Round Two: What the Hell is This?

Round Two: What the Hell is This?

Posted on November 12, 2021 at 4:22 pm by Bobby Dean


Not the greatest of starts, that’s for sure!

Let’s ignore the fact that if I lose the next 3 matches, I’m going to be homeless, friendless, jobless, and well, foodless.

I can’t get swept. I can’t get swept!

I repeat that mantra again and again in my head as I go through the motions on getting ready to leave the arena.

Walking towards the parking lot I see Mike Best across the hall. Of course he ignores me, but the mere sight of him causes the light bulb to brighten! Maybe, just maybe, I can pull this off.


One foot plods along right behind the other. Over and over and over again. The speed dial reads a surprising “6” (out of 25…) Sweat pours out of my every pore, as my breath is ragged and raspy.

“Did you get cleared by your diabetes doctor before you started this routine?” a voice calls out from over my shoulder.

“Ye-ah.” I reply, unable to spit that simple one word out in a single breath. I don’t bother to stop and turn, instead just chugging along this fucking contraption of death.

“Wait…” the voice calls out, as whoever was speaking makes her way towards the front of the machine, to get a better look at me. “YOU!”

Of course.

Alex. Fucking. Beckman.

Of all the people who I could come across it had to be her. Her eyes bore into mine, causing me to get my feet tangled and almost eat shit on the stupid treadmill, but I manage to catch myself at the last second. She reaches over and quickly pulls the killswitch on the machine, leaving me to run in place like an idiot before I finally just stop.

Hands on my knees, I bend over gasping for air. I look at the watch on my wrist and smile in triumph. Nine minutes and seven seconds! The longest stretch on a treadmill I’ve ever made!

“You can’t be here!” she says, her voice dropping an octave as her muscles tense. As if she were seconds away from launching herself at me.

“What do you mean?” I ask dumbly, choosing to ignore the fact that the last time our paths crossed, she nearly killed me. “I’ve never been here before!”

“Come on, Bobby, you’ve been banned from Six Time Academy! TWICE!” she calls out, as if that was the most obvious thing. “You can’t come in here to train, not after what you tried to do to me last time!”

“Bobby?” I ask dumbly, I can pull off “dumbly” pretty well. “Who is this handsome fellow Bobby you speak of? No, no, no, I’m no Bobby Dean. I’m… Dobby Bean…”

She looks at me like I’m the dumbest person alive. Of course, if you’re going to go incognito, you might want to wear something not sky blue, with the name and face of the guy you’re claiming not to be, plastered over the front.

Needless to say, my time in Six Time Academy is very short lived. A few bulky members grab me by the arms and none too gently show me out the door. I really need to work on my aliases. Next time, maybe I’ll say my name is Lunchbox Larry, no one will know who that is!


When it comes to furniture, in Houston, Texas there really is only one place you can go to…


Smiling I walk through the automatic doors and into the cavernous complex of various furnishings. There is a massive path throughout the place that if you follow along it will take you through every room you could imagine. Living rooms, bedrooms, game rooms, there is even a small section for both the kitchen and the bathroom

But I wasn’t here to window shop. I was here with one thing on my mind.

“Welcome, can I help you find something today?” the smiling face of “Rebecca” asks as I try to walk past here while trying to avoid eye contact.

With a groan, I stop and turn, answering her, “Chairs.”

“Chairs?” she repeats, nodding her head as if she knew exactly what I needed. “We’ve got the finest selection of dining room chairs, patio chairs, living room chairs, recliners, lift chairs, office chairs, gravity chairs. Heck, we even have a couple of massage chairs that offer zero gravity. That’s where they tilt so far back you feel like you’re floating in space.”

I shake my head no throughout the entire speech. “No. Massage chairs won’t cut it. I can’t smash one of those in a guy’s face, can I?”

“Uhm, what?” She is completely dumbfounded.

“You know, a chair that is both heavy enough to hurt, but light enough to swing?” I ask while miming driving a chair into Solex’s ugly face. “But it also has to be comfortable enough to sit in, because I’m going to need to take many rests on my way down to the ring.”

“Ring?” she repeats. “Listen, I don’t know what kind of kinky stuff you’re into, but I don’t think Gallery Furniture is the place you need.”

“Oh…” My heart drops. The vision of standing over the defeated and bloody body of Steve Solex begins to trickle away.

Rebecca steps in closer than I comfortably enjoy, whispering under her breath, “If you’re looking for the rough stuff check out Adam and Eve’s over off Westheimer. They’re about 10 minutes away, and they cater to the BDSM stuff. Or so I’ve been told…”

“Oh!?” my voice perks up, as now visions of me in a full latex body suit stands over the defeated and bloody body of Steve Solex, a chair covered in studs in hand.


20 minutes later…

The place before me is gaudy, covered in pink and bright lights. Phalluses of all shapes and sizes litter the wall. Leather whips, paddles, and other various tools are put on display. But there is one section that immediately catches my eye.

“Oh man, I need one of these!!!” I exclaim, immediately grabbing it off the shelf. Turning over in my hands, looking at every nook and cranny.

“You’re into this kind of thing?” the weary voice of the saleswoman named “Becky” asks me as she approaches. Doubt is clear in her voice and expression.

“Of course I am!” I exclaim, putting the leather mask on. The only opening provided in the mask is the hole around the mouth. “I am a hardcore competitive eater! This thing would do wonders with my hotdog game. Just shove those wieners in one after the other. Don’t have to worry about getting distracted by the crowd, or the other eaters next to me. Man, this would be perfect!”

“…” Becky silently departs, tip-toeing back to the register and as far away from me as she can get.

“Shit.” I exclaim, quickly yanking the mask off. “I’m not here for masks.” I turn to Becky, but notice she’s not there. “Uhm, ma’am, do you have any chairs!?”

Becky, back at the register cautiously raises her hand and points to the far corner.

Smiling, I give her a thumbs up, tuck the mask under my arm and make my way through the store like a bull in a china shop. Once I arrive, my eyes light up! The perfect chair sits before me, and it has Steve Solex’s name written all over it!

Well, it would, except the seat of the chair has a giant hole cut out of it, for some reason. I’m assuming it’s for aerodynamics, makes for a faster swing!

“I’ll take it!”


Steve, I have to admit, our first match… Went exactly the way I thought it would.

You’re a better athlete than me. Certainly a better wrestler. Hell, a better man! But who knew you were also crazier than me!? I guess I’ve been living in the past. For me, when I see Steve Solex all I can imagine is #1 Dad. I keep living with my head in the ground, forgetting you’re now an asshole!

Good news for me, now I won’t feel so bad punching your face in!

I guess I’ll need to get my head out of my ass and start paying attention. If only there was a week where I could reply to you, instead leaving me to lead this dance of ours.

Oh well, shall we? *extends hand for another dance*

As I hold you in my arms, swaying to the music in my head, I have to admit you’ve made a mistake Steve. You’ve proven that you can beat me in a straight up match, which was never really a question I doubted. But Steve, why in the world wouldn’t you make our next match stipulation “normal match”?

Come on now.

Adding stipulations doesn’t do you any favors, unlike for me. For me, it means the world! I don’t have to out wrestle you at Refueled, I simply have to outsmart you! And one thing people always underestimate, is my willingness to do anything I can to cheat to win. You want me to wallop you in the face with a chair, well get ready to kiss that mustache goodbye, because I’m gonna hit you so hard those whiskers will be embedded onto my chair!

Your best bet in this Best of 7 Series is simply make these matches as straight up as you can. Base them on athletics and ability, then I won’t stand a chance. Because if I get the chance to pick a stipulation you know it’s not going to be anything you’ve ever thought of! I know I shouldn’t be saying these things out loud, but to be honest, I don’t think you’ll be making it this far. I think once you reach the gimp mask you’ll be changing the channel.

Steve, I can’t wait for this weekend! I’ve been practicing my chair swing all week long! I think I’m beginning to get chair-elbow! I want to wish you good luck this weekend, but again, I have to remind myself, #1 Dad is dead. So fuck you, I hope you lose!