A Lesson In Schwah-ology

:::::An HIW Video Presentation:::::

[The high noon seas off of Oahu Island are like intransparent, sea green honey; surprisingly stiff, with the slightest crest of white foam now and then working through the tides. The shot does nothing to disturb the numbing calm of the scene – a wide angle view of ocean, an endless viewpoint of sea merging with sky, the slightest touch of clouds sitting just above the water line.]

[If we didn’t know any better, we’d think we were watching a re-broadcast of Doman Schwahling’s latest video opus, but we soon learn otherwise as the camera pans back slowly. Almost instantly, the serene setting of the ocean becomes merely a background, as up into our view climbs a tall high-rise building. As the sun beats down on the tarred rooftop, we zoom in on Devo Tremors, soaking quietly in half-inflated kiddy pool, he legs flopping lazily over the tiny pool’s edge. Like Schwahling, Devo reclines lazily in a half-sleep, half-sun stroke stupor. He too wears mirrored shades, although Devo’s more closely resemble those of an overzealous state trooper than John Lennon. His body glistens with an oily shine, and a tall glass of lemonade rests next to the pool, just within reach.]

Noga: What are you doing, young one?

[Ah, it’s Noga, Devo’s wise and elderly trainer. The cropped gentleman is himself dressed in a loud Hawaiian floral print shirt, baggy shorts and of course, the black socks and sandals. He carries a newspaper under his arm and a bottle of Jack Daniels in his hand.]

Devo: [without looking up] Like, hanging by the pool, man.

Noga: Man? [he throws the camera his best incredulous look] And why exactly did you choose to skip your training session?

Devo: No need.

[For the record, this is a much more casual and might I add, flippant Devo than we are used to. It’s not just your imagination.]

Noga: No need? Any why, pray tell, not?

Devo: I’ve got it all figured out, you know. All that training you make me do is pointless. From now on, I’m studying at the Doman Schwahling school of preparation. Sea. Sun. And relaxation.

Noga: I see. And you achieve this by sitting pathetically in a child’s rubber tub?

Devo: [stirring for the first time, he cranes his head around the tilts the shades off his eyes] Well, yeah. I mean, like not everybody can afford a $200 an hour boat rental. So I made do. [he returns to his previous lounging position]

Noga: Of course. And the ankle. How is that?

Devo: It’s fine. [he bolts upright] Hey, wait a minute. How’d you know about that?

Noga: The same way Doman Schwahling and everyone else on the Island’s knows about it.

[Noga takes the newspaper from under his arm and tosses it onto Devo’s lap. Devo folds it open and looks at the front page. The camera zooms in for a shot.]


[under the headline is a photo of Devo, clad only in his boxer shorts and sneakers, clinging pathetically to a chain link fence. The caption reads:]

Honolulu resident Devo Tremors seeks refuge from a dog attack yesterday in Aiea Heights.
Tremors, a professional wrestler, was rescued by local authorities.

[The camera pans back to Devo’s face, which is now dominated by his dropping jaw.]

Devo: Oops?

Noga: Oops? OOPS? I’ll give you an oops!

Devo: So it found it’s way into the press, like, what’s the big deal, you know?

Noga: The big deal is that you, my son, are a boob.

Devo: Thanks.

Noga: I gather by your surprise you have failed to do as I asked and catch up on the latest promotional segments by your counterparts?

Devo: Well… ummm… I was making the lemonade.

Noga: Perfect. Luckily for you, I had one of the women in the home write up some synopsis for you. You should THANK YOUR LUCKY STARS that you have someone like me on your side.

Devo: Oh, I do. Every day.

Noga: I’m sure you’ll find these enlightening.

[Noga hands Devo a stack of typed papers that had until recently been hiding within the folds of the newspaper. There are a few moments of silence as Devo sifts through the recaps. Noga begins to walk across the rooftop to the far side in order to gain a better view of the ocean. His sandals stick to the hot, melting tar.]

Devo: What does he mean by, “The NWC’s very own Steve Urkel?” I’m not black. I don’t wear glasses. Heck, I’ve never even OWNED a pair of suspenders.

Noga: [his back turned to us, from over his shoulder he speaks] I think he’s referring to the fact that you seem to make a habit out of being a square.

Devo: A square?

Noga: Geek, I believe is the term they use these days.

Devo: Oh. [he continues reading]

Noga: [turning back to Devo] Wait a minute. If you didn’t see Schwahling’s promo, how did you know he spent the day lounging on a boat?

Devo: Oh. Well, I uh… saw the first minute or so, then I turned it off. I had to go blow the pool up or I wouldn’t get enough time in the sun.

[Noga does not speak. He merely does his best to burn a hole through Devo’s chest with his eyes. Devo, meanwhile, continues reading.]

Devo: What’s with this “Strange Bedfellows Match” bit? If he thinks I’m climbing into the sack with him, you know, like he’s nuts. Meltdown’s the one who came out and…

Noga: Look, you fool. The match is called a Strange Bedfellows Match because it teams up four wrestlers who don’t like each other. It is a play on words… oh never mind.

Devo: Just as long as I don’t have to sleep with him. I don’t swing that way, you know.

Noga: Continue reading.

[Devo does so as Noga turns back towards his ocean view. Devo yawns.]

Noga: Got to Khalid’s bit, I see.


Noga: Fine, just keep reading.

Devo: Wait a minute. What’s this? “You will be devoured.” Is that… does that… is that what I think it is?

Noga: [turning, somewhat confused] I don’t think I follow you.

Devo: [growing excited]It is! It’s gotta be!

Noga: Gotta be what?

Devo: It’s a code. From Khalid to me. He’s been using it all along and I’ve been too stupid to notice it. Oh, man! This is great!

Noga: What the hell are you talking about?

Devo: Devoured. Deee… vooo… ured. Devo-ured. Get it?

Noga: Sadly, no.

Devo: He’s using MY name as part of his catch phrase. He’s trying to let me know that he’s on my side, that we’re on the same page. Oh, like, wow! I have nothing to worry about now.

[There is a dull *THWUP* as Noga strikes Devo upside the head with an open palm. Devo flinches and drops the papers into the kiddy pool.]

Devo: What was that for?

Noga: For being a bigger idiot than I at first thought. It’s not a code, you blithering… Look, you can’t trust Khalid any more than I can trust you to do what I ask. It’s merely a catch phrase, and a rather pitiful one at that. So don’t do something stupid and cost yourself this match. You can NOT afford another loss. Not so soon after the last one. Now pick up those papers. We’ve got work to do.

[Devo obediently fishes the papers out of the pool, and tries to dry them off by wringing the water out of them. They basically rip as he does so. When all is said and done, he is left with a damp ball of pulp. And we, fade out.]


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