Type: I betcha he tears your leg off.

[With that, Devo reaches up and begins to scale the chain link fence. He reaches the top and throws one leg over. The dog, sensing the intruder, drops the ball and ambles over to the middle of the yard, looking up at the fence.. It begins to growl. Devo takes a deep breath and swings his other leg over, catching his loose shorts on the wire links at the fence’s top. As he leaps down into the yard, there is a loud *RIIIIIIIIIIP*. He lands. The shorts – do not. Now standing in the middle of a dirty puddle in his boxer shorts, Devo is caught in a stare down with a pitbull. Interesting.]

Richie Cunningham Dork: Ooops. He he. Hey, mister. You forgot your pants.

Urkel Reject: Nice underwear.

Eddie Haskell Type: Are you gay?

[Devo ignores the little brats comments and focuses on the challenge ahead of him. The pit bull growls menacingly and bares it’s teeth. Devo hunches down and assumes a greco-roman position. He takes a few steps to the left. The dog counters. THEY GO FOR A LOCK-UP! Sorry, got carried away. They’re still just standing there.]

Richie Cunningham Dork: Uh oh. LOOK!”

[The young tike points off to the corner of the house where a pair of massive Doberman’s have made an appearance. Devo gasps. The pitbull yipes. The two Doberman’s move slowly in towards the main part of the yard.]

Eddie Haskell Type: Cool. He’s gonna die.

Devo: Shut up!

[So here we are. On one side, Devo and the pitbull. On the other, the two Doberman’s. All three dogs exchange a series of low grumbles while Devo wipes the back of his hand against his mouth.]

Devo: [looking to the pitbull] Okay, you n’ me, man. You n’ me.

[Uh, Devo…]

Richie Cunningham Dork: Hey, mister! I don’t think that’s a good idea.

Devo: Don’t worry, kid. I know what I’m doing.

Eddie Haskell Type: See, he’s knows he’s gonna die.

[What happens next isn’t pretty. The two Doberman’s make the first move and charge at Devo. They each sink their teeth into a corner of his shirt and begin to tear at it. Devo, in a panic, screams for the pitbull.]


[With that the pitbull joins the Dobermans by turning on Devo. It’s barks loudly and begins to chew on his ankle. Devo scream and leaps for the fence. He hangs there for a second with the Dobermans hanging on to his shirt for all they’re worth. He scurries up the chain links, leaving the shirt behind in shreds in the Doberman’s mouths. Now clad only in boxer shorts and sneakers, Devo hugs the top of the fence.]

Eddie Haskell Type: Oh, YOU SUCK! C’mon, guys, let’s go.

Richie Cunningham Dork: Gee.

Urkel Reject: Told you.

[The pack of punks slog off down the street, leaving Devo alone and half-naked, clinging to the top of a chain link fence. I think that should do it.]

*****Well, students, what have we learned here tonight? We’ve learned that no matter how bad the situation, things can always get worse. We’ve learned that pitbulls and Dobermans get along quite well, thank you. We’ve learned that the fat kid can really knock the crap out of the ball. We’ve learned that the locals here in Hawaii aren’t ass nice all those movies would have you believe. But most important, we’ve learned that Devo is WAAAAAY too trusting. So Devo, buddy, I hope YOU learned that. Come Sunday night, don’t trust that jackass, Khalid. Cause we all know how it’ll turn out if you do. That’s all for me, kids. Layza!****


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