A classic tag team sitting on the aforementioned couch.
BDSM on the aforementioned tv.
Not the classic tag team, either.
They’re on the couch.
Larry’s eyes come as close to leaving their respective sockets as ever while his jaw rests on the floor. Bobby’s snacking on some funyuns.
Lunchbox: So this is why everyone gets weird about our name…
Bobby: What’re you talking about, Terry? Everyone loves our name! Who doesn’t love them some BDSM?!
Larry sheepishly raises his right hand. Bobby pretends he doesn’t see it.
Then Larry’s face quickly turns cross. And not because of the weird, sexual gnashing happening on the television. He slowly turns his head toward his teammate, one eyebrow raised higher than the other.
Lunchbox: Hey, uhhhhh, Bob?
The Beautiful Man from Honalee grunts while shoving a fat fistful of Funyuns into his mouth.
Lunchbox: You ever think it’s Wednesday, and then realize it’s actually Thursday?
Dean turns, clearly confused, while slowly chomping away.
Bobby: Huh? Why would I care if it’s Wednesday or Thursday, Gary?
Lunchbox: I don’t know. Just thought of it. Remember how awesome that feeling used to be when I was at school and stuff. Stupid. Sorry.
Bobby: No worries, Perry. Now pay attention to this next bit. Might learn a thing or two. Might even be able to use some of the moves against that Gnash guy, heh?
Larry’s blank eyes say it all. And that’s a good thing, too, since he’s speechless. Dean mistakes the look for ignorance.
Bobby: You know you have a match this weekend, right, Barry? Against one half of those weird trash bros I beat-
Bobby: With your help! I was getting to that. Sheesh!
Larry rolls his eyes, then drops his head and stares at the floor.
Lunchbox: Yeah, no I know about that. Trying not to think about it too much, to be honest. Everytime I’m on my own, I lose. Then you go out and win freakin’ handicap matches.
Somehow, some way, Bobby Dean puffs up. And the doctors said it wasn’t possible.
Lunchbox: And that’s not even it. I keep getting that feeling. Like I lost a day or something. But it’s not a good feeling like it used to be. It’s like my gut is sinking, ya know?
Bobby: I don’t think mine can sink anymore, Carey.
Lunchbox: I could use that day to prep more for Gnash. Dude’s wicked scary, Bob. Have you tried to listen to him talk? Or yell, I guess.
A swift shake of Dean’s blond head as he returns his focus to the television.
Lunchbox: And I’m also getting that feeling like I forgot to do something I was supposed to do. You ever get that one?
Bob snaps his head back to face his mentee with that cherubic grin.
Bobby: Everyday. Probably because I was supposed to do something I didn’t do, though.
Larry doesn’t look relieved.
KNOCK KNOCK KNOCK
Larry nearly jumps off of the couch, as if he were a teenager and that was his mom about to catch him watching BDSM. Larry frantically looks back at his mentor and then to the door, and back again.
Bobby pretends peripheral vision isn’t a thing.
Larry slowly turns toward the door and leans in, like that matters.
Lunchbox: W-who is it?
Voice: I’m here from Classic Wrestling. To interview…
Larry’s eyes do that nearly popping out thing again.
Voice: Lunchbox Larry? Yeah, looks like that’s it.
Larry slowly turns back toward Bobby, who’s suddenly looking back at him looking like he’s about to have a giggle fit.
Lunchbox: OH [CENSORED]!