We open to the sight of a kid, the size of a professional American football player, sitting with criss-crossed legs in the middle of a messy room. Hoarders-level messy. The back to back, capital L’s in orange against the black uni would indicate that the kid’s Lunchbox Larry.
His broad shoulders hunch over while he performs what looks as complicated as surfer over whatever is resting on his legs in front of him. Larry yanks at something, leading to a snap, leading to a painful yelp.
LL: SONUVAH BEEEEE!
Out of the corner of Lunchbox’s eye, he sees a glimmer. His head snaps like a sighthound when a squirrel scurries from out of nowhere.
LL: PERFECT! Mental note: keep an eye out for gold or yellow spray paint. Also, ask our opponents at the next show if they know where I can get a nice, used car. They seem like the happy helper type.
Enter Bobby Dean, featuring his blue robe and prominent gut that prevents him from tying the robe together. Bob eyes his tag partner suspiciously while gnawing at a humongous turkey leg.
BBD: Happy Thanksgiving, Terry! Whatcha got there?
A sheepish smile crosses Larry’s face as he pops up onto his feet with the two makeshift titles clutched between his muscular arms. With equal parts pride and trepidation, Lunchbox holds them out for his mentor to behold. The big kid’s brown eyes beam, longing for approval.
LL: I was just making some decorations like I do every year on Turkey day and I saw these plates and thought they kinda looked like-
BBD: MY PRESCIOUS!… es!
Before Larry could finish, the turkey leg went airborne and the makeshift titles were snatched by Dean’s greasy fingers. The Most Beautiful Man held those titles up to his face like they were the softest blankets in the world.
Larry looked up to his mentor, eyes filled with joy. However, they quickly drained as he watched Bobby’s face sour.
BBD: Who’m I kidding, Mary?! These pieces of trash are nothing like the real things! The weight. The shine. The prestige! It’s just not the same!
I’m one motion, Dean sends the fake belts flying as he reaches over and picks up the turkey leg back from the floor. The portly man pouts, then blows at the leg in front of his cherubic face for five whole seconds, before taking a caveman-like bite out of it.
BBD: Five second rule!!!
Larry’s voice awkwardly emerges from the deflated lump of skin, muscle, and bones in front of Bobby.
LL: I just thought-
Chewed up turkey sprayed Lunchbox as Dean spat in disgust.
BBD: THAT’S THE PROBLEM, SHERRY! YOU THINKING! WHO, IN THEIR RIGHT MIND, EVER TOLD YOU THAT THINKING WAS YOUR STRONG POINT?
Poor Larry thought that was a serious question.
LL: I had a football coach who tho-
BBD: FOOTBALL PLAYERS ARE IDIOTS, BARRY! DID YOU BRAG ABOUT BEING THE SMARTEST KID IN SPECIAL ED, TOO?
Lunchbox shook his hung head in shame, muttering under his breath.
LL: Stupid Nash Hall…
BBD: You know what, Harry? I’m done. That’s right. I’m sick of carrying all this weight.
The comment sent Larry’s eyes straight to Bobby’s gut.
BBD: You, Perry! YOU’RE the extra weight! Just look at the facts! I beat Foreign Legion BY MYSELF, then WE… A.K.A, YOU… lost to them! HECK, you couldn’t even beat Leon one on one! OH, and let’s not forget the DUMBEST thing you’ve EVER done! Which, mind you, is quite a high bar! But ratting on me to Chicoda when we could’ve beaten those magical mongloids?! And now we have to face Joel Osteen and his marble-mouthed moron brother.
Larry’s big, brown eyes glisten as he fights back tears.
LL: That’s not how you re-
BBD: Too much, Larry!
The use of his actual name caught the younger half of BDSM off guard, causing Larry to tilt his head sideways like a confused dog.
BBD: You know what, Carey?
Now realizing it was a coincidence, Lunchbox’s head returns to its normal, upright position.
BBD: Last time I felt like this, my momma told me I was being possessed by the angry demon. I exercised like you’d never believe to get that sucker out!
LL: (under his breath) I think you mean exorcised… and I don’t.
BBD: Now I feel like it’s returned! Do you have any idea what this means?!
LL: You’re… uhm… re? Repossessed?
BBD: That’s the dumbest name for anything I’ve ever heard, Dairy!