(Post) ReVival 41
It’s odd how satisfying the sound of breaking glass can be. I mean, maybe it’s just me, but when the ceramic plate collided with the wall and shattered upon impact my pacing feet couldn’t help but to pause mid stride to relish in the crash.
But, my pause is fleeting as my pacing resumes and my ranting continues.
“Am I, or am I not a Bandit?” I bellow out in rage. “Do people forget that not only am I a Bandit, I am one of the founding fathers of the Bandits!” Heavy sarcasm escapes my voice as I sneer my compatriots name, “COOOOOOOL Cancer Jiles wasn’t the only person to come up with the Bandits, hell he wanted to call us the eGG Dreamers, because we were in DREAM at the time of inception.”
Which layer is this?
“Dooooooozer wasn’t the only person to come up with the idea of throwing eggs at people. Hell, it was my idea! He only suggested that we stop throwing rotten eggs, and that was only because he couldn’t stomach the smell waiting for them to become rotten in the first place!”
I reach down, pick up yet another plate, frisbie it across the room, and once again it shatters upon impact.
“Yet here I stand, the ONLY Bandit not selected on a team FOR Bandits!” I continue to rant wildly. “Not only was I not selected, but Coral – FOREHEAD – Avalon picks people who aren’t even Bandits! People who would be lucky to even be considered for the position of temporary Bandit! But I, “Beautiful” Bobby fucking Dean am not good enough?”
“Perhaps you weren’t in the pool,” my terrified daughter questions rationally from the couch of our shared living quarters; causing me to turn my attention to her. She quickly regrets getting involved in this one sided conversation as she tucks her legs even closer to her chest in an attempt to curl in on herself.
“How would they know I don’t know how to swim?” I ask, honestly perplexed. “I could have worn a life jacket and floated if need be. Regardless, not only am I A BANDIT, I’m the Eggescuting Captain for Puff’s sake!”
The Magic Dragon.
At the rate I’m going, I’ll run out of dishes sooner than I’d like. I should really pace myself here, seeing as I’ve got a lot more ranting to do.
“I am currently undefeated!” I decisively announce, completely ignoring the nine losses and one draw, as if those matches were attached to a different, less worthy Bobby Dean. “Can Cancer Jiles say that? Tiny Gimble? No! I am the Captain of this boat, I should have been the first pick Coral Avalon made. Better yet, he should have resigned his post to me!”
Annabelle jumps from the couch and flees into her room with scared tears running down her cheeks. My parental instincts start to kick in, and I begin to feel like maybe I’ve taken things a little too far. HOWever, the overwhelming rage still boiling inside my massive belly proves to be too great. All I see is red, 97 shades of it, and suddenly my cell phone is out and in my hand. My fingers furiously tapping and scrolling until coming to rest upon a familiar name.
A name I haven’t messaged in quite some time.
A name I can trust.
Mike. It’s Bobby. Got an idea that
might interest you
Two more words
“If I’m not good enough to be on a team, let alone Team 2.0, why don’t I just start my own and show them all just HOW good I really am?”
The Hot Spot
*Knock* *knock* *knock*
After a minute or two a muffled voice calls out from the other side of the door, “Password?” Shit, I didn’t know there was a password. I didn’t know this was that kind of meeting. I wasn’t exactly sure there even was a meeting, I just knew the guys were acting weird the last day or two and I wanted to be a part of the weirdness so I followed Coral Avalon to this remote location where I saw what appeared to be every member of Team Avalon arrive.
Well, if they’re having a team meeting I should be there to officiate, maybe I can get them hors d’oeuvres and refreshments? I can put on my little maid outfit and fetch them things while they plot and scheme. I mean, I should be a part of this thing even if I’m not officially a part of this thing.
“Uhm, over easy?” I answer with a question, thusly surprised as the door opens and the smiling face of Coral Avalon greets me.
“Hessian!” Coral cheerfully exclaims, expecting to see the giant standing before him. “Bobby?” His face drops, his smile falters, the joy and excitement leave his eyes, only to be replaced by confusion. “What are you doing here? How did you know where we were? Did Cancer invite you? Did Tony?”
I attempt to enter the building as if I belonged, but my large foreheaded friend simply stands in the doorway, preventing me from entering. I smile like it’s any other day, before the War Games announcement, and act like nothing is bothering me.
“Coral!” I greet, slapping him awkwardly on the shoulder while standing in front of him. “I heard you guys were having a pow wow for the first time and figured I should come by and see if I can do anything to help? Maybe offer some advice, or words of encouragement? Maybe even be a tie breaking vote if need be?”
“Uhm, Bobby, I appreciate your enthusiasm but this is kind of a members only thing at the moment,” my friend informs me, with clear sadness in his voice. As if it hurts him to hurt me, he continues gently, “Maybe you can come by for the next meeting? Right now we’re just doing the get to know you thing, to see if we can even get along to make this thing work. You know?”
I knew I wasn’t a part of the team.
I knew I wasn’t wanted.
I knew it was time for me to leave…
So I did just that. Turning around and walking back towards my car as Coral Avalon kept offering me his repeated apologies. He sounded sincere, but then again, what do we really know about Coral fucking Avalon?
Have you ever found yourself lying on the floor of your bedroom in absolute darkness? Windows covered in blackout curtains, the only illumination coming from your phone’s Spotify playing “One” by Three Dog Night on repeat, while cry singing from the deepest and darkest parts of your shattered soul?
“One is the loneliest number that you’ll ever doooooo.”
I flip the television off after Lindsay Troy just announced my inclusion in the War Games event, my eyes downcast, my shoulders slumped, completely dejected.
“What’s wrong dad?” Annabelle asks with a quirked eyebrow, “I figured you’d be ecstatic right about now, now that you’re on the team.”
“Why?” I ask in return, with a tone of hurt in my voice. “I wasn’t even good enough to be the last kid picked. No, I’m the pity pick. I’m the afterthought. They didn’t need to add people to teams, they just got tired of my whining, and moping, and figured why not throw the fat kid a bone. They probably realized they wouldn’t have anything else for me to do for the next couple of months leading up to War Games, and they’re afraid I’ll disappear again. Hell, they probably think I’ll be the one to get my team eliminated anyway, since everyone knows multi-team matches are my kryptonite.”
“You and Uncle Doozey didn’t do tooooo terribly in that Tag Team Survivor thing,” she offered helpfully, trying to reassure me.
My response is interrupted as the door to our locker room bursts open and a smiling Cancer Jiles strolls in with even more swagger than normal. “You hear the good news?” he asks, rhetorically apparently, because he doesn’t bother waiting for our response. “I told you, the eGG Queen will always come through, long may she reign.”
“What’d you do Uncle CJ?” Annabelle asks as Cancer walks over and claps me on the shoulder, but before he can answer Coral Avalon and little Tony Gamble come into the room. Avalon with a smile big enough to rival his forehead.
“I told you kiddo,” Cancer explains as he pulls up a chair and plops down into, kicking his legs up arrogantly, to rest on my knees. “It’s not what you know, it’s who you know. Pull a few strings, say the right words to just the right people, and suddenly BOOM good things come your way. And if all else fails just remember the golden rule, once a Bandit, always a Bandit.”
“I thought the golden rule was, “Better to ask forgiveness than to ask permission?” Annabelle asks in return, smiling as this was one of her favorite games, The Golden Rule presented by Uncle Cancer.
“Why does he look like someone peed in his Cheerios?” Tony asks the room, pointing at my glum face. “You’d think he’d be celebrating right about now, especially after all of his attitude the past few days.”
I look up as a slow sneer begins to morph onto my usually cherubic face. “Celebrate? Celebrate? What is there to celebrate?” I roughly shove Jiles’ feet off my lap before jumping to my own feet, causing my chair to topple over with a loud commotion. Eyes incensed once more by sudden rage, my daughter immediately cringes, knowing the tantrum that’s soon to follow. “I’m the little brother being forced onto his big brothers. They neither want him, nor asked for him to join, they simply allow it because their mother made it happen.”
“This is the fucking thanks I get?” the incredulous voice of Cancer Jiles interrupts my tirade before it could even get underway, as he looks at me with clear disappointment on his face that slowly begins to shift to an anger of his own. “You know the number of strings I needed to rip out to pull this off? You think it was easy? I do all this to include you in the games we’re about to play, and you’re going to stand there and cry like a big fat baby?”
Cancer reaches down and uprights my discarded chair and once again kicks back with his feet crossed at the ankle, propped on the seat of the chair. Disdain now displayed on his face, as confusion mirrors mine.
“Should Coral whip out his teat and feed the hungry baby now? Or do you want Tony over there to change your stinky diaper? Maybe Belle here should see if she can find your pacifier for you? We’re going to War you ungrateful fuck… founding father my ass.” the words sting, as everyone in the room watches Jiles unload both barrels right into my astonished face.
“Instead of crying over the hows of how you got onto the team, perhaps you should start thinking about how are we going to win, as a team?” Jiles ponders, leaning further back into the chair as he now crosses his arms behind the back of his head. The picture of pure nonchalance. “Because, in the end, it’s not going to be up to one person, it’s going to be up to the best team! And I’ll be fucked if we’re not the ones winning, Bobbo. I’ll be double-fucked if we lose because you got your baby blues twisted up that massive meaty crack of yours!”
My head dips in shame.
This entire time I was so wrapped up in my own thoughts of inadequacy and rejection that I forgot, the world didn’t revolve around me. My friends needed me to support them, and all I could do was ask “What about me?”
“I’m sorry.” I offer, shuffling my foot shyly, not meeting anyone’s eyes. “I’m really sorry for ruining your big thing Coral. I don’t know what happened, I guess, I just lost my mind for a minute.”
“It’s okay buddy, we all get a little crazy sometimes. At least you didn’t go on Discord and talk massive amounts of shit that can be screen shot and passed around for years to come.” Coral, the ever loving Avalon greets with a friendly pat on the shoulder. “Welcome to the team, Captain. You ready to eggsecute?”
“I was born ready,” I respond with a sheepish grin, while also wondering HOW quickly I could delete a bunch of messages on Discord before it was too late? “Put me in Coach.”
Cancer Jiles noisily climbs to his feet, smiling ear to ear, “Now, if we’re done with the ever popular Bold and the Beautiful I’ve got a fight to win with a certain masked crumb, and my people to entertain.”
Friday, January 19
(Unread) Team HOW..
Uhm, hey Mike, bad news. I gotta
cancel Team HOW.
Something came up, and well,
I can’t play with you after all.
Who the fuck is this? Listen you fat neckbeard fuck
lose my fucking number.
The Toilet Tower
Humble Honaleean Thoughts
By Bobby Handy
I guess I’m a full fledged member of Team Avalon now. That’s right, it’s Team Avalon, not Team Bandits, not the eGG Carton, simply Team Avalon. And I’m pretty stoked, to be honest! Sure, I feel a little embarrassed. I kind of wish I could take back the last couple of weeks but so far no one has really said anything about it. Perhaps they’ve forgotten all about it? Maybe I can claim I was PMSing?
I remember a girl I once dated who would always try that when she was being an asshole, but then I realized she must’ve had the world’s heaviest period because she was ALWAYS being an asshole! Her name was Lee, or was it Leigh? Anyway, the only time she wasn’t ragging was when she was sleeping. But then again, she’d often smack me in the face while she was sleeping too, so maybe she was suffering from menstruations even then too?
Jiles says it’s water under the proverbial bridge, but Jiles also told Doozer that one time after they had a tiff and he still plots Doozer’s disappearance. If Doozer ever does truly disappear for good, I’m supposed to tell everyone Cancer was at my house the entire time, and no, Cancer never had a bad word to say about that man.
But I digress.
Everything is back to normal…
You see, the boys might have forgiven my lapse of sanity, or simply agreed to not discuss it, but I can’t forgive myself. These are my boys, and I’ve let them down. They might not yell at me, or say passive aggressive things to me, but I can see it in their eyes.
I’ve disappointed them.
I don’t want to be the chink in the armor. I don’t want to be the weak link. I don’t want to be the reason why we lose. And trust me, if we lose, I’ll be the first person to admit it’s probably because of me! After all this time and effort was put into getting me onto the team, only for me to be the reason we lose… I don’t think I can stomach that.
So what can I do?
How can I hedge my bet here?
The winning streak must continue.
Two and Oh, must turn into Three and Oh. Then Four and Oh. Maybe even Five and Oh?
Hopefully after Three and Oh they stop booking me until the actual War Games match. I can claim I’ve been injured and see if Doozer can replace me. That scam has actually worked quite well in the past.
It’s time to turn Dabney Doubleplay into Dabney Tripleplay. I have to do everything I can to keep this momentum going!
But I have to admit, I’m scared.
I’ve never been one to handle pressure and the ungodly amount of pressure I feel myself falling under, I’m going to be popping diamonds out of my asshole any minute now!
Ole Daphne is a lot better than I was expecting him to be. I mean, he *does* have a win over Darin Zion… I mean Zenon Dylan. How many people can claim that? Or, hear me out, did Zenon Dylan defeat Zenon Dylan, by being Zenon Dylan.
It’s like some Inception shit right here.
A month or so ago the question I kept asking myself was: why not me? Now it seems the question is, could *I* do it again?
It seems the answer, as always, only one way to find out.
Post ReVival 42
The bar is crowded, and in full uproarious swing. Wall to wall people, all singing “I Am the Cool” by Screaming Jay Hawkins. Their boy, the man of the hour, the COOLest of COOL, Cancer Jiles is amongst the swarm, tipping Miller Lite after Miller Lite as he’s surrounded by his people.
“The hospital can wait!” is his running mantra as he is mobbed by one person after another.
If he were married, his wife would probably be texting him right now, something along the lines of: “Why do you have to be so loud at 1:30 am?” or maybe a simple, “Please keep it down”
While he’s in the middle of the swarm, I find myself tucked away in the corner, simply being a wallflower. Watching my friend in rare form, simply being happy amongst his people. There is no arrogance, no condescension, no superiority in his features. Just pure, simple bliss. I can’t help but smile watching him enjoying his victory, while also wondering, will the people of New York celebrate my victory this hard?
Will I even have a victory to celebrate?
My contemplations are interrupted as a sharp pain makes its presence known. Looking down at my bicep I see the flag end of a red tipped dart embedded through the sleeve of my tee. Before I have a chance to look up I hear a feminine voice exclaim, “Oh my god, I’m soooooooo sorry!”
Looking up I see the most beautiful hazel green eyes I’ve ever seen approaching me. I can’t help but smile dumbly at her approach and the first words that come out of my mouth aren’t, “that’s okay,” or “you’re shit at darts,” but rather, “Will you marry me?”
She looks me up and down, and smiles while saying, “Sure. Why not?”