BOUNCE! SHAKE! BUMP! UGH!

“What the fuck kinda island is this?” I remarked upon having my body thrown in a myriad of directions for the thousandth time. The terrain resembled something you’d see in Jurassic Park. The foliage, well, about the same. We were straight up in the jungle. Driving down something resembling a road, fighting through a litany of intrusive branches and leaves.

“I’d say the guy screwed us, but…” The Wizard paused, gaining hold of common sense, “he really wanted that Mexican Pizza.”

“Truth.”

We remain convicted. Surely the man would not have lied with a Mexican Pizza on the line. Surely, eventually, AT SOME POINT this would all lead to a clearing with THE ISLAND revealing itself.

THUD

Ouch. Silence. Pain. Darkness.

---

“AND ON THE TWENTY-SECOND DAY OF THE TENTH MONTH OF THE YEAR 2020, THE MIGHTIEST WIZARD OF THEM ALL EMERGED FROM HIS ELONGATED SLUMBER WITH THE FIRE IN HIS EYES REMINISCENT OF THE FIRE WHICH RAGED WITHIN HEROES OF THE PAST!” the Town Crier screamed to all the LARPers in attendance.

“Even Link?”

“YES, EVEN THE GREAT LINK.”

All the LARPers, seated, cross legged, in front of the Town Crier, who stood upon a stump, smiled and nodded, saying, “I love Link.” That is, until an individual made the fatal error of calling Link ‘Zelda’. He was swiftly dealt with.

“FRIENDS, MAIDENS, COUNTRYMEN, WARRIORS, CEASE WITH THE BEATING OF THAT IGNORANT FOOL AND LEND ME THINE EARS!” Well versed in doing whatever someone instructs, the LARPers stopped kicking the ignorant guy’s ass for making the fatal ‘Zelda’ mistake and returned their focus to the voice booming over their heads. The ‘Zelda’ guy slowly crawled away, moaning and grunting, appearing to be considerably injured.

“I GIVE TO YOU HIS MAJESTY. THE LEGEND. I GIVE TO YOU THE WIZARD!!’

“HUZZAH! HUZZAH! HUZZAH!” The LARPers rose to their feet and chanted in unison. Their hero had returned and, not a minute too late. They were beginning to lose faith.

Hovering toward the tree stump, The Wizard, appearing more magical than usual, kept his beard held high. His arms stretched outward as a show of wanton embrace. The LARPers gasped at his magical entrance, stunned by his ability to float. Upon nearing the stump, his arms scrambled inward and under his robe, performing some task.

He came to a halt. Carefully, he maneuvered his positioning while waving Ed over. They tried to make a very slick exchange...but, the truth was impossible to hide as Ed zoomed off on a segway. The LARPers, full of whimsy and hope, chose to ignore the obvious device that was hidden under the Wizard’s robe...they chose to believe he floated.

He stood atop the tree stump and extended his magical staff toward the Town Crier, “Crier, thank you very much for that humble introduction.”

The Town Crier bowed, “At your service, my liege.” He finished and looked up at the end of the Wizard’s staff, dangling in front of his face. He seemed a bit...unsure.

“Touch it, it’s okay. You can touch it.”

“Are...are you sure?”

The Wizard offered a stoic nod. The Town Crier reached up and touched the end of the staff. His hand lingered...it fondled...it got a bit weird. The Wizard yanked his staff away, “Alright, I think that’s just about enough.”

“S-s-sorry…” the Town Crier tottered off

“Ahem,” The Wizard cleared his majestic throat while stroking his exalted beard. “Brothers!”

“HEY!” a female voice cried out.

“AND sisters!”

The female LARPer smiled. Other females in attendance looked her way, giving a solemn nod. Women’s rights would not be suppressed within the LARPing community.

“I am here for a number of reasons. First and foremost to let you all know that tales of my demise have been greatly, tremendously, enthusiastically exaggerated! For I am still me and me is who I will be...who is me? Why, a pro wrestling legend, that’s who!”

“HUZZAH!”

“Sure, Robert Main may have thrown a giant, rusty, disgusting wrench into the pristine machine that was my career arch but, hey, that’s okay. The true test of a man...the true test of a legend...the true test of a HERO isn’t how he handles success...but how he handles – defeat.”

“AND SHE!”

“Sorry, m’ladies, force of habit. The true test of a hero is how THEY handle – defeat.”

A nice, composed round of applause from the LARPers. The Wizard leaned forward, giving a slight bow.

“I could have curled up in the fetal position and concealed myself in the darkness after losing to Robert Main at Super Relentless. I could have spiraled into a black hole of depression…”

In the background Edward Mof winced, turning his back to the speech, unwilling to give anything away.

“Did I? No sir! I picked myself up and moved ahead toward my next challenge. A challenge we shall win, fellow LARPers...a challenge that is ours for the taking!”

“HUZZAH!”

Standing tall, The Wizard spun around, twirling his staff. It kinda looked impressive but it also kinda looked lame. Still, it had the LARPers captivated. Nearly losing his balance off the stump, The Wizard decided he’d done enough spinning and twirling. Regaining his pristine posture, he cleared his throat, “Now, allow me to tickle thine ears with a fable so rich in tradition you shan't leave this place thinking of anything else.”

“Ooohhhhh…”

“Behold...the fable...the tale...the story of Wee Willie Whiskey.”

Silence. He had them captivated. Well, save for one LARPer who looked to be dressed like Gawain.

“Umm,” Fake Gawain piped up, “that sounds very similar to the name of your opponent, Robbie Bourbon.”

“WHO SAID THAT?!” The Wizard’s voice grew in cadence and danced with anger. His eyes located Fake Gawain. They narrowed with a hint of malice. His beard seized up, ready for a fight.

“I...I’m just saying. Robbie-Willie. Whiskey-Bourbon...it’s all a little sus…”

“Quiet, Gawain! And, besides, who the fuck LARPs as Gawain, anyway? Seriously.”

The other LARPers nodded in agreement. Fake Gawain quieted down.

“As I was saying, Wee Willie Whiskey...he wore the crown of the kingdom known as Hart. A crown that he…”

“Umm,” Fake Gawain interjected once again, bringing about a groan from his fellow LARPers. “I mean...Robbie Bourbon is the Hart Champion. I...I hate to be a wet blanket, but, ya know…”

The Wizard sighed. Our view zooms in on Fake Gawain...seated and staring up, we see The Wizard’s staff appear from the top, left corner of the screen. It hangs above Fake Gawain’s head for a second before diving downward and smacking him on the forehead. We cut back to a shot of The Wizard on his stump, holding his staff.

“Now, can we get back to the fucking fable?”

All the LARPers nodded.

“So, as I was saying...the tale of Wee Willie Whiskey, the king of Hart.”

---

“Are you okay?” His voice broke through a still, dark void that felt like death. A light at the end of an unending tunnel. Rope being extended as a life line before a tumultuous descent down the bleakest well.

“Yea...I think so. What happened?”

The irrevocably cracked windshield of the Slam Buss provided nothing but darkness, wedged up against some immovable object. Leaning back, I felt and pressed portions of my face, wincing due to the sensitivity of certain areas. Catching a glance to the side, I noticed The Wizard...he seemed to be in far better shape. Working on the passenger’s door, he attempted to power it open.

“What did we hit?”

“I don’t know...put your feet in my back and give me a push, I think I’ve just about got this thing open.”

I did as instructed. Several seconds of unique labor and the door broke free. The Wizard exited first. I was narrowly behind. Our feet hit dampened dirt. Shrubbery and foliage surrounded...it felt like a rain forest, a deep, dark jungle. The Wizard hopped atop what remained of the nose belonging to the Slam Buss. Utilizing his elongated frame, he reached up and managed to crawl into what seemed another realm, disappearing from my sight.

“Hey! Where did you go?”

Struggling, I managed to perch myself atop the nose of the van. I waited...and waited...finally, his arm reached through, “Take my hand! You have to see this…”

Gripping his hand, he hoisted me up, to freedom...to light...to...The Island.

Or, well, kinda.

The best way I can describe what we ran into would be...some kind of reserve, trench...an elevated chunk of land that is manufactured to contain a bunch of water. We’d crashed right into the side...several feet of immovable Earth.

On the other side...water...lots of it...with a small, wooden structure in the middle. I’d call it a treehouse but there weren’t any trees. It sat there, atop stilts. People moved about within the structure, under a shaky roof. While not what I had anticipated...it did meet the minimum requirement. It was, technically, an island.

“Is this…”

“I think so, Ed...I think this is where these women are being held captive.”

“My goodness. I honestly expected more.”

The Wizard gave me a nod, “Yep, well, when you’re whoring out sex dolls, I guess expecting some extravagant island might be a bit unrealistic.”

“True. What should we do?”

“Swim out there, rescue those poor women and give these sex traffickers a good WHAT FOR.”

I eyed the water. It was going to be a long swim...PLUS, I wasn’t sure how clean that water was. Then I considered fighting a bunch of men who are so sex starved that they must pay to sleep with fake women. The whole idea sounded like a strong no-go, to me, anyway. But The Wizard was on a mission. So, when I saw his fist extend...I offered mine up. Fist bump. The mission was a green light.

---

The LARPers leaned in with child-like intrigue as The Wizard continued to opine.

“Wee Willie Whiskey infiltrated the Kingdom of Hart and usurped the reigning monarch, a person named Nathaniel. I hesitate to call this person a man because, well, from what I know of the former King Nathaniel, he exhibited very few masculine qualities. Regardless, Wee Willie Whiskey took the crown for himself and became the ruler of Kingdom Hart.”

A giant bucket of popcorn appeared and was passed around among the LARPers. The Wizard paused upon hearing several crunches and catching an aroma of that buttery goodness. He tapped his staff twice atop the stump, “How about a little something for the Wiz?”

The bucket of popcorn was instantly rushed forward. The Wizard leaned over and snared a handful of salted delight. He tossed a few kernels into his mouth and continued.

“Mmm, delicious. Anyway, Wee Willie Whiskey, the new King of Hart invited his royal crew into the hallowed halls of Hart for a celebratory feast. This crew, a group dubbed Band o Betas, aka BoB, consisted of such notables as Funder Chuckles, The Jester...Jizz Fury, The Whore...Mikel Grapes, The Vintner...Monkey Ozvald, a primate who claimed to be from the land of oz, unsure if he could fly...and Titty Twist, the other whore…”

“There were two whores?!” a LARPer asked.

“...yes, there were two whores. Wee Willie Whiskey was a very lavish man with an extreme thirst for the carnal aspects of life.”

The LARPers nodded. Two whores, it made sense.

“And there were others but nobody really gave a shit about them. Wee Willie Whiskey and BoB had established their cabinet…”

“Cabinet? Wouldn’t it be called a court?”

“WHO SAID THAT?” The angry Wizard scoured the group of LARPers for the interrupter. A few hands pointed at a man next in line for popcorn. “No popcorn for you, sir. Not until you can learn how to sit and enjoy a story without interrupting.” The LARPer, dressed as Yoda, lowered his head in sadness. “Yoda AND Gawain? The hell kind of LARPing event is this...nevermind, back to the story!”

The popcorn passed over the crestfallen LARPer. Satisfied with this act of punishment, The Wizard continued.

“The group sat and they drank and they talked about things like Ecto Cooler...a strange nectar whispered about in dark circles...a nectar whose existence was rumored but never confirmed. All in all they were a pretty proud group, even if they were betas. Proud of their accomplishments. Proud of their standing. Proud of the spot Wee Willie Whiskey’s victory over Nathaniel had placed them. All was well within the group.”

In an act of drama, The Wizard extended his staff and slowly moved it side to side.

“Their spell cast down upon the residents of Hart. A spell that told of a bright future which would last for generations. A spell that promised the residents of Hart prosperity. They were the MVPs of Warfare, the bastions of battle...an unstoppable force which would turn Hart into the immovable object. Their confidence was brimming...so bright that they had extended offers outside of the Kingdom of Hart to others...offers to join the Band o Betas.”

---

TRANSMISSION INTERRUPTED

IMPORTANT MESSAGE FOR THE WIZARD

JOIN BOB

JOIN BOB

JOIN BOB

THAT IS ALL

TRANSMISSION RESUMES

---

“I am not going in that water,” I said for about the tenth time. It was dark and dirty. While far from the dangers that resided within, say, the Australian coast...I was sure a few less than ideal creatures were roaming concealed within the brown mess.

“We’ve got to,” The Wizard dipped a toe into the water, “it’s not even that cold. C’mon, sit atop my shoulders...I’ll walk you over there.”

That felt kinda gay. But, then again, we were in the midst of a horrifically strange mission so...when in Rome. I perched myself atop The Wizard’s shoulders like a kid does his father at a parade or concert and we made our way toward The Island. Wading through the water, we were both unsure how deep the pond reached.

“You okay down there?”

“Yea, it’s only up to my thighs. I don’t think it’ll get much deeper.”

And, sure enough, it didn’t. Waist deep was about as high as the murky sludge threatened. Once we reached ‘The Island’, The Wizard came to a halt, “Okay, pull yourself up and tell me what you see.”

“Really?”

“Dude, I just carried you all the way out here in what is likely waist deep sewage. The least you can do is peek over the floor and give me an idea of what I’m stepping into.”

He had a point. So, I did.

“Sweet rabbit feet…” It was hard to prepare myself for what awaited my previously unmolested eyes. Several middle aged men thrusting and pumping away on the helpless bodies belonging to abducted sex dolls. Grunting. Moaning. Dirty talk. It was foul.

“BLAH!!” I couldn’t take anymore, hurling my guts into the brown liquid.

“DUDE!” The Wizard waded to his right, trying to avoid the floating puke from staining his robe.

“Sorry, it’s just...it’s so gross.”

“What did you see?”

“Lots of old, ugly men having sex with dolls.”

“Well, this confirms my worst fears. There isn’t any time to waste, Ed. Grab on to something...I’m climbing up there. It’s time we rescue these poor women from this life of slavery.”

I didn’t have much time, so I gripped the floor of The Island and hung out...legs dangling, inches from the top of the water. Then, like a shark breaching the ocean surface, The Wizard leapt from the pond floor, he snared The Island, pulled himself up and soon stood among the deviants.

“You’ve had your fun, boys. Now it’s time to pay the price. I, The Wizard, am here to put an end to your nefarious shenanigans and return these stricken ladies to the warm embrace of their lovers.”

The grunting, moaning, and other pleasure filled sounds ceased.

“If you will all kindly remove your penises from an orifice before I begin fighting, I would appreciate it.”

There was a pause. I tried to pull myself up, but my forearms were exhausted. I had to rely solely on my hearing (which was better than average) to witness what was about to go down.

“Fair enough. It’s go time, gentlemen.”

His heavy footsteps proceeded. Scuffling ensued.

“Unhand me you miscreant…” an older voice demanded. Seconds later, that same voice shrieked, “Ahh!!”

“Please, please...I’m the manager of a Home Depot. I’m very important. I…” this voice was soon silenced by what sounded like a boot to the jaw. A loud thud followed.

“Look, I was forced to come here, okay? This wasn’t my idea. I can get you a discount on a really neat used van. We’ve got white ones…”

The Wizard cut him off, “You mean to tell me YOU provided the Slam Buss?”

“Shit…” he was caught. And, soon, picked up and slammed atop the hard, wooden surface of The Island.

More sounds of violence shook the surprisingly sturdy apparatus as I continued to hang out, hopeful my grip would last the duration of the rescue mission. Music to my ears, it sounded as though The Wizard had approached his final dissident.

“Alright, come on, take your ass whipping.”

“No!” the man was resolute in his defiance. It was at that point I caught sight of something in the distance...an old jet ski, floating atop the pond. “Eat my dust, Wizard!” the man yelled before diving into the pond and climbing aboard his jet ski. He drove away, leaving us stranded on the island.

“Damnit,” The Wizard bemoaned before heading my way. Extending his hand, he pulled me atop the apparatus. We watched as the man atop the jet ski reached land opposite from our crash site...disembarking, he ran up the hill and then down it, disappearing from site.

“Who was that?” I wondered.

The Wizard bent over and snared what looked like some form of identification. “It says here...Geoffrey Pepstein.”

“Hmm.”

“Yes, hmm indeed, Mof. I’m guessing he might be the ringleader.”

“Should we follow him?”

“Nah, we have more pressing matters, like returning these fine ladies to the arms of their loved ones. Getting them somewhere safe.”

“And what about all these...badly beaten, naked men?”

“We will leave them here. They can answer for their crimes to a higher power.”

“Really? I mean, shouldn’t we at least report them to their jobs or families or something?”

“Yea, you’re probably right. Grab their wallets and remove their IDs.”

I did as instructed. Once finished, we hopped off the apparatus and onto a raft the Wizard fashioned by tying all the plastic women together. Using his staff, we rowed toward safety.

“This is a good day, Ed.”

“Feels good.”

“We have saved these women from a life of disparagement. We are heroes. Heroes, Ed. Fuckin heroes.”

It sounded great. It sounded right. All that was left was to deliver the women back to their heart broken lovers.

---

“Ah yes, times in the Kingdom of Hart for the Band o Betas appeared sublime. Aside from one, tiny, unrecognized fact – their authority had yet to be challenged.”

“Ooohhhh,” went the LARPers as the story finally received a bit of intrigue.

“Yes my fellow LARPers, it is one thing to win a crown. It is another to defend it. You see, warriors don’t go around challenging worthless individuals. What would be the point? Risk life and limb over...nothing? Nope. Challengers seek out those with something to lose. The more to lose, the greater the challenger.”

The LARPers nodded. One was heard saying, “Yea, that does make sense. I know I didn’t challenge Sir Darryl to one on one combat for nothing. I wanted his McDonalds coupon, damnit.”

“And so a King...the King of Hart, Wee Willie Whiskey, went about establishing his image. His facade. An aesthetic that screamed power and establishment. But, that’s the thing...it was merely a facade. Merely a speaking point. Merely a piece of propaganda. It wasn’t truth. The only way an idea becomes truth is by withstanding the test and passage of a challenge.”

The Wizard paused, he turned, staring into the darkening sky. Rubbing his magical beard, he continued, “And that challenge would come. Along the outskirts of the Kingdom Hart, a traveler known simply as ‘Le Wizard’ approached the outskirts of Whiskey’s realm. He was in search of a home. He was in search of power. He was in search...of a challenge.”

Leaning forward, the LARPers were hungry for more...until…

---

TRANSMISSION INTERRUPTED

IMPORTANT MESSAGE FOR THE WIZARD

JOIN BOB

JOIN BOB

JOIN BOB

THAT IS ALL

TRANSMISSION RESUMES

---

“What are you doing back there?” I asked, eyeing a naked Wizard in the back of the van surrounded by a bunch of sex dolls.

“Not what you think. Changing out of these swamp clothes. Getting into my human attire.”

“You couldn’t wait until we got back? This looks kinda weird.”

“Well, not really. I hate to bring this up now but...I gotta take a shit.”

“WHAT?” The Wizard nodded, dressed in jean shorts and a white t-shirt which simply read “Shirt” across the chest. “You can’t wait the fifteen minutes until we get home?”

“Nope, this thing is about to go down. Not sure what triggered it, maybe the Taco Bell aroma. That shit is potent, you know. Regardless, ya best pull over.”

“Ugh,” disgusted and annoyed, I saw two options on the commercialized horizon. “Wal-Mart or Target?”

“Oh, Target. Most definitely.”

I took the requested turn. The back doors flew open before I came to a complete stop. The Wizard, gym bag over his shoulder, hustled into Target. Why he took the gym bag, I cannot tell you. Perhaps it was a force of habit. I hurried to shut the doors and lock the van. I didn’t exactly want to get spotted sitting alone, in a running, slightly demolished van, with a bunch of sex dolls.

---

The Wizard entered Target with all the hurry and aggression of a middle aged woman determined to spend more money than her husband allotted.

Fate shined down upon The Wizard that day, as the bathrooms were near the entrance. Hurriedly, he rushed through the doors and entered. An employee, about to exit, lightly cursed upon being spotted and turned around to wash his hands. The Wizard, flippantly, remarked while heading toward a stall, “Might wanna get out of here man, I’m about to drop a bomb!”

Widened eyes. The employee mouthed, “Oh Shit.” And exited, rushing to security.

30 MINUTES LATER – OUTSIDE THE TARGET

“Reporting live with the local news here at the local Target...there is a bomb threat, I repeat, there is a bomb threat. Thankfully, most of the shoppers and employees have been evacuated. I’m told the bomber is holed up in the bathroom. He refuses to come out. More on this story as it develops.”

Off air, the interviewer downed a sip of water. Edward Mof quietly approached, “Hey, what’s going on in there? What’s with all the police?”

“Haven’t you heard? There’s a bomb threat. Somebody is in there ‘about to drop a bomb’.”

Mof’s eyes widened. “No. NO. My Wizard. Not My Wizard!”

Rushing away, he hurried to his van to try and get in touch with his client. The dumbfounded reporter shrugged the encounter off.

---

The LARPers craved more of the fable. But, The Wizard held them off, “Give me a minute, everybody. Gonna take a quick break.”

Departing from the stump, he approached Mof. Sarcastically, Mof asked, “Please don’t ‘drop any bombs’ out here, okay?”

“Fuck you,” The Wizard replied. “Any word from Bourbon?”

“Ah, you know...same ole, same ole.”

“That fuckin guy. He and his whole group. I’ve seen this act before. Use comedy as a shield. A shield to deflect any and every form of criticism that is hurled their way. It’s a defense mechanism. A trick that was way more effective years ago. Today, it’s as transparent as edible underwear.”

“Well, to be fair, some edible underwear aren’t transparent. As a matter of fact, most edible underwear I’ve enjoyed haven’t been transparent. They’ve pretty much resembled fruit roll ups.”

“Whatever, Ed. That’s not the point. The point is I see right through his little act. You see how much he upped his game from his first address to his second? He CLEARLY thought I was going to remain in hiding for this match. He took it about as lightly as I took that comment inside the Target bathroom. We all know how that turned out.”

Mof shook his head, wincing, “Yes, we do.”

“And now he’s playing from behind. The champion chasing the challenger. He sits there resting his adversarial laurels on the fact that I lost to Robert Main and came away from the match too broken to compete. Well, he’s fuckin wrong. Hurt? Sure. Fractured? Maybe. But pretty fucking far from broken, as evidenced by the fact that I’m here, now, calling him out on his nature.”

“Hey, the R word, c’mon man.”

“Sorry, but I’m a little hot under the collar. It just goes to show, Ed. Win 10 matches in a row and they’ll call you an exciting up and comer. Lose one match to an established main eventer and suddenly you’re a failure. Well, fuck that narrative. I’ve fought too hard and come too far to waste away what is likely my final opportunity to make something of a career. As far as I can tell the Hart Championship is every bit as prestigious as the X-Treme Championship. Robbie Bourbon, while no Robert, is more formidable than most in XWF. This is the closest I’ll come to an in-ring mulligan and you can bet your ass I’m gonna stripe this bitch right down the middle of the fairway.”

“Yea, unless BoB gets involved and knocks that drive down like a masterfully planted tree branch.”

“Please. These guys want me in their group. Haven’t you seen the begging and the pleading?”

“To be fair, I think that message went out to everyone.”

“Nope. I saw...it was specifically addressed to me.” Mof disagreed but let it go. “But, even if they get involved, I don’t care. Nothing can be worse than what I went through with Main. I failed conclusively against that man. He straight up beat the shit out of me. But that’s okay. Because I’ve learned through my failure. I’ve learned that there isn’t anything anybody can throw at me that is nastier than the fire Robert Main tossed my way. If I can survive that, I can survive anything.”

“Wizard! Wizard!” chanted the LARPers.

“They are getting restless.”

“I can relate. I’ve been here too long to have accomplished so little, Ed. Morons like Charlie Nickles have passed me on the XWF Totem Pole of Importance. You can’t allow these opportunities to continue to slip away...if you do, eventually that well will dry up. I’m not broken. I’m not quitting. I’m not walking away. Quite the opposite. I’m winning. At Warfare, I’m going to do what I should have done at Super Relentless...I’m going to show up, rise up, and take my first XWF championship.”

“I’m liking what I’m hearing!” Mof gave The Wizard a pat on the back as he headed toward the hungry LARPers.

---

Bourbon. You’re good. You might even be great. But against me...at Warfare, you won’t be good enough. It sucks losing a title in your first defense but, hey, it happens. I’m sure, like me, you’ll bounce back.

And as for this stipulation. A mother fucking casket match. I relish the opportunity. I’ve been sequestered inside a dark room for too long. I’m ready for the light. There’s no way in hell you are entrapping me in that thing. That’s the last place I want to be.

I will shut the lid on you and your reign as Hart Champion come Warfare, Bourbon. And while you are inside that coffin...the only thing you’ll be able to smell will be that lone scent you will be forced to bask in – my fucking aura.