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The Blue Tango · (08-31-2017)

The scene opens up in Calypso's fine ass apartment NOW located in Los Angeles, California. He hired some movers over the past week to get his shit from his totally awesome loft in down town New York City and get it to LA pronto. It cost him a pretty penny to get everything moved across the country so quickly, but it was done by professionals and his wooden furniture and fine china showed up without a scratch.

Now that he's settled into his new place, he's ain't shit to zip over to Hollywood every so often and get savage on Saturday night, if you catch my drift. That's right sporty's, the five-time and current Federweight Champion is coming to Universal Studios this week and that's exactly what brings us to the situation we have right here.

Calypso sits across the table across from his long-time friend and this week his tag team partner, Jamaican Jimmy. Calypso stares down at the table at whatever Jimmy is doing, eyes-locked and totally focused on whatever it is.

"You sure you got this, bruh?"

Jimmy looks up, taking his eyes away but his hands keep moving.

"You tink dis is Jimmy's first time round da block Calypso? Ask Jesus, Jamaican Jimmy seen da block, bruddah."

Calypso nods, still focused on Jimmy's hands as a bead of sweat drips down from his forehead. Jimmy looks up again, but stops what he's doing. Calypso is no longer mezmorized and looks up to a blank stare from his Jamaican homie.

"Been around da block or not you freakin' me out and breakin' me concentration. Be patient, mon, and fuck off."

Calypso smiles and nods and gets up out of the chair. He looks away for a just a second.

"Alright, all done."

Calypso turns back around and Jimmy is holding up the finest wrapped fatty west of Cincinatti. That covers a lot of fucking ground.

"Damn dawg! That was quick!"

"I told you was breakin' me concentration."

Jamaican Jimmy pulls a lighter out of his pocket and goes to light the doobie, but Calypso steps in real fast.

"Hey-Oh! Wait a sec, dude!"

Jimmy looks confused at Calypso.

"It's been a while. I want this to be special. I'm gonna light a candle."

"You gat to be kiddin' me."

Calypso rushes out of the room and starts digging through boxes looking for a candle.

"Just gimme a minute bro! I'm still not completely unpacked."

"You about as square as dat box you diggin' tru, mon. I got a candle here come light it."

"Awe, shoot."

Calypso gets up and looks across to about six more packed boxes and basically says, "fuck it". He walks back into the kitchen where Jamaican Jimmy has already started.

"Damn, dude, thanks for waiting."

"Dares plenty to go 'round, Calypso, mah boi. Don't fret on dat mon."

He passes the honky over to Calypso who holds it like a pussy and takes a tiny rip from it. He gags, scoffs, hacks, and coughs! After he opens his eyes, they're instantly blood red and he looks like a frog man.

"Mah dog handles his shit betta dan you Calypso. You fuckin' white city boys no shit when it come to decent herb deez days, mon."

Calypso can't take the smile from his face. Everytime he goes to say something he laughs.

"Mah Jesus, Calypso, I tink you had enough dis shit. You fuckin' white city boys. I tell you Calypso no weed before a show. Mad love but theres no need for Jimmy to partner with a baked potato."

"Huh-heh..."

A few hours later, Jimmy has left and Calypso had apparently raided his cabinets for everything he had. When there was only gluten-free stuff in there and nothing to feed the hunger within himself, he left the apartment in search of some God damn munchies. Just down the street is a small convenience store that he's gone to once or twice. He walks in through the door and it slams shut with a bell dinging off of the glass. An old Asian man and woman stand behind the counter behind glass, staring at him with a scowl. Calypso smiles and nods at the couple on his way by, which seemed like in slow motion to him. He looks around the shelves, coolers, and menus in search of something, but nothing triggers his needs. Until he reaches the donuts.

White powdered donuts, buy Gawd.

Calypso stares at them for what felt like hours before the loud speaker squeaks and the old Asian man's voice shouts over it.

"You buy and get out! We closed! You go now!"

It scares the bah-Jesus out of him and he almost ran out of the store with nothing. He DID panic, but grabbed a large white bag and started filling it with white powder donuts. He carries it to the counter and sets it down. He smiles through the glass at the couple, who remain with the scowl.

"Uh, heh. One dozen donuts please."

"Ten dawrah!"

Damn!

Calypso pulls a fifty dollar bill from his wallet and slides it under the glass. The old Asian man looks down at it and snaps back up to Calypso.

"We no have change for dat."

Damn!!

Calypso pulls his credit card from his wallet then.

"We no take credit cards!"

Calypso doesn't remember this place being that difficult before.

"That's all I have!"

Calypso shrugs and shouts to them.

"ATM in back! You go now! You pay! Go!"

Calypso nods and makes his way to the back of the store where an old ATM machine sits. He enters his card and punches in his code.

Accept surcharge of $10.00?

DAMN!!!!

Yes.

Calypso walks back up to the counter and throws a ten dollar bill down and slides it under the glass and walks out with his donuts.

A few hours later Calypso is sitting in the darkness of his apartment. The 70" plasma TV the only lighting. Powdered sugar and crumbs take up most of the small area of Calypso's seating area. They stretch from the loveseat (oh yeah) over to his recliner. The toilet flushes from the back and Calypso stumbles out from the shadows groaning.

"Oh, FML."

Powdered sugar covers so much of his face that he looks like a shitty clown.

"Breaking my dang diet just a couple days before my match. That damn, Jimmy."

Calypso plops down on the recliner and stares into the television. The light flickers back into his face, his eyes aren't so blood shot now.

"I'm going to be straight here. Tonight could possibly ruin my performance this Saturday. It's one thing to skip a day at the gym to heal up, but I just took about twelve steps backwards here. I should be ashamed of myself."

Calypso's belly pokes out like he's pregnant as he lies back, dead, in his chair.

"The Crosby Boys looks in shape, too. Like, they look good. Damn good. And they're like the perfect team. What greater team than a couple of brothers right? Jamaican J is totally my bro, but it's different, ya know? I bet they're different in only the best ways, too. Like a dark on and a light one. A dare-devil and a level-headed one. That badass and the logical one. One to always take risks while the other one is always cleaning up the others mess. The dare-devil is, or atleast was, addicted to pain killers at one time. Which led to the turmoil for the brothers. The other knew that kind of lifestyle and the bumps he was taking would lead down this painful road, and painful it was. The team was held together by the love that only two brothers could have. The reaped was sown and the Crosby Boys lived to work-out together another day! Together, they fought the demons and it made their bond stronger than ever. It led them to championships. It led them to fame. It led them to the XWF. It led them to inside my damn head........"

"You fuckin' always talkin' to you self you crazy fool?"

"AYYYEEEAAAH!!"

Calypso shrieks as he falls backwards out of his chair. He hides behind it and looks over the arm of the chair.

"Where did you come from?!"

Calypso shrieks to Jamaican Jimmy.

"I thought you left!"

"Where wood I go? Back to Jamaica? You crazy fool, Calypso."

Calypso scratches his head and stares at Jamaican Jimmy.

"I been here da whole tym Calypso. You walked in here turned off da light and ate dose donuts like day was keepin ya alive, mon."

"Not keeping me alive, Jamaican J.. They was healin' mah wounds, bruh."

"Bullshit. You hungry from duh weed then you went on a silly rant about da competition Saturday."

"Have you seen them, dude? They're like the Hardy Boyz 2.0!"

"Who dah fuck do ya mean?"

"Jeff and Matt, the Hardyz."

"Not dem! Da odda ones."

"Oh, the Crosby Boys. Jayson and Patrick."

"Who duh fuck are day?"

"Well, ones kinda rough while the other has a soft heart. They grew up with the dream to one day wrestle together........"

Calypso drones on about the competition. Jamaican Jimmy stares at Calypso with a blank look on his face, half listening to his partners rant. He pulls another doobie from behind his ear and sparks it up.

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