Tuesday, August 08, 2006

Stallone vs Polanski



Monday, August 07, 2006

Cobra Blood

“THE ORIGIN OF COBRA BLOOD.”

Since arriving in the United States of America to
pursue his formal education, there was little doubt
that Travis Carter would attempt to make his mark in
the world of film.

It all started years ago, growing up on the mean
streets of Manchester, where the slightly built Carter
had frequently gotten bullied, hassled and abused. The
only escape from the choke holds, chipped teeth and
brass knuckles, was within the comforting darkness of
the cinema.

Travis spent much of his youth sneaking into violent R
rated pictures featuring iron-jawed tough guys with
incredible grit, resolve and fortitude. These were men
who would not be pushed around, instead extracting a
violent and sometimes deadly revenge on any street
thug, deadbeat or common criminal who dared to so much
as shoot them a dirty look.

For ninety minutes at a time, Travis would live
vicariously through the aggressive and dangerous
characters protrayed by Stallone, Van Damme, Segal and
Schwarzenegger. These movies provided him with a few
blissful hours of escape, until the dream was
inevitably shattered, when he would exit the theater
and immediately receive yet another severe thrashing
by the local hooligans.

After a disastrous attempt at weight lifting in his
early teens, it became clear that Carter would not be
able to transform his physique into that of his heroes
and was forever doomed to be the guy who would have to
back down, look away, lower his shoulder and step
aside when challenged by his fellow man.

Although unable to mature physically, his imagination
had developed an almost preternatural strength from
years of mental escape during savage beatings. This
creativity inabled him to excel in both writing and
storytelling.

However, these visions were almost always crippled by
Carter’s unwavering obsession with inspiring future
generations, by centering the story around a burly man
with a foreign accent and large gun who would extract
his revenge by going on a bloody rampage.

In sharp contrast to his violent revenge tales, Travis
excelled as a nonfiction writer, churning out
thoughtful, humorous and moving essays on the
insecurities of his childhood, which proved both
effective and touching, eventually winning him a
prestigious scholarship that took him out of
Manchester and far across the sea to the mecca of
learning known as Georgia College.

When Carter arrived at Georgia, he quickly ran into
trouble with his advisors. Travis was not about to
take their advice and spend four years as a wussy
English major. Exacerbating this tension was the
simple fact that the action homages had little to no
appeal for almost anyone in Academia. Since there was
no trace of irony or innovation, only blind imitation
of B movies from the 80s, it presented a dilemma for
the Department. But because of his polite manners, raw
enthusiasm and charming persona, Carter was usually
allowed to slip by with a C, despite his many artistic
deficiencies.

In the first three years of Carter’s career, he
experimented with several different mediums to achieve
his vision.

Freshman year, Travis shocked his Introduction to Film
class by turning in a 25 minute claymation epic for
what was supposed to be a fairly simple three minute
directing exercise.

“Action Island” pitted clay replicas of Charles
Bronson, Vin Diesel, Clint Eastwood, Dolph Lundgren,
Sylvester Stallone, Jean Claude Van Damme, Steven
Segal, Arnold Schwarzenegger and Chuck Norris against
each other in a fight to death on an isolated tropical
island, after an insane billionaire decided the world
was only big enough for one action hero.

Carter went on to proclaim it as, “Perhaps the most
inspired piece of entertainment that has ever captured
the human imagination.” The tape would became
legendary in the department among the faculty, causing
hours and hours of laughter at Carter’s expense.

Department head, Bronson Roberts, called it, off the
record, “A sorry excuse for anything that should come
within 300 yards of an academic institution.” But
would admit that with the right guidance, Travis could
turn things around and become a promising student.
(Roberts was clearly less than amused several years
later when he was forced to take Carter back as his
advisee, since Travis had made virtually no
improvements whatsoever, in terms of both maturity or
film making ability).

Carter was subsequently forced to abandon the
claymation medium since the department required
students to attempt at least a few live action
projects.

Sophomore year, Travis followed up with two
live-action films starring the always charismatic,
although not especially skilled thespian Steve Farley.
Steve claimed his main influence was Robert De Niro
circa “Cape Fear” and “Goodfellas,” although Steve was
not especially sober for much of the shoot, something
that was not typical of De Niro’s acting methods.

Travis actually enjoyed using Steve, because unlike
many of the drama students, who Travis considered
pompous sissies who were afraid to get their hands
dirty, Steve was always willing to jump off a roof,
spit up blood or take a steel chair to the head.

The two most ambitious films that Steve and Travis
collaborated on were “Revenge of Robatular” and “The
Return of Rax Slater,” which respectively featured a
multitude of low budget car chases, bloody rampages,
catch phrases and revenge plots against the ever
present nemesis Murdock, who throughout the course of
the series, brutally murdered Slater’s wife and
viciously stabbed his eyes out before Robatular was
able to impale him on a meat hook.

After setting fire to a shed, barely escaping an arson
conviction, while sending Steve to the hospital for a
concussion, Carter was forced to turn to computer
animation, a medium in which he would face fewer
financial and physical obstacles in his quest to
accurately depict his vision of big-budget violence
and explosions.

What followed Junior year was a string of somewhat
crudely animated short films which paid tribute to Van
Damme and Steven Segal.

“Blood Lion” was a combination of “Blood Sport” and
“Lion Heart” with elements of “Kickboxer” thrown in
for extra flair.

“Blood Lion” told the saga of Kurt “Lyon” Dux who
returns from the Foreign Legion and witnesses as his
brother is maliciously paralyzed in the ring by
ruthless Thailand champion Tong Po. Dux naturally vows
revenge.

With the help of Zion Zerber, a legendary kickboxing
trainer who lives in a desolate and remote section of
Thailand, Kurt trains to enter the “kumite-sujumite,”
an illegal underground martial-arts competition where
he must fight for his life and the honor of his
family.

The next semester, Travis unleashed “Hard Siege,”
which combined “Hard to Kill” and “Under Siege” with
elements of “Marked for Death” to ensure proper
equilibrium.

“Hard Siege” tells the tale of Mason J. Ryback, a
renegade cop on the brink of retirement and sanity,
who is gunned down in cold blood by a Jamaican drug
kingpin known as Screwface. After waking up from a
coma, he must stop a gang of Iranian terrorists from
seizing control of a US Navy battleship, before
traveling to Jamaica for an all out war against
Screwface and his evil drug empire.

“Siege” did receive as warm a welcome as “Blood Lion,”
primarily because of its inability to make sense on
any level.

Going into his senior year, Carter was determined to
replicate what he considered to be the single greatest
action film of the modern era: Stallone’s 1986
masterpiece “Cobra,” with touches of “First Blood” to
maximize appeal.

All Summer he worked day and night, painstakingly
animating on his computer with the hopes of getting a
head start. Though his computer crashed on several
occasions, Travis never gave up hope.

So at the start of the most important year of Travis’
life, all that stood between him and film making
immortality was Dr. Crosby, who would have to be
convinced that “Cobra Blood” would be a better senior
thesis than whatever bizarre love story involving burn
victims and puppets that he would inevitably pitch to
him in a drug fueled haze. Whatever obstacles he
faced, Travis never lost faith that by the end of the
year, he would be able to entertain the masses.

The Life and Times of Steve Farley

LARGE BEERS AND DIRTY TACOS: THE LIFE AND TIMES OF
STEVE FARLEY.

I- It Feels Like the First Time.

Seven years before the Gallon Challenge, a young Steve
Farley, arrived at the College of Georgia. He was
wide-eyed, clean-shaven, well mannered, trim and
sober.

Steve began to have strange visions at night. He built
enormous replicas of kegs in his mashed potatoes.
Voices whispered to him late at night. Some sort of
cosmic force was pulling him slowly towards the Delta
House and he didn’t know why.

The moment when Steve finally stepped through the
doors of the frathouse, everyone on the premises could
tell they were experiencing a pivital moment in the
history of mankind.

When Steve tasted his first beer, there was a
transformation, like Bill Bixby morphing into the
Incredible Hulk. Beer gave him absolute confidence
and complete control. In the real world, he was a
deadbeat, inside the frathouse, he was a rock star.

Four hours after drinking as much beer as could, Steve
found himself drenched in alcohol, pounding a bottle
of Jack as 60 raucous frat guys chanted his name.

For the next 14 semesters, Steve ruled the Delta House
like no had since the late 1940s, by performing an
absolutely incredible routine.

He would arrive in a flowing silk robe with “Eye of
the Tiger” blaring from a 1986 Sony Boombox. He would
warm-up, upstairs in the room of JJ “Bull” Doozer’s
room by shootgunning a six pack of Sparks and downing
several large shots of Jagermeister.

The crowd would assemble downstairs and begin chanting
his name louder and louder. “Steve! Steve!! Steve!!!
Steve!!!!”

When they reached a peak in their intensity, Steve
would come into the middle of the circle that
contained, dozens, sometimes hundreds of people, who
had come from miles around to watch.

Steve would slap his head and began spastically
dancing. The masses would pass around a massive
pitcher or beerbong, filling it with Gin, Vodka,
Jager, Beer, Tequila, Bourbon or anything else on the
premises, sometimes oil or straight bleach. After
draining its contents, he would dance in the middle
calling for more and more until he could no longer
stand. Sometimes he would even put on a wig and
lipstick in his delirium, but no one really knew why.

Steve could push the limits of consumption and
intoxication like no one had since the prime of Bon
Scott. He would finish by standing in the circle
taking random bottles of Vodka, Beer or anything else
the crowd would hand him. No one in attendance would
fail to be impressed by Steve’s will, fortitude, heart
and endurance. It was clear they were watching an
artist at the absolute peak of his powers.

After Steve collapsed, he would regroup and drag
himself into a wheelchair, so he could drink even
more. He would peform the exact same routine in the
wheelchair, until he passed out again.

At this point, Delta brother, Doug “Milkman” Nelson,
would usually end up wheeling Steve around on a “Tour
of Victory,” in which he would journey through the
front lawn, the streets, the neighboring frat houses
and the Sonic parking lot, where Steve would make
inaudible advances on underage women, before finally
trekking back up the stairs of the Delta House, to
complete the “Halls of Medicine,” where Steve would
down even more Vodka as his fans on either side
cheered him on.

Steve would usually pass out for at least an hour.
Upon waking up, he would become extremely violent,
grabbing Computers, Mannequins, cats, TVs, even
toilets to shatter on the front porch of the house.

Steve would then go on stage and preach. His words
were incoherent and slurred, but his amazing charisma
and energy would captivate crowds until he passed out
for good, surrounded by a small mountain of filth.

Sometimes Travis or one of Steve’s fraternity brothers
would attempt to revive him, but it was of no use.
Once Steve crashed, whether on stage or outside, he
could not be revived for at least twelve hours without
the aid of freezing water or some sort of caustic
liquid.

Once Steve started performing in 98, there was no
turning back. The pressure was tremendous week in and
and week out to outdo himself from the weekend before.
Steve had a streak very much like Cal Ripkin,
performing the routine with broken limbs and various
illnesses, that would have made Lou Gehrig proud. The
events had been documented on many different websites
and publications. The rough footage of the parties was
the stuff of legend and had circulated all over the
lower South East.

II- Steve vs. The People Who Live in Huts.

Steve had a highly addictive personality. As well as
downing beers and making inaudible advances on high
school girls, it wasn’t long before the Fraternity’s
infatuation with Texas Hold ‘Em and The World Series
of Poker, resulted in weekly Thursday night
competitions. Over the past few years, he had easily
lost thousands of dollars.

Steve was literally one of the worst poker players on
campus. But because of his Granddad, Jeremiah “Stever”
Farley, who had actually been the Delta house player
of the year on three separate occasions back in the
late 1940s, he would never quit.

All too often, Steve would look on the far wall at his
Granddad's picture while he was playing, rub the watch
that Jeremiah had given him for luck and continue to
play on, with the hopes of winning his money back.

Because of his chronic gambling addiction, Steve would
never have enough money to pay dues, so for the past
four years, had not officially been a member of the
fraternity. But since Steve lost so much money on
Thursdays, there was an understanding that he would
always be welcome.

Because of the chronic debt, Steve had attempted a
number of scams over the years, mostly while the
Deltas were on their annual Co-Ed nude Skiing trips.
He had once gone as far as to hire a 400 pound
stripper named Suki, letting people pay 10 dollars a
head to feed her pieces of raw chicken. Steve made
close to 2,000 dollars, but Suki was so engorged from
her feedings, that she could no longer fit through the
door. This and the infamous “House of Pudding,” had
left the house in disaster and Steve in financial
ruin.

For the 2005 trip, Doozer was hospitalized from
falling off the roof. So, once again, despite his
infamous history of antics, the Deltas reluctantly put
Steve in charge.

Due to recent Poker setbacks, Steve needed to make
some money fast. One day while walking past the
international dorm, Steve had an idea that both would
earn him money and help him extract revenge on the
people he had harbored a deep hatred of since the
tender age of eleven.

Growing up, Steve caught the bus for Washington Booker
Middle School outside the “Heaven Stop Quickie Mart.”
The bus was always late, so Steve and his friends
would be forced to wait for extended periods of time
outside the convenience store.

The boys were a mischievous bunch, mooning cars,
popping tires and beating up mentally challenged
students. But never, had they dared to do anything
inside the walls of the Quickie Mart. Abdul ruled the
store with an iron fist. But Steve, always wanting to
be the center of attention, accepted a dare to
shoplift a case of the spicy beef jerky.

He was caught red-handed by Mr. Muhammad, who went
completely berserk. In Muhammad’s mind, nothing was
worse than a thief. Abdul screamed for nearly an hour
as young Steve sobbed in fear. Only the arrival of the
police prevented Abdul from severing Steve’s hand.
Steve would be haunted forever by the crazed look in
Abdul’s eye.

Not only was Steve banned from the store, but Abdul
posted a giant picture of Steve’s face in the Quickie
Mart window with the words “thief” scrawled across his
forehead. He even went as far as to mercilessly heckle
Steve when he waited at the bus-stop by calling out,
“Jerky Boy, Jerky Boy. There goes the Jerky Boy!”

The heckling was very effective and soon Steve was
known all over school by the demeaning nickname.
“Jerky Boy” was eventually written all over his books,
locker and “ThunderCat’s” Trapper Keeper.

As a result, Steve had developed a deep seeded
mistrust of all people from the Middle East, believing
they were a cruel race who, “Lived in Huts,” and only
came to American to work in convenience stores and
exploit it’s people by overcharging for candy and
flavored slurpees.

So when Steve walked past the Pakistani Center, the
memories came flooding back and he was convinced that
he now had the best idea of his illustrious collegiate
career.

The foreigners could barely speak English and had no
idea what they were doing. Steve easily made them
believe the twos and threes were the best cards, while
the Aces and face cards should never be played. Over a
four day period, Steve won the clothes off their backs
and made close to four thousand dollars.

The next week when the Deltas returned from the trip,
Steve had managed to line up yet another sucker so his
brothers could get a piece of the action.

Everyone was assured that it was a sure thing. Steve
explained that they would all be given money by rich,
hapless exchange students who could barely speak
English and couldn’t wait to hand over their clothes
and the rest of their possessions. All the guys showed
up with high expectations to take advantage of the
sucker, only they didn’t know that the “sucker” was
actually the three time Pakistani National Champion,
Habib Manjeet.

Over the course of the game, one by one, all the
Delta’s were forced to drop out of the game after
Habib cleaned them out. But Steve was determined to
take a stand and with the American flag in the
background and his brothers looking on, there was no
backing down. Eventually Steve lost the four thousand
dollars he had won, and went on to lose an additional
five and even Jeremiah’s prized watch.

Making matters even worse was the fact that House
President, Lance Osbourne, had blown all the money in
the house trust in a alcohol-fueled haze of anger.

With all the money gone, the annual House of
Strippers, the single biggest event on campus, would
have to be canceled. It was a travesty of epic
proportions and the blood was all over Steve’s hands.

III- A Man of Many Habits.

A-The Renaissance Club

Early in his twelfth semester, Steve received his 67th
alcohol ticket. Over the years, Steve had committed a
number of shocking and indecent acts while
intoxicated, including defecating on the Dean’s lawn,
singing “Don’t Stop Believing” over the campus PA and
putting all of The Kenarden dorm’s furniture on the
state highway.

Although the majority of these incidents were
isolated, there was one action that Steve would never
be able to stop. A common sight for almost any person
going to an 8 am class or a morning jog, was Steve
passed out on the front yard, still drunk, with any
number of clothes on. The campus Police would write up
a ticket and leave it in Steve’s pocket. Waking him up
sometimes took up to 45 minutes and after awhile, they
learned that it just wasn’t worth the effort.

Steve would eventually wake up, rub his head and be
disgusted with himself. He would be seized by an
incredible hunger and search for a piece of an old
bagel, pizza, or anything he could find on the ground
to tide himself over, even an old, rancid beer.

Steve was finally brought in front of the school
disciplinary Council. He was obligated to began a
permanent public service program for the duration of
his Collegiate tenure.

Council President Ed “O’Neill” Jones suggested some
sort of club built around the benefits of classical
appreciation, that would educate the student body
about the art, music and culture of man’s most
innovative and productive period: the Age of
Enlightenment.
Steve was required to organize and lead this so called
“Renaissance Club” once a week for at least an hour.

Steve put up some flyers, attracted three Dungeon and
Dragons obsessed, socially awkward freshman, complete
with outfits and complex 15th century personas. Each
week they would meet with Steve, who would arrive with
nothing except a hat, sword and beer, which he would
convince them was actually “mead.”

He would force his subjects to drink for the entire
hour, making occasional comments relating to DiVinci,
Donatello, Michael Angelo and any other figures whom
Steve could remember from watching “Teenage Mutant
Ninji Turtles.”

They would meet each week in the North Campus quad,
early on Friday morning. Steve would force them to
drink heavily, especially if anyone attempted to bring
up any topic of relevance besides the dues. Steve
would adjourn the meeting when all three of the
members could no longer remember where they were.

B-The Karaoke Hour.

Steve was even more feeble at singing than he was at
acting. During his five year stint in the Concert
Choir at Clearwater Middle, he was never granted a
solo and his occasional voice-cracking and chronic
ineptitude resulted in him being told to lip-synch
through all the major performances. Even this setback
could never truly quench his thirst for the majesty of
song.

In the halls of the Caledonia Lounge, with only
himself and a smattering of drunks, Steve would sing
his heart out. It was always very therapeutic and
soothing. He would try to reserve the trips for
moments of extreme joy or sorrow.

Although it was usually during the middle of the day
when the bar was sparsely attended, Steve liked to
perform incognito. Sometimes he would wear a cowboy
hat and boots to sing Hank Williams, gold chains and a
gat for Dre, or a leather coat and overzealous hair
for Poison.

He would sing Foreigner’s “I Want to Know What Love
Is,” after meeting a girl, “Everybody Hurts” when he
was sad and “Eye of Tiger” when he was excited. Steve
always insisted on changing the words, which would
never cease to annoy the owner.

C-DeNiro.

In addition to singing, Steve had cultivated a love of
acting during his childhood. Travis had recruited
Steve for several crude action films where he would
perform his own stunts. There was almost nothing that
Steve wasn’t willing to do. He would subject his body
to an absolute battery of abuse including jumping off
cars, riding bicycles into walls and sticking his head
in a bucket of goat’s blood.

In the years following his singing career, Steve had
been a marginally successful theater actor. Even
though he was reduced to playing supporting roles in
comedies and musicals, Steve always dreamed of being
the star in a more dramatic production, never
realizing the limits of his talent. According to
Steve, he was only one performance away from achieving
a Robert DeNiro-like level of excellence.

Steve was convinced that his big break had arrived in
the form of “Cry the Morning Flower.” He thought that
maybe the short video would impress Dr. Roberts, that
it would get into film festivals and that both the
public and filmaking community would finally discover
and appreciate his talents.

During filming, Steve was initially confused because
he had no idea what Travis was trying to achieve
artistically. Although the project was clearly a
disaster, Steve truly felt as though he had poured out
his soul for the camera because of the heart wrenching
scene where he was forced to cry after the loss of his
wife. Steve was finally able to tap into the dark
place inside himself, unfortunately Travis had left
the lens cap on. Despite these minor setbacks, Steve
truly believed the short would be his finest hour and
relentlessly questioned Travis about the project.

D-Barely Legal Porn.

In contrast to his singing and acting, Steve had some
far less respectable habits. In the rare instances
that Steve would manage to arrive back at the house
after an extended drinking session, he had developed
the habit of viewing some of the X-rated movies that
Fletch kept on his computer. One night, Steve stumbled
upon a movie of much darker content that he would
never be able to forget.

Raw, grainy footage of a Donkey show, just south of El
Paso, that not only would haunt Steve’s dreams
forever, but somehow changed him. Like they said in
the movie “8 MM,” you dance with the devil, the devil
don’t change, he changes you.

These images deeply disturbed Steve, yet proved to be
somehow addictive. His sense of morbid curiosity, much
like being unable to turn away from a car-wreck, would
repeatedly prevail. Steve began downloading more and
more of these extreme video clips. When Fletch put his
foot down, Steve’s only option was to use Travis’
iBook.

Travis would innocently leave his computer in the
living room and soon Steve started downloading
materials that he would erase in his stupor before he
went to bed. Travis would occasionally find bits and
pieces of clips which would lead to heated
confrontations.

Steve would always act oblivious when questioned and
deny everything. Travis just let it go, because up
until the “Cobra Blood” incident, there had never been
too much of a problem. Steve didn’t like to lie, but
his insidious addiction to dog porn, was just
something that even he was too ashamed to discuss.

IV- The End Game.

Down thousands of dollars, and having lost his
Grandfather’s prized watch to Habib, Steve had little
choice except to help out Travis in any way he could
after he came up with the idea for the Challenge.
Steve pledged his full and undivided help, promising
to do anything he could.

Steve was initially so excited that he spent much of
the prep time singing Survivor songs at The Caledonia
Lounge instead of helping Fletch, Walker, Adam, John
and Travis hand out flyers to attract competitors and
an audience.

The week before the Challenge, Steve had completely
lost focus. He assumed the competition was the
following month and had neglected to come up with even
the most basic strategy.

Steve had not really consumed any milk in years and
was unable to hang with even the competitors of much
smaller stature such as Pat, Christie or Lucy. He
assumed that his stomach was tough from years of
funneling everything from Arabian Goat Urine, to
unfiltered diesel fuel. But milk was a completely
foreign substance.

Steve wasted nearly all of the contest making White
Russians and drinking beer, at one point guaranteeing
intoxication to Dr. Nick. His only moment of
productivity would be a crowd-pleasing regurgitation,
that was mainly notable for how dark it was, prompting
some to compare the shade to that of a Burrito.

Going into the premiere, Steve’s work ethic had not
improved. They had a movie that had an outside shot of
turning into a cultural phenomenon. And better still,
all of the profits from the challenge would go towards
buying Steve’s watch back. But Steve did not make any
kind of effort to sell tickets. With a mediocre
turnout, Steve could only hope, as he had for most of
his life, that someone or something would bail him
out.

POSTSCRIPT.

Travis once asked Steve what his Philosophy on life
was. After a brief hesitation he replied, “I don't
know where I am most of the time, I don't always make
the best decisions and I'm not even sober... ever. But
am I going to do my best? Yes. Am I going to take
advantage of the situation? Sure. As long as there is
no real work or commitment involved, I'm there and I
will give 100%. Above all else, no matter what
happens, if I can manage to have a beer in my hand, I
know that things things can still get worse.”

The Adam Roberts Story

FAILURE, OBSESSION AND REDEMPTION: THE ADAM ROBERTS
STORY.

I-The Morning of Truth.

Adam gazed into the mirror as beads of sweat dripped
slowly off his forehead. He knew his entire life had
come down to what was going to take place in just
thirteen hours, seven minutes and 23 seconds. The eyes
that looked back at him were one of a desperate man,
one who would do anything.

Adam tried to control his breathing, though his heart
was almost out of control. He had just finished an
hour of spirited tai-chi and movement exercises. Adam
noticed the alarm clock read 2:03 in the morning, as
he set it for 5:04 am.

There was almost no use in trying to sleep. He had
been waiting for this game for what seemed like years.
A win would give him the thing he craved the most in
this life: redemption. In only a few short hours, the
smothering feeling of failure that had haunted him all
his life would finally be erased.

Adam tossed and turned for most of the night. No
sooner than he had fallen asleep, he found himself in
the deep clutches of a frightenly realistic nightmare.
Adam, wearing his headband and cleats, spasmed and
moaned, as his sweaty, white hands clutched his
frisbee tighter and tighter.

Shortly after five, as the guitar cords of Survivor’s
“Eye of The Tiger” began to echo throughout his room,
Adam smashed the alarm with his bare fist and leaped
out of bed screaming to the heavens, with his hands
raised. It was go time.

Adam ran to the fridge and cracked seven raw eggs into
a large glass. Ten minutes later he was racing down
the streets of Athens toward the intramural fields,
reinforcing his morale by repeating inspirational
quotes and phrases to himself over and over again.

Armed with only a backpack full of nutritional
supplements, pills, various energy bars and a frisbee,
Adam had a detailed schedule of exercises and
calisthenics planned out until the game at 3 o’clock,
the game which he knew, deep down would change
everything...

II-A Father’s Lesson.

Adam Eugene Roberts was born a small, sickly child.
Almost a month and half premature, his parents were
told that he would struggle to live a normal life.

Growing up, there always seemed to be a conflict
between Adam’s Father James and his Mother Grace. On
one hand Grace was always there for Adam, picking him
up when he would fall, wiping his nose when it got
dirty and comforting him every time he would whimper.

But Adam’s Father could see where this was heading and
had to make a decision about what kind of future he
wanted for his son: a sickly, feeble momma’s boy who
wasn’t allowed to go outside for fear of catching a
cold. Pale, shaking and pathetic- or a powerful,
resolute, young man who would claw his way out of the
darkness, inch by inch, and build himself up, into a
barrel chested adventurer. Robust, determined and
strong.

His son was at a crossroads and it was up to him to
take matters into his own hands, because he knew, that
although young Adam was born with undersized lungs and
kidneys, he had a massive heart. James, alone
understood what needed to be done.

When Grace would go out on errands, James began to
secretly train Adam. Armed with only two tiny, metal
braces, Adam would haul himself around the house until
he could barely move from exhaustion. But it wasn’t
enough.

Adam was barely four years old and his health was
steadily declining. James knew Adam needed to be
taught a lesson that he would never, ever forget, or
else he would die.

James put Adam in the car and drove him deep into the
forest.

He carried Adam miles into the woods and sat him down
on the ground with his two tiny, metal braces.

“Son, you know I love you more than anything else in
the world. But there comes a time when we have to make
choices. We have to do, what’s right, even if it
hurts, because in the end, it will make things
better. I had to make that choice when I brought you
here. And now you have to make a choice.”

James took a deep breath

“I’ll be back at the car. If you can’t get there by
the end of the day, I’m going to leave you in these
woods to die.”

Adam was scared and started to cry, “Daddy no. Help
me.”

“Son, please. If you love me, you will make it to the
car. This life is not easy. You will try to do things
and you will fail, but you’ve got to get back up and
keep going -or else you will be left alone in the
dark.”

Walking away from Adam was the hardest thing James had
ever done.

Almost 11 hours later, a sweaty Adam came struggling
though the brush, bloody and covered in mud. As soon
as he saw his father he collapsed in complete
exhaustion. James hugged his son and cried tears of
happiness and relief.

Some would say what James Roberts did was wrong, but
he was certain of one thing: life for his son would
always be an uphill battle. Adam had to know that it
was ok to fail when attempting something great, that
the only real failure was giving up.

In the end, all the training and struggling that Adam
would face throughout his life, would never be as hard
as those two miles in the dark...

III: The Need for Redemption.

There was one other incident in his childhood, that
would haunt Adam for years afterwards.

It was the last day of gym class in 3rd grade, May
15th 1992. Jed Bunner, the balding, overly aggressive
gym teacher, had decided to organize a two on two
basketball tournament.

It was common knowledge that Bunner had essentially
gone crazy thirteen years ago after the football team
lost a state championship because of a botched extra
point. The next year he was banned from varsity
football competition after he dropped his pants and
began crawling around the field in an attempt to
motivate his players.

Ever since then, he entertained himself by designing
elaborate competitions and tournaments within the gym
class while keeping meticulously detailed stats.
Bunner would spend hours and hours painstakingly
researching and ranking every player, in every
position, in every sport.

Bunner decided he would offer a number of lucrative
prizes to the winners, in order to whip the children
into a competitive frenzy.

These prizes included a football signed by Bernie
Kosar, a set of Transformers, a Micro machine, a
basketball autographed by Kurt Rambis, a Color Me Badd
cassette, a Walkman, a Laserdisc of The Vanilla Ice
film, “Cool As Ice” and a Pogo ball.

As Bunner unveiled the prizes, the class began
screaming and cheering. An aura of madness slowly
begin to spread amongst the boys as they salivated
over the incredible prizes.

The only question would be how the teams were divided.

Coach Bunner had spent the past two days working out
an elaborate teaming system, based on the previous
week’s scrimmages, in which the best athlete would be
paired with the worst, while the second worst would be
paired with the second best and the third best with
the third worst. etc. etc.

Since Adam was dead last in basketball, (as he was in
every sport except for badminton, (in which he was
38th because of Tom “Sticky Fingers” Jackson, who had
broke both his arms when he slipped off the
bleachers), he was paired with “Mean” Tom Jacker,
perhaps the most dominant athlete in Carver Middle
School Gym class history.

The problem was, Jacker wasn’t good because he was
particularly skilled, he was good because he was big.
He had been held back four times. Tom was fifty pounds
heavier and six inches taller than everyone else in
school. Tom was one of the dumbest, meanest kids you
could ever meet.

Tom had a routine each day. He would walk down the
hall and hold out his hand collecting lunch money from
no less than 15 of the school’s bigger nerds. The last
kid who had refused, Mark “Too Tall” Delaney, had
actually been forced to drink a cup and a half of his
own urine.

Tom took Adam aside, grabbed him by his shirt and
pushed him against the wall. Adam was slowly lifted up
higher and higher against the wall until his eyes were
locked directly into Tom’s intense stare.

“I want that Color Me Bad Album. Do you hear me
Roberts? If you screw this up, I will screw YOU up
-forever.”

The catchy hooks and lyrics, combined with the soft
vocal harmonies and smooth R & B rhythms of the newly
formed pop group, had caused Jacker to get a rather
crazy look in his eye.

It was everything Adam could do, not to lose control
of his bowels. He had been without his metal braces
for only a year and a half, but he hoped that with his
intense motivation and drive, winning would not be a
problem.

All day, Adam played with a lot of intensity, diving
for loose balls, screaming, throwing his frail body
around in order to crash the boards, but it was of no
use.

Tripping with the ball, double dribbling, falling
down, air balls, inability to play defense, seizures,
hyperventilating -it all happened. Not even the
fanatical bullying and death threats from the massive
Jacker could help overcome Adam’s incompetent play.

So comical were the skills of Adam, that a crowd of
spectators would gather every time he would compete.
Coach Bunner went as far as to say that Adam was the
worst athlete he had ever seen.

Meanwhile with every defeat, Tom was growing more and
more disgruntled. Adam’s fate was all but sealed.

Immediately after class, Jacker put Parker “Lewis”
Gavin, of the winning team, in a vice-like headlock,
until he agreed to give up the prized Color Me Badd
cassette.

As Jacker walked away with both the walkman and the
cassette tape, Adam thought that maybe he was in the
clear, but he was wrong.

All day Adam had watched the clock, counting the
minutes until summer vacation. He excused himself at
3:23, just seven short minutes until the bell and made
his way to the bathroom.

After zipping his pants, Adam turned away from the
urinal at the exact moment when Jacker appeared.

Adam tried to remain calm, but Tom didn’t look very
happy. “Hey there Tom. I saw you got that cassette
tape. That’s great.”

Tom began to slowly walk towards Adam. “I DID have
that cassette tape. That is, until I got busted by The
Bunner.”

Tom took out a switchblade and a pair of brass
knuckles.

“He sent me to principal Janny. Principal Janny
doesn’t like me too much.”

Adam started to walk backwards. When he tripped and
fell down, his hand landed in a pool of dirty water
underneath the urinal.

“You know this was the first year that I was actually
going to pass 3rd grade.”

Adam swallowed hard. “What happened Tom?”

“Janny just expelled me.”

Tom bent over and picked up Adam by the neck.

“Now, I’m going to expel YOU.”

You could hear muffled screaming outside in the
hallway.

The bell rang at 3:30. Doors all the way down the hall
exploded as children came running out, screaming with
happiness and throwing their hands up with joy. It was
at time of great celebration and mirth. Enemies were
hugging, girls and boys were kissing, grudges were
forgotten and debts forgiven. Books were burned,
teachers insulted, papers trampled and pencils broken.
There would not be a day of school for almost three
months.

It was truly a great day for every child.

Every child, except for one.

Most kids stopped and stared in horror, others just
laughed, a few cried and some didn’t notice.

Staggering down the hallway was a figure whose head
had been completely mummified in duct tape. His hands
were taped to his head. Other than a pair of socks, he
was completely nude.

The figure walked back and forth with increasing
speed. Pretty soon it began running, slamming into
walls and lockers.

All the students were too shocked to do anything.

The mummified, nude figure finally made it outside
into a parking lot full of horrified parents.

One of the bravest Fathers, grabbed him and begin to
slowly unwrap his head. An enormous crowd gathered
around the boy to see who the tragic figure was. Every
child was waiting to laugh, every parent was praying
to God it wasn’t theirs.

When the last of the tape was removed, Adam was able
to cover his genitals, but not his shame. “Penis” had
been written on his forehead.

It was with a quiet disgrace that Adam was helped into
his Mom’s car. It was the longest ride of his life.

Several years later, shortly before his 16th birthday,
Tom would be thrown in jail for sexually assaulting a
comatose 57 year old woman in a nursing home.

IV: The Rising.

One would have assumed that the events of Adam’s
childhood would make a person vow to never set foot
inside a gymnasium or sporting arena ever again.
Instead, it created an insatiable appetite for
redemption- a redemption that could only come through
victory against all odds.

Combined with a determination to never quit anything,
circumstances had combined to create an athlete, who
although extremely untalented, was without question,
the most motivated any coach had ever seen.

Over the years, Adam was repeatedly beaten in every
sport he attempted whether it was: tennis, baseball,
basketball, football, hockey, lacrosse, wrestling,
archery, arm-wrestling, bocee ball, bowling, cricket
or kickball.

Adam cost team after team dozens of victories and
experienced more humiliation and traumau than any man
should have to experience in a lifetime. But the abuse
only managed to strengthen his already iron resolve.

Each defeat would conjure up vivid memories of the day
in the forest and the lesson that quitting is the
worst thing a man could do. Adam figured if he had
ever started quitting, he would have been left for
dead in the woods -and he was not about to start now.

The overwhelming feeling of failure would haunt him
for years, but he knew, the only way the feeling could
ever be erased, was by winning and that quitting would
only seal his fate.

He began amazingly ambitious training regimens that
included memorizing chapters of Schwarzenegger’s
Encyclopedia of Bodybuilding, buying every kind of
supplement, pill, herb, balm, powder and cream out of
sports catalogues and GNC, purchasing
hand-strengthener, bizarre ab and back machines,
nordic tracks, doing endless push-ups, sit-ups,
viewing inspirational sports films and athletic
infomercials, while having absolutely no interest in
regular pursuits: like cartoons, comic books, parties,
women, beer, television, books or ice cream.

Adam found that his drive and motivation could not be
equaled, therefore sports that required relatively
large volumes of training with almost no emphasis on
physical talent or coordination such as running or
swimming were ideal.

Adam was quickly becoming a very serious, intense
young man with very limited interests. But, little by
little, his physical health became better and better,
eventually resembling that of an average person, then
above average, then stronger and still stronger.

Adam was actually becoming marginally successful in
his pursuits, but was never able to achieve the kind
of definitive victory for which he could claim
redemption.

It was generally agreed upon by every one of his
coaches, that if Adam had had even a small amount of
actual talent, he probably could have been an Olympic
Champion.

V- Adam meets the Knausser.

The years of training finally paid off.

Adam became good enough to swim on the Division III,
Georgia College Aquatic Devil Ray swim team.

It was there that his life would intersect with that
of the man that Adam would grow to both love and hate:
“The Knausser.”

At six foot, two hundred ten pounds of rock hard
muscle and power, The Knausser had always been a
natural athlete and stunning physical specimen.

A notorious hellraiser, his violent temper had
actually gotten him thrown out of a number of private
schools.

Three years ago, he had gotten himself kicked off the
football team for ripping a player’s helmet off and
beating him unconscious.

The first time Adam laid eyes upon Richard Coker
Knauss, it was as if he saw a vision of everything he
had ever wanted to become.
Adam, began to affectionately refer to Richard as “The
Knausser,” sometimes “Dick Cock,” and wanted to spend
all his spare time with him.

In general, Adam had a very odd relationship with
Knauss. It was almost as if Adam had a crush on the
man, the way he would have done anything for him and
thought about him all the time when they weren’t
together.

Knauss put up with Adam, like one would a younger
brother. Knauss had to admit he admired the kid’s
guts. When Adam would start to chastise him for
slacking off, Knauss would usually respond by twisting
his arm to the point of shattering or putting him in a
devastating headlock that would quickly render him
speechless, but would eventually feel guilty and give
Adam a comforting slap on the back.

With an athlete of the Knausser’s capabilities, the
somewhat limited Devil Rays became a perennial
national contender, at least in terms of the sprint
freestyles, battling Division III powerhouses like
Denison, Emory and John Hopkins.

Despite the prodigious talents of the Knausser, the
team remained always just out of reach of the dreaded
Lords of Kenyon College, the most dominant program in
NCAA history.

VI-The Legend of Kenyon,

The Kenyon College Lords had won an unprecedented 24
straight national titles, which is a record for any
sport on any level, in any division, in any country in
NCAA competition.

Every year, the Lords would travel to Athens to engage
in a fairly lopsided duel meet against the Georgia
College Aquatic Devil Rays.

The most memorable meet of Adam’s career occurred his
freshman year in 2002. The contest drew a rather
raucous assortment of drunken fans because it featured
a fraternity belly-flop contest, instead of the usual
diving between swimming events.

The 200 freestyle relay approached, which was
Georgia’s best shot of winning a race, thus avoiding a
sweep by the heavily favored Lords. The drunken crowd
was whipped into an absolute frenzy.

Although Knauss was one of the most talented Division
III swimmers of the last decade, he would always be
overshadowed by Ricardo Guerro Huanez.

At a freakish 6 foot 9 inches tall, Ricardo was the
former Spanish National Champion, who had allegedly
been lured to Kenyon with promises of diamonds, women
and financial security from the wealthy and prolific
network of Kenyon swimming alumni.

After a furious competition, with both teams shedding
copious amounts of blood, sweat and tears, the relay
would come down to the anchor leg, pitting Ricardo
against The Knausser.

As the two men stood on the blocks, Ricardo turned and
spit into the Knausser’s lane and proceeded to let
Knauss gain a small advantage, before diving in,
passing him and beating The Devil Rays by only 6 one
hundreds of a second.

Heated words were exchanged after the race. Legend has
it that Knauss’ mother was actually called, “a whoring
son of goat.” This exchange, nearly resulted in a
brawl, before the two were pulled apart.

Knauss made up his mind on that day, that he would get
his revenge on Ricardo by taking Georgia to nationals
and defeating Kenyon on the highest stage. Adam would
have given his right arm to be at Knausser’s side, but
had not been allowed to swim, because he was so far
down on the roster.

When Knausser declared his intentions, Adam knew they
were going to be united in a quest for glory, spending
all day together running, swimming, lifting, chopping
wood and stretching, while spending all night
exchanging their most intimate athletic stories, hopes
and dreams.

Adam would work his way up to the ‘A’ 400 freestyle
relay, he and the Knausser would win nationals and he
would finally discover the word he called redemption,
which would deliver him peace from every insecurity
and problem he had.

The first step to completing this journey would be
filling the huge void of athletic competitions during
the three months at the end of the year when swimming
was over.

They would stay sharp by competing in various games,
matches and sports on the intramural level. Adam had
plotted out a detailed schedule that managed to keep
them busy on every day except for two Thursdays in
mid-April.

Together they would form an intramural team and call
themselves “The Ultimate Champions” and dominate every
event.

VII: The Beta Empire.

All Adam’s dreams were shattered like a porcelain
toilet thrown off a fraternity porch, when the
hard-partying Knauss decided to pledge with the
mysterious force of darkness that was the Beta
fraternity, who would never consider letting a
small-boned man like Adam join.

The Betas were the guys who would make more
articulate, literate types cross the streets. They had
no use for nature except for raw consumption. The had
no use for women except for sexual objects. They had
no use for objects except destruction. Hell was their
champion. Pain was their game. They were very militant
and had a reputation for vandalizing property,
destroying lives, breaking balls and crushing anyone
who wasn’t just like them.

Their pledging assignments often involved setting a
rabid dog on fire, taking overweight girls on dates
and humiliating them in public or throwing Freshman in
empty pools with starving boars so the two would be
forced to battle to the death.

Adam once worked up the nerve to go into their house,
but was forced out within 30 minutes after people
continued to dump beers on his head, spit on his shoes
and laugh in his face.

But the Betas loved The Knausser and the two became
inseparable.

Shut out from The Knausser’s company, Adam did they
only thing he could: he assembled his own elite team
in order to take victory.

VIII: Intramural Domination.

So fanatical was Adam’s desire to win, that the
off-season became an even more grueling competitive
time than swim season, in which he would pull together
the motley crew of Travis, Fletch, Dr. Nick, Steve,
Walker and John, in an attempt to defeat the awesome
power of the Betas and their “Strike Force” intramural
teams.

It was not uncommon for Fletch or Steve to come in
from a late night and find Adam fanatically jumping
rope, fasting or shaking on the floor from a near
lethal dosage of pills and powders.

Adam’s diet was rumored to be very, very extreme in
its high percentage of vitamins, minerals and
chemicals. Adam used to claim that his neon green
feces was simply the price of glory.

This glory would be hard to come by, as no one on
“Team Wes Mantooth,” especially Steve, seemed to care
about the games whatsoever.

Walker and Fletch had respectable amounts of athletic
talent, but Walker’s moods would range from apathy to
blind rage, neither which was very helpful and Fletch
would be constantly distracted by whatever females
came within 200 yards of the game.

Steve was always devastated on Saturday mornings for
obvious reasons while Travis and John had little to no
athletic talent at all.

The epic first match between Knausser with his legions
of bloodthirsty Betas and Adam with his hastily
assembled Team Wes Mantooth squad, would not be
pretty.

As would happen so many times in the future, The Betas
would rule in ruthless and often brutal fashion.

Busted knees, bruised ribs, cracked teeth, wedgies,
broken toes, severed appendages- there was no limit to
their cruelty. The Knausser played like a man
possessed, showing no hesitation before trampling over
Adam on several occasions, one time going so far as to
put him in in the figure-four leglock and repeatedly
assault his testicles with a rusty pipe.

To further torment Adam, The Betas would deliberately
sandbag most of the game, letting Team Wes Mantooth
get within one point of winning and then crush them on
the final point. Knauss knew this would result in
hundreds of hours of training and anguish.

Instead of the traditional post game handshake, the
Betas systematically rubbed Team Wes Mantooth’s faces
in the dirt, taking extra delight in grinding mud into
the eyes of Travis Carter.

Adam’s prized frisbee had at some point during the
game been defaced and now read “You Are Gay and like
to suck balls.”

From that day on, Knauss went from a teammate to an
adversary. Now there were two ways in which Adam could
redeem himself: defeating The Kenyon Lords and
defeating The Beta Strike Force.

IX- Shattered Dreams.

By Senior year, Adam had converted his room into a
virtual shrine, dedicated to the glories of the Beta
Strike Force and the Kenyon swim team, by plastering
newspaper, magazine and internet articles from wall to
wall, ceiling to ceiling and floor to floor, featuring
every intramural event, race or contest that the two
teams won, in order to ensure proper focus and
motivation.

During the season, the obsession with the swim team,
would lead Adam to shave his head and paint his face
red in a ritualistic fashion, traveling to nationals
each year as a spectator.

The Aquatic Devil Ray’s would battle the Kenyon Lords
in the finals of the 400 free relay. When Knausser
would dive in for the anchor leg, battling neck and
neck with Ricardo and the hated Kenyon Lords, Adam’s
face would resemble the color of a fire truck, his
eyes wide as the sun, screaming as if he was watching
his parents getting slaughtered.

But each year, Adam would witness the Devil Ray’s
defeat in increasingly devastating fashion, which
would cause Adam to fall to the ground and punch the
floor in misery until his hands were swollen and
bloody.

After losses, he would often console himself by baking
brownies, eating them on the swing, wearing nothing
but boxers.

Three years went by, all resulting in narrow Kenyon
victories. It seemed that whatever the Aquatic Devil
Rays did, Kenyon could do slightly better.

Senior year, after a lifetime of dedicated training,
Adam was finally able to earn a spot on the A relay
after “Slim” Jim Russo, was kicked off the team for
sleeping with the Coach’s 16 year old daughter.

Along with freshman sensations Ben Parker and Steve
Dalchuck, Georgia College went straight to the top of
the Division III nationals in the sprint relays. But
as had happened for so many years before, they would
come up a tenth of a second short against their
arch-nemesis Kenyon, with Ricardo looking especially
smug.

Knausser, Ben and Steve were admittedly upset after
the loss, however Adam began sobbing uncontrollably,
wailing as snot began to flow freely from his nose.

Several hours later as Adam continued trying to hug
Knausser, screaming, “I’m sorry. I love you. I’m
sorry!” Knauss grew tired of Adam’s whining and beat
the crap out of him outside the hotel.

The first few weeks after nationals, Adam did not
leave his room. He would urinate in jars and watch
footage of the race over and over, stroking his
mangled beard with his grotesque talons.

Slowly he realized that now his only chance for
redemption, lay in the intramural games.

X: The Final Countdown.

Intramural Ping pong, Jenga, Kickball, Dodgeball,
Baseball Stickball, Ball-ball, Beer pong, Hopscotch,
Uno, Four-square, Badminton- The Betas were able to
dominate Team Mantooth in every event.

Late in the year, Adam was stuffing his face in order
to reach his ideal weight of 163 pounds for the
official Bocee Ball competition.

Because it was Thursday, Adam was eating what he liked
to call his patented “meat salad.” A meat salad would
consist of nearly every type of meat in the cafeteria,
including nuggets, ham, chicken, beef and cold cuts,
tossed with cheese, eggs, Italian dressing and
ground-up Creatin.

While reaching for his “Franco” protein shake, Adam
was presented with an un-expectant additional
competitive outlet, when Knauss hit him in the back of
the head and began mocking his efforts. Adam stood up
and immediately challenged him to a competition.

Although Knausser had much better things to do than
engage in eating contests with Adam, he could never
back down from a challenge, especially one from such a
feeble physical specimen. The simple act of beating
others and inflicting pain continued to give The
Knausser great pleasure.

The two consumed nearly everything from hot-dogs to
bowels of jello, baked beans to waffles, and creamed
corn to fried okra- all of which led up to Adam’s high
profile defeat in the infamous chicken nugget eating
contest.

As if things weren’t bad enough, two days later, as
they had done so many times before, The Betas would
defeat Team Mantooth on the very last point of the
game in the intramural Ultimate Frisbee championship
game.

Every fight, competition, race and challenge
throughout Adam’s life had ended in defeat. Every
challenge except for one.

It soon became evident, that The Gallon Challenge
would be his absolute last chance at redemption.

As always, there was no training too intense, no
mountain too large, no ocean too wide, no stone too
hard, no kitchen too hot and no dream too large for
Adam’s heart to conquer, because deep down, the little
boy with the two, tiny metal braces, would never stop
fighting his way out of the darkness.

Tales of a Misguided Sexual Conquistador

FLETCH PETERSON THE IV: TALES OF A MISGUIDED SEXUAL
CONQUISTADOR.

Forward by Travis Carter

Anyone who has asked Fletch the number of women he has
seduced will usually be quite surprised when he claims
that the number would make both Gene Simmons and Wilt
Chamberlain green with envy. “Take every grain of
sand, every star in the sky and multiply that number
by the population of China and you might have a pretty
good idea.”

Fletch has also been known to claim that his erect
penis can achieve the girth of whatever species of
snake is in the Jon Voight movie “Anaconda.”

Fletch will often wear a cucumber in his pants,
claiming that a man is at his most attractive when the
male member is fully engorged with blood. The cucumber
enables women to see just what they are getting, when
they request the services of the love-sex machine.

Without the crucial presence of the vegetable,
attempting to maintain his erection in public would be
extremely difficult, and more importantly, after
several hours of showmanship, his Jack Johnson would
be too fatigued to perform such impressive and
demanding moves such as “The Flying Taco Shredder”,
“The Pulsating Vagina Masher” or “The Chuck Norris
Bingo.”

Arguably worse than the cucumber, is the women’s
underwear that Fletch insists on wearing underneath
his boxer briefs. Fletch claims that the panties are
necessary because he is seducing so many girls at
once, there is always the chance that his room will be
strewn with silk panties. At some point, a player is
going to get careless and a woman will find the
underwear. The only way around this is wearing the
underwear yourself, so as a last resort, you can claim
that you secretly wear women’s thongs and simply have
to pull down your boxers to prove them wrong.

The more I think about it, no one has every actually
seen Fletch seduce a woman, nor have I even heard a
woman say anything remotely complementary about him.
Of the numerous women Fletch has claimed that he has
seduced, each and every one of them reacts with total
shock and dismay if his name is even mentioned. No one
will admit that they even so much as made out with Mr.
Peterson, let alone received the “African
Magina-Vader.” There are some of us who suspect that
he had not actually lost his virginity.

As well as being a virgin, I have also honestly
thought that Fletch was insane. He never fails to
amuse me with what I like to call “Fletch stories.”
These stories involve him demonstrating a highly
difficult sexual maneuver, using whatever he can find
in the room: a broom, a chair, a giant stuffed bear, a
small puppy or cactus. It doesn’t matter where we are,
or how many people are around.

No matter how ridiculous his claims, I’ve learned
better than to attempt to destroy his dream or
persona. Periodically after months of rejection and
denial, Fletch suffers very embarrassing, high-profile
breakdowns, during which he questions both his manhood
and identity. It’s always very awkward. We all are
forced to look the other way and never, ever speak of
it later on.

John Stratman and I have often wondered what kind of
childhood a person like this would have...

I-A Dream Deferred.

“Fletch, take me from behind again. Give me the
Algerian Whiplash!”

“Fletch I need, I mean seriously, I need the “Alabama
Manslide.”

“Please, the Bulgarian Face Mask. Give it to me.”

Three blond supermodels from Sweden, were covered with
the light sweat of passion, flushed and out of
breath, lying on the Giorgio Armani 5000 designer
water bed.

Even for Fletch or “The Fletcher” as he liked to refer
to himself, this was a little demanding. He had
climaxed four times in the last two hours and had
nearly exhausted his comprehensive arsenal of sexual
moves, techniques and strategies. But when you were in
the company of not one, not two, but three Swedish
Lingerie models, “no” was not a word that could be
thrown around lightly.

Fletch threw back the black satin sheets, wiped the
sweat from his brow and took a hard look at himself in
the mirror positioned directly above the bed. This was
a moment of truth and he looked deep inside himself.
He would not say no he decided, he would triumph!

But first, Fletch had to make a quick decision, he had
to decide if he wanted to break out the “Mongolian
Coldslaw” or the “Dirty Proctologist.” -Or a move that
he had been perfecting for the past 6 years, like a
self titled album that represented the pinnacle of an
artist’s career, that he simply referred to as “The
Fletcher.”

In a moment of inspiration, Fletch boldly set out to
simultaneously attempt all three moves at the same
time. He grabbed Vulasia by the hair and turned her
over. As he signaled Anastasia and Sapphire to stand
on their heads, he began something that no more than
two men in the world would even be able to
comprehend...

It was at this moment, as Fletch would vividly
remember for the rest of his life, that the single
most traumatic and lowest moment of his adolescence
began-

Dorothy Peterson, walked into his room without
warning, innocently holding a plate of cookies and
milk for her 13 year old son. As she turned on the
lights, a red-faced, bespectacled Fletch holding his
manhood in one hand and a lubricated roll of paper
towels in the other frantically pulled the covers over
himself...

Fletch could only stare at her in disbelief.

“Fletch, I baked you some cookies because you’re such
a good boy. Let me come over and pinch your cheek.”

Mrs. Peterson, amazingly could not see what was going
on.

Fletch was forced to act.

“MOM!!!”

It was as if the lights had finally been turned on in
Dorothy's mind. Suddenly it was all too clear, the
lubricants, the nudie magazines, the paper towels, the
pornography stacked next to the VCR. Maybe she should
have knocked.

Dorothy let out a bloodcurdling scream, threw the tray
straight into the air and covered her eyes. Young
Fletch was doused in a combination of milk, cookies
and shame.

Dorothy started to gather the cookies and wipe the
milk off Fletch’s leg, prompting Fletch to scream out
once again.

“MOM! PLEASE!”

Eugene Peterson, upon hearing the screams, ran
upstairs and could immediately tell what had happened
as he exchanged knowing glances with his son. He knew
all to well what the repercussion of this night would
be. He would be forced to pack up the comprehensive
collection of pornography which he had spent the last
twenty one years assembling and hiding from his naive
wife. It was the end of an era.

Eugene nodded to Fletch and pulled the flustered
Dorothy from the premisses. There had always been an
unspoken understanding between father and son. Neither
would talk about it, but they both knew. An unnatural
obsession for pornography ran in the family.

II-There goes My Hero, Ron Jeremy.

Fletch grew up in a moderately conservative household.
Eugene had little to no personality, while Dorothy had
strong religious convictions. Both were fairly
unattractive.

His Dad was a sloped-shouldered, bookish accountant,
who had little to no advice for him when it came to
social graces. Fletch inherited an unimpressive
physique and a face that only a blind mother could
love. He was not especially gifted in sports or
academics. The only natural talent he could claim was
an above average ability to articulate himself and a
willingness to risk embarrassment.

From years of repressed sexuality, an oppressively
dull job and dissatisfaction with his marriage, Eugene
Peterson had accumulated a massive stash of
pornography throughout the 1970s and 80s, that Fletch
had discovered at the tender age of nine and a half.

It is important to note, that this was no ordinary
stash of porn. It was the Louvre, the Smithsonian and
the Pompidou all rolled into one glorious collection.

Lesbians, Trannys, groups, midgets, dogs, horses,
ant-eaters... Fletch had literally seen it all. There
were things in that collection that would have made
Jenna Jameson red with embarrassment.

The first time young Fletch sat down and watched one
of these tapes, he was award of a rather funny feeling
in his crotchal regions, one that was very similar to
the one he felt while climbing the rope in gym class.

Fletch quickly discovered and then mastered the art of
self gratification. It wasn’t long before he was
spending nearly all of his time in the basement, under
the pretense of building tiny models of locomotive
trains.

These debaucherous marathon pornography sessions had
quite a negative effect on Fletch’s maturation process
in terms of interaction with girls his age.

Most boys his age were developing their skills,
talking, holding hands, exchanging small gifts,
kissing on the cheek and at the very least interacting
with their female classmates. But Fletch was not at
all interested in such pointless and unsatisfying
acts. He knew that girls in middle schools would not
be able to engage in the hardcore action that he was
now obsessed with.

He would make comments such as, “She’s going to be
able to take anal like a champ,” that would baffle and
confuse his more innocent classmates.

Fletch had always had a huge imagination that would
run wild at the sight of even a marginally attractive
woman. In his mind, he had seduced five times the
women that Peter North had. In these early stages of
his development, Fletch begin to see women more as
fantasy figures, than real people with whom he could
actually approach and have a conversation with.

Slowly but surely, Fletch was starting to decide that
real life was not such a great place to be. There was
laughing, awkward pauses, bad breath, food caught in
teeth and uncomfortable silences.

In the movies, the women had large lips and breasts,
long hair and deep throats. Best of all, they never,
ever, said no. And if they did say no, it meant yes.

Fletch would engage in sporadic attempts to speak with
women that would inevitably fail, thus sending him
back into the dingy basement for marathon sessions of
Lesbian strap-on action. He was starting to lose all
touch with reality.

Each attempt would prove more and more disastrous and
would take him more and more time to recover and
actually work up the nerve to talk to a girl.

Out of all the failures of Fletch’s early attempts at
womanizing, he would remember one day as the all time
worst. That one day would literally stunt his
emotional growth for years.

III-The Allison Haslam incident.

The Junior High school era Fletch, was a far cry from
the confident, fast-talking College era Fletch.

Back in 9th grade, because of the constant rejection,
Fletch was terrified of women. It would sometimes take
him hours to work up the nerve to talk to one. He
would sweat profusely, sometimes throwing up in his
mouth because of extreme nausea.

As noted earlier, in the movies, there was only the
time taken to tell the other person that you wanted to
engage in the physical act of love. But unlike John
Holmes, he lacked the confident “porn-stache”, the
hairy chest, the gold medallion, the glazed over
expression and most of all, the 14-inch cock.

Fletch also never really had a grasp on his
limitations. Rather than go after the midlevel girls,
or the slightly less attractive friends, he insisted
on hitting on the absolute hottest women in the class,
often those in the grades above him. It never occurred
to him to start low and work his way up. Besides, he
knew very little about these strange girls who were
not tall, blonde and gorgeous- they were not in any of
his videos and for all he knew, were not even capable
of engaging in the art of coitus.

On September 18th 1997, Fletch’s fellow nerdy friends
Ed “Ace” Frehley and Boogers “Tits” McGee, had
triple-dared Fletch to talk to Allison Haslam, the
most popular girl in school, after he speculated that
she was most likely clean-shaven in her most intimate
erogenous zones.

After much heckling, Fletch stood up, tucked in his
shirt, smoothed his hair and asked how he looked. The
appearance of the pudgy, zit-faced, bespectacled
Fletch, asking them to evaluate his appearance, before
he attempted to speak to the hottest girl in school
was simply too much. For Ace and Boogers, this only
resulted in uproarious laughter. This of course only
infuriated the hotheaded Fletch, who sternly snapped,
“We’ll see whose laughing when I’m getting anal in the
bathroom during gym class,” before storming off.

Fletch left the safe haven of the stoners, outcasts
and nerds, and walked slowly across the cafeteria into
the “A List” section, filled with the popular kids,
the basketball players, the girls with large breasts
and the rest of the beautiful people. Already Fletch
could feel the hateful gazes on his back. “What is he
doing here?”

But he had to stay strong. Before sex, there was
always a brief exchange of words. It didn’t really
matter what he said, so long as he said something.

When Allison noticed Fletch out of the corner of her
eye standing directly behind her, she could only hope
that he would leave. He was threatening to interrupt
her discussion with Whitney Forester, Amy Hilton,
Catherine Polister, Lauren Whitfeild and Katie Nicole,
about which varsity football player would be most
likely to cheat on their girlfriends with one of the
freshman.

Whitney was the only underclassmen allowed into the
discussion.
It had taken years to make it to the cool table and
for a girl with a reputation as spotless as hers, in
the vicious social circle of Richard Nixon High,
competition was tough.

Her biggest rival, Jessica VanSwandle had just given a
hand job to the basketball captain in the janitorial
closet. This week was absolutely pivotal to her social
status. It was literally hanging by a thread.

If there was anykind of a slip up, she would be asked
to leave and Jessica VanSwandle would quickly assume
her place. She had worked for years to get to this
point and now Fletch Peterson was about to ruin
everything.

She would forever be labeled the girl who nerdy
freshman boys approach. They would make cracks about
him talking to her for years. Why did he have to pick
her!?

She had to make an example of him. She had to do
something so cruel and malicious that it would cement
her position as the coolest underclassmen and give her
just enough momentum to crack the elite cliques of the
Senior class, that would give her opportunities to
sleep with Football players in the backseats of mini
vans. How she reacted right here, right now, would
literally determine her social destiny.

Fletch cleared his throat and actually interrupted
their conversation. He just couldn’t take a hint.

Almost all of the ‘A list’ area stopped what they were
doing. This was literally unheard of, what Fletch was
doing.

Fletch tapped her on the back and said, “Hey Allison.
Listen I’ve got a question for you. I’ve seen you
looking at me and wondered if you wanted to make this
happen?”

You could have heard a pin drop. Every girl looked at
Fletch in horror.

“Yeah, you and me. I want to do things for you.
Things, I know you’d like.”

Fletch made a dramatic pause.

“Sexual things.”

This was absolutely shocking. Some of the jocks
started to laugh, others were simply too shocked.

All eyes shifted off Fletch and onto Allison, waiting
for her reaction.

She stood up slowly, taking time to make her actions
as dramatic as possible.

First she threw her water in Fletch’s face.

But he wasn’t phased.

“You like it wet? I can do that.”

Fletch than asked the question that would become a
legendary catch phrase for years and years.

“You want me to do you on the table?”

Allison grabbed a plate of uneaten spaghetti, pulled
Fletch’s shirt back and dumped it inside. This started
to get the crowd going.

Miraculously, Fletch was still unphased.

“You like it dirty don’t you?”

Again the boys howled and snickered. He was making a
mockery of her, she had to take it up a notch.

Allison did the worst thing she could think of. She
reached into Sarah Craig’s purse, took out the
industrial strength Mace Pepper Spray and thoroughly
doused Fletch in the face...

The rest of lunch was spent gossiping and spreading
rumors over the muffled sounds of Fletch screaming,
crying and whimpering into his shirt. After awhile, it
was fairly easy to ignore and step over his spasming
body. Whitney had cemented her place at the table and
had no more use for him.

No one really took notice ten minutes later, when
Boogers and Ace led the devastated Fletch back to the
comforting confines of the science building or “The
Nerdery” as most referred to it.

IV- The Wisdom of Kyler Tyler.

Despite the lifelong memories of humiliation and
trauma, there would be some positive things to come
out of those incredible ashes of failure, that would
abstractly give rise the to persona of “The Sexual
Conquistador,” the larger than life character that
Fletch would continuously strive to become all the way
through his late 20s.

Obviously things had not been easy for Fletch in his
younger days. He had no real social skills and a
growing fear of real women. His attempts to pass notes
or talk to girls would only result in humiliation and
scorn. He had an enormous arsenal of sexual moves and
techniques, but no way to practice them or try them
out on an actual human being.

Fletch attempted to change things. He bought new
clothes, changed his hair, wore sunglasses at night,
developed a slimmer midsection and began wearing
contacts.

Basing his philosophies off porn stars and men such as
Gene Simmons and Wilt Chamberlin, men who had seduced
women by the hundreds, had not worked. He needed some
kind of a mentor in order to transform into the
machine of love he knew he was capable of becoming.

His teacher would have to have an incredible amount of
experience. He would also have to be willing to take a
freshman high schooler under his belt and show him the
proverbial ropes to victory.

There was one man and one man alone who fit this
description. A man who would hang out at the local
bowling alley/arcade, “Big Earl’s Bowling Emporium,”
and hit on the high school girls.

Kyler “Steven” Tyler. He stood at a solid five feet
eleven with an amazing mullet, a red leather jacket,
mustache, armbands, barbed wire tattoos and mirror
aviator shades.

It was 1997, Fletch was 14 years old, just entering
into ninth grade and Kyler was twenty-nine.

Kyler was a local legend. In the history of “Big
Earls” it was without question that Kyler had
essentially ruled the establishment for six years, an
unheard of streak.

He entered his prime in 1987 at age 17 when he
defeated “Mad” Max Herburlson, in the City Bowling
Finals by three pins, bowling a 234. That same night,
he set the high score in “Pole Position” and the Rocky
III pin ball game, lip-synched perfectly on top of a
table to Autograph’s “Turn up The Radio” as he pounded
a beer, sniffed cocaine off Alicia Crampler’s right
breast and got a hand job from not one, but two
freshman girls in the bathroom at midnight. It was the
stuff of legend.

That night began what was an unrivaled run of
dominance. He was a local legend, one that had
achieved carnal knowledge of hundreds of young, dirty
teenagers around town, usually on the premisses of Big
Earls.

By 1997, Kyler was reminiscent of an aging Jerry Rice
or Muhammad Ali. Surviving on reputation alone, to the
point that no one had the nerve to tell them to quit.
There was respect, but more and more there was simply
the stifling of laughter.

Kyler was never able to achieve anything in his life
outside of Big Earl’s. He had ventured off to College
and been just another guy. No one knew who he was,
guys were bigger, cooler, smarter, could drink more
and worst of all, no one gave two shits about bowling.
After a few weeks, he returned to the comforting
confines of “Ray’s Bowling Emporium,” to handshakes,
high fives, cheers and the adoring gaze of the senior
girls and had not left since.

He dropped out of school and started working for UPS
during the day, but at night, when he entered Ray’s,
he was still a legend.

Kyler managed to do fairly well for a long time, but
as he entered into his mid-20s, things were starting
to get a little bit more awkward. Kyler’s hair seemed
to be thinning ever so slightly, he was gaining a
little bit of weight, his face was getting puffy and
more and more, he had to remind people who he was.

Although Kyler was able to avoid going home alone some
of the time, more and more often, girls would snicker
when he went up to talk to them.

Before too long, he would have to leave Ray’s and
start hanging out with people his own age, something
he had been avoiding for years and would be a complete
joke. Kyler was unable to relate to people as old as
he was. Most of them had wifes and solid careers and
they certainly didn’t hang out the high school bowling
alley.

Even if it wasn’t quite the same at Ray’s, even if he
was a little too old, it was better than being on the
outside. Kyler figured he could milk Ray’s for at
least another two years.

When a young Fletch approached him, respectful and
eager to learn, Kyler was more than happy to pass on
all of his knowledge. He would have someone to teach,
he would have a protégé and all his secrets would live
on.

V: Walk This Way.

Obviously a man like Kyler was completely out of touch
with reality, living over ten years in the past. Many
of his techniques were only successful because of his
high status, legendary reputation and his ability to
procure alcohol and weed for the Sophomores. Nothing
Kyler taught could ever work for someone like Fletch.
But in the years they knew each other, neither Kyler
or Fletch had any doubt they knew what they were
doing. The techniques they practiced were guaranteed
to work.

First and foremost, when talking to another male, the
best way to describe anything, is in terms of sex.

When in doubt, demonstrate. Grab anything and
everything in the room to demonstrate a point: a
cactus, a vase, a bag of sand, a donut or miniature
model of a vagina would always work.

Confidence, confidence, confidence.

Women want sex. The sooner you acknowledge this, the
better. In the rare instance that they don’t know,
remind them until they remember.

The crotch needs to be as large as possible. A
cucumber covered in tinfoil, a tennis ball, a roll of
bread- any of these items will work to increase its
appearance.

A woman immediately looks at your crotchal areas to
decide if you are a worthy sexual partner. Groin size
is infinitely more important than physical build,
hygiene or least of all personality.

You have to talk a good game. Women want to be
controlled, they want to be impressed. There is no
absolutely no place for vulnerability.

Women are essentially prostitutes. Money has to be
spent in order to get the best. Girls who are more
attractive, know this and will hold out for the best.
Always shoot for the top and work your way back down.
If you have to, bite the bullet, pay for drinks, food
and flowers -it all adds up and will get you closer to
the ultimate goal.

A woman should be given only a few chances for
seduction. If she refuses, threaten to give her a bad
reputation. If she still refuses, tell the boys she
has syphilis.

There are certain moves that women can not resist: the
soul train, oil on the inner thighs,and the most sure
fire technique: a motel. Nothing gets a woman in the
mood like pulling into the parking lot of a Holiday
Inn.

Above all, if a woman does not respond, she is wrong.
You are not at fault. Simply move onto someone else,
but do not question your moves. Questioning and self
examination are not traits of champions. They’re what
losers do.

Under Kyler’s supervision at the alley, Fletch spent
nearly four years of high school, repeatedly getting
slapped after extremely short interactions with girls.
After all this time, Fletch had managed to make out
with two girls just before they passed out in a
janitorial closet. Kyler always was able to explain
things away, and Fletch never thought to question
Kyler’s techniques. After all, he had hooked up with
hundreds of girls on the premises.

There were a few women who were not offended, who were
simply amused by Fletch’s behavior, assuming it was a
joke. They would only laugh when he put the moves on
them. But with both types of girls, the results were
the same: no action for Fletch.

VI- The Ladies of Georgia College.

It was little wonder, that not only was Fletch a
virgin when he arrived at Georgia College, he had
barely gotten past second base. If anything, the
sexual frustration and failure caused his behavior to
became even more erratic and bizarre.

Fletch knew that women were attracted to confidence,
first and foremost. He was able to capture their
attention and take girls home from parties, who were
willing to fool around, but were unprepared for his
graphic sexual requests and would become offended and
storm out.

Even though it was very rare for girls to tolerate
Fletch for more than a few minutes and he was among
the most unsuccessful of his peers when it came to
women, he was relentless in the advice that he would
provide for everyone who crossed his path.

Travis and nearly all of Fletch’s friends had learned
years ago the difference between a real story and what
they began referring to as “Fletch stories.”

Fletch would also apply the same irrational ideas and
expectations to Travis, repeatedly assuming that any
girl who Travis had an interest in, had engaged in
anal sex, in the bathroom of whatever party had been
thrown that weekend.

Fletch would indulge himself with outrageous trips to
the country club in which he would shamelessly hit on
the older, wealthy women and heckle the stern,
conservative members. He would drink large amounts of
Scotch on his uncle, Rodney “King” Peterson’s tab,
once going as far as to take out his penis and parade
around the room, like he was riding an imaginary horse
shouting, “Who wants the ‘Bulgarian Lasso’ baby, who
wants it?”

Luckily Rodney was among the most influential and
wealthy members of the community and always managed to
smooth things over. Rodney had always felt sorry for
his perpetually lonely and over sexed nephew.

Then there was his torrid relationship with the
infamous Samantha Wilson who had even hooked up with
fellow challenge competitor Christy Edison.

Samantha was legendary for her promiscuity and good
looks. It was well known that during her freshman
year, she had slept with every member of the varsity
athletic teams except for the diving and cross country
squads.

However, the downside to this was she was mentally
unstable. She would shout out random lyrics from
Journey songs during sex, pilfer random objects from
her partner’s rooms and sometimes begin screaming with
uncontrollable rage and hatred at fire hydrants. Even
still, she was probably Fletch’s best chance at losing
his virginity.

Though she maintained a high volume of sexual
partners, she was very jealous and demanded monogamy
from each and every partner. In recent years her
erratic behavior was decreasing the number of men who
were interested in her.

She, unlike almost any of the other girls on campus,
was charmed and excited by Fletch’s raw sexual energy.
They begin seeing each other and Fletch was forced to
curb his random advances toward the other girls at
school.

Samantha followed him around, eventually making
appearances at the frisbee game and later at the
Gallon Challenge.

She delighted in bringing him just to the point of sex
and then stopping. Normally she would have taken great
pleasure in seducing someone like Fletch, but his
mouth was too much for even her to take. Never had she
encountered anyone so vulgar and his frustration and
anticipation proved to be incredibly entertaining and
provided more pleasure than a mere sexual encounter.
He obviously had no experience and she doubted he
could outperform some of the bartenders at Topper’s,
whom she was seeing on the side.

Despite Samantha’s games and his dwindling hopes of
losing his virginity, The Gallon Challenge would
represent a pivotal event in his life. The Challenge
would be an extremely high profile event that lots of
girls would see.

Fletch figured that if he won, the challenge would
ensure that he had free love for night upon pleasure
filled night.

If he faltered, the vomiting would disgust almost any
woman. None of the respected sex symbols he grew up
idolizing had ever used vomit as a way to attract and
pleasure women. All he could hope was that his cool
demeanor and peanut butter sandwiches would carry him
to victory. Only then could he transform himself into
a stallion of love, that he knew he could become-

Wrestling vs Science

THE BROTHERS STRATMAN: Vol. I: Wrestling vs. Science

Anyone who knew John and Walker Stratman, were shocked
whenever they found out that the two were not only
related, but brothers. Upon further reflection, it
seemed to make more sense. Why else would two men who
were complete opposites and didn’t get along at all,
spend so much time together?

Indeed, the brothers could not have been more
different. They seemed to possess a genuine hatred for
each other that was only growing as they got older.

Their main source of contention boiled down to their
fundamental difference in a guiding philosophy. Each
man held an unwavering belief that their system was
superior.

John hated the constant bickering and tried to be the
bigger person, but was inevitably drawn into a number
of ludicrous arguments, such as whether Rowdy Roddy
Piper contributed more to society than Charles Darwin,
whether Football was more valuable than Chemistry or
whether the loss of nuclear fusion or boobies would be
more damaging to mankind.

John believed the world was a rational place, where
all problems could be solved through the simple
application of logic and science. But he was plagued
by his brother, who always seemed to be one step away
from initiating a brawl or getting arrested. John
wished he had a more thoughtful brother who could help
him analyze the properties of nitrogen, or could rival
his ability to memorize periodic charts.

Walker resented the fact that John thought he was
superior. His face was almost always in a book and he
was always nagging him about something, be it the
library or learning. The world was a place that had to
be tackled through brute force and raw emotion, but he
was always held back by his brother, who was one step
away from getting mugged or lost, because he was
obsessed with pointless theories and impractical
ideas. Walker wished he had a cooler brother, one who
could properly spot him when he did reps of 195 on the
incline bench press, or could rival his ability to
shoot small animals with a BB gun.

As many differences as Walker and John had, they
provided each other with companionship and had a
surprisingly long history of collaborations dating
back to their childhood.

PART I- Walker becomes a Stratman.

John and Cynthia Stratman, were both highly rational
and logical College professors. They lived a quiet
life on the outskirts of a small, liberal-arts College
town.

All their lives they had planned to have twins at age
33. They had literally spent years researching every
possible variation, deviation or alteration of the
birthing process. Throughout the pregnancy, Cynthia
did yoga and John senior would message her ovaries for
hours. She took extra pains to eat an extremely
balanced diet featuring a variety of greens and rare
fruits. They would leave nothing to chance.

When the big night finally arrived, everything went
perfectly until Cynthia got to the lobby and was
dropped by the one of the sleep-deprived interns, as
they transferred her into a wheelchair.

This misstep probably caused the miscarriage that lost
one of the twins during the childbirth. Cynthia had
become so attached to the concept of having two
children, throughout the years of meticulous planning
and research, that John Sr. feared she would be too
bereaved to properly care for John Jr. So, he made the
decision to adopt.

In the heat of the moment, John was forced to made an
extremely intense and difficult choice. They could
wait, register with an agency, explore options and
make a thoughtful, educated decision in order to get a
healthy, intelligent child from a respectable
background or they could just take what they could
get, right then and there at the hospital. In a rare
legal loop hole, it so happened a baby boy named
Walker was available that night with no paperwork or
strings attached.

They were never sure who the parents were, although
John Sr. would later suspected they were something
along the lines of a janitor or demolition derby
driver and waffle house waitress or striper. They were
the kind of people who named their son in honor of
their favorite dog. But despite the tragedy, when
Cynthia Stratman sat there at night with two baby boys
in her arms, she felt blessed.

PART II: The Tag Team.

During the next eighteen years, the Stratman’s
patience would continued to be tested as Walker fit in
less and less with the rest of the family.

John Stratman Jr. was well behaved, clean and polite.
He bore an enormous resemblance to John Sr. It was
obvious that John was the favorite son, as Walker
struggled in school and continued to misbehave. Walker
had a horrible attitude and stuttering problem at a
very young age. He, never seemed to fit in with his
family, because he did not share the same interests as
his mild mannered and intellectual parents and
brother. Walker often suspected that he was adopted,
but the Stratman’s had promised themselves that it was
something they would never reveal to either son.

There was a predictable pattern in those early years:
John constructing a castle, Walker picking his nose,
John reading books, Walker urinating on the cat, John
winning first prize at a Science fair, Walker eating
play-doh, John building a radio from scratch, Walker
setting a possum on fire.

Though John excelled in certain areas, the combination
of horrible vision, incompetence in sporting events
and always raising his hand in class, made him a
target of the school-yard bullies at school.

Although he abused John physically on a regular basis,
Walker believed that he alone was allowed to pick on
John. If anyone else ever laid a finger on his brother
or any of his science books, Walker would go berserk.

While Walker had saved John from countless swirlies
and wedgies, John had prevented Walker from failing
countless tests, quizzes and projects.

As a result, each one was a shade underdeveloped and
to a degree, dependent on the other. Obviously, John
did most of the thinking, while Walker acted as the
muscle.

PART III: Anatomy K. Watson and the Berserkers.

At school, it was difficult for either to make
friends. Their poor social skills came about because
they had grown up in a relatively rural neighborhood.
John and Walker’s father preferred to have a lot of
land and space for his agricultural research and work.
As a result, John and Walker did not have the
experience of getting to play with other children in
the neighborhood. They pretty much only had each
other, their imagination and the 15 acres of land to
entertain themselves.

The games that Walker loved, were brutish, violent and
often resulted in John suffering an injury.

Among them were American Gladiators, in which Walker
would pretend to be his favorite gladiator Nitro and
abuse John in the joust. They would stand on top of
two, five-foot tall stumps, and battle, using large
branches wrapped in duct tape. The other game, “The
Eliminator,” involved Walker setting up a demanding
obstacle course around the house, featuring pits
filled with jello, ladders covered in Vaseline, snake
pits and bowling balls strapped to giant ropes.

His other signature game, “The Berserkers,” involved
him and John dressing up like Vikings, with meat
helmets, clubs and animal skins.

John would be designated as the peaceful islander,
while Walker would arrive from his Viking ship, worked
into a bloodthirsty frenzy and go berserk, attempting
to murder John so he could sack his village, pillage
the women and rape his fields.

Walker’s love for professional wrestling and the rise
of the backyard leagues on the internet, provided the
inspiration for the “Walker Wrestling Federation.”

They assembled a bare bones ring made out of
mattresses and rope in the backyard. With his old
Panasonic video camera, Walker was determined to put
together the most explosive and brutal match ever
captured on film. John was given the job of capturing
Walker’s pre-match interviews, which were intense
rants, sometimes lasting as long as half an hour.

Walker would paint his face and wrestle as “The
Lattimer” the steroid-fueled defensive lineman from
the popular 1993 sports film, The Program. John would
be forced to wear a black mask and suit, as the
villainous “Grappler.”

As the video camera sat on a tripod nearby. Walker
would chase John around the yard with a steel chair
and bat wrapped in barbed wire.

John’s games involved subjecting Walker to a barrage
of physical tests that would serve to educate John
about the capabilities of the human body and the laws
of gravity and physics.

In a game called “The Scientific World,” John would
pretend to be the handsome and dashing world-class
physicist, Anatomy K. Watson. Walker would be asked by
John to subject himself to a variety of tests which
John would record using a journal, compass, beaker,
protractor, thermometer and an assortment of other
tools.

Sometimes Walker would be forced eat various leaves
and fungi to see what would happen. In other
instances, John would prepare various pastes and balms
and apply them to Walker’s skin, in crude attempts to
boast his brothers mental capacity and cure his
stuttering.

John would act as Walker’s assistant later on as John
attempted to aid the growth of various plants and
trees.

Walker inevitably would lose his concentration, become
bored and ruin the experiment by trying to create some
sort of reaction or explosion when John left him
alone.

“Walker, these numbers are off. What happened? You did
something didn’t you?”

Walker was even convinced to jump off the roof,
testing various models of parachutes, resulting in the
occasional broken foot. John even went as far as to
make a high-powered potato gun, that Walker used to
for years to shoot birds.

Just before graduation, John made a rare attempt to be
cool, ordering a VHS copy of “Dance Party 5000” in
order to fit in with his peers. They constructed
lights and a stage. Walker helped with the building,
but would refuse to take part in any of the dancing.

The activities continued throughout college, most
recently John has been trying to convince Walker to
help him with a local cable access show geared towards
showing children “the magic of science.”

PART IV: John’s Jubilee of Science.

At Georgia, aside from the assembly of Walker and the
other guys from 340 Bloomfield, John lived a fairly
quiet and studious life.

On the verge of College graduation, he was finding
that he had less and less in common, with his brother
Walker as their lifestyles drifted further and further
apart. They had lived together for over twenty years,
but John was looking forward to a more peaceful life
on his own. Walker’s constant bickering and
mishandling of his Physics book, had driven him to the
point of actually submitting their DNA for testing and
prove once and for all that Walker was the adopted
son.

John hated the chaos of the world and found comfort in
the order of books. This and his desire to impress his
father, since the pressure of the family name and
future lay squarely on his shoulders, caused him to
spend the majority of his time at the Physics Library
in the pursuit of the coveted George Tautfest Memorial
Award for outstanding promise in high-energy physics
research. He was in a dead heat with Alex “Pencil
Neck” Higgins.

Through his tireless dedication to the discipline,
over the years, he had amassed a slew of awards and
honors: He was the President of the Phi Beta Deltas as
a recognition of achievements in international
education and exchange. He had earned the 2002 Thomas
H. Osgood undergraduate Physics Award given to the
year's "Outstanding Sophomore in Physics or
Astrophysics,” and the 2003 Bruce VerWest Award, given
to a Junior who has shown promise of future
excellence.

Even when he was not sharpening his mind in pursuit of
academic glory, he would enrich his spare time by
continuing to read the works of Steven Hawking, George
Gameau, Sigmund Freud, Isaac Newton, George Washington
Carver, Da Vinci and graduate professor Robert
Fraazee.

It had been a productive year for John as he had
fallen in love with a young Biology major named
Heather Niggles whom he met in the lab. She would
never fail to be impressed by John’s quiet charm and
wit, especially when he would offer to take her to the
lab late at night and show her his “beaker.”

He would occasionally take her out to the disco night
at the Annex late on Tuesday nights. It was there that
he would put to use his dancing moves that he had
spent years practicing back at home with Walker. John
desperately wanted to be cool and would wear his
prescription sunglasses and do the only move, he had
mastered: stepping slowly backwards and pulling his
arms back like he was rowing, while switching
directions every few steps. He was always a big hit,
as most of the dancers assumed he was a hipster going
for ironic comedy by playing some kind of an uber-nerd
character.

Besides these occasional outings with Heather, the
vast majority of his peers in the Physics department
were incredibly boring and dull people. As much as
Fletch, Steve, Walker, Adam and Travis could annoy
him, they were, at the very least, fascinating
characters who were true and loyal friends. They
helped ease the pain of when the library would close
on Friday nights, and he would be obligated to
participate in some sort of nonacademic activity.

Two or three times a week, John would call his good
mother Cynthia and reassure her that he was getting
things done and doing his best to keep Walker out of
jail.

Mrs. Stratman was very worried about Walker and wanted
to make sure that he stayed out of trouble: vandalism,
assault or worse.

For the past few months, police had been looking for
Walker, because car windows all over Athens were
smashed. John took matters into his own hands and
reached an arrangement with Tommy James Wrecker: for a
hundred dollars a semester, Walker could smash any car
he wanted.

PART VI: Learning to Smoke.

Walker had never had too much going for him with his
homely looks, learning disabilities and stuttering
problem. Numerous stuttering doctors were unable to
help Walker and his frustrations only grew. His
salvation would come from a very unlikely source.

As long as he could remember, he had enjoyed the
culture of professional wrestling. The men were larger
than life: they expressed themselves with their fists
and steel chairs, they could speak with force and
confidence and most of all, they never stuttered.

Walker was able to overcome his stuttering affliction
by watching hours and hours of professional wrestling
programming. He would memorize the masterful
interviews of federation superstars “The Nature Boy”
Ric Flair, “The Hardcore Legend” Terry Funk, “The
Million Dollar Man” Ted Dibiase, Brutis “The Barber”
Beefcake and Bret “The Hitman” Hart.

His most prized possession was an old VHS copy of
“Wrestlemania III,” that he got for Christmas when he
was four. He would watch this tape over and over,
especially the epic matches between Andre the Giant
and Hulk Hogan and Ricky Steamboat vs Randy Savage.
Over the years, when the world presented new problems
and challenges, Walker could always go back to the
tape, that seemed to soothe and comfort him.

Because of his past stuttering problems, Walker always
preferred isolation. He never felt like he fit in
around people he didn’t know very well. He seemed to
have chronic difficulties expressing himself and
relating to others.

There was always a frustration, if not anger, over not
understanding things that his brother could so easily
decipher.
As a result, he enjoyed activities that he could do by
himself, where he wasn’t bothered by other people and
the judgments of society: like carving wood, shooting
guns, shattering glass, watching wrestling, playing
football, rehearsing metal-guitar solos and spending
long hours in the weightroom, building his arms up
like his heroes the Rock and HHH.

Walker was a simple man who understood strength and
force and had a deep resentment for complex ideas,
thoughts, analogies and theories. Image, emotions and
feelings were what counted in this world.

Walker resented the disciplines of Science and Physics
for they were things that he could not understand.
Attempting to study these things made him feel stupid.
He simply lacked the capacity to comprehend.

Walker had tried to take up smoking when he was in
high school, to enhance his image along with his
aviators, wifebeater undershirt and muscular arms.
Unfortunately, he had an acute allergy towards smoke.
Walker liked the feel of the cigarettes and continued
to buy and use them, only without the smoking. Walker
was convinced that one day he would overcome his
allergy and be able to use the tobacco product like
other people.

Periodically he would light up and become incredibly
sick. But he would not give up. Nothing would enrage
him more than when John would tell him that he didn’t
actually smoke.

More and more, he looked forward to the time after
graduation when he would be far away from the
restrictive classrooms and books that he hated so
much. He would move out West and begin working with
his hands, building houses and constructing buildings.
Far away from Georgia, far away from the most horrific
incident of his life.

VII- Secrets.

A-Higgen’s Diner

After an especially brutal game against the Betas in
intramural racquetball, Walker was bruised, beaten and
filled with rage. He tore his room apart and in the
process proceeded to shred a number of John’s books.
John started whining and Walker was literally two
seconds from crippling him. He was forced to run out
into the night in a destructive rage. Walker went on a
rampage, smashing mailboxes, breaking windows and then
drove his dirt bike into the side of Frank’s Diner.
Walker’s leg was injured and as a result was he unable
to escape the police.

Frank “Beamer” Higgens, a tough ex-Marine, saved
Walker from facing criminal charges, but forced him to
work in the kitchen 2 nights a week for the next four
years.

In these intense sessions, Walker would clean dishes
and take out trash. There was never any down time,
because Frank was a relentless taskmaster. While
taking out the trash at the start of the shift, Walker
would often be overtaken by extreme bouts of rage and
depression.

A-The Death of Archie Griffin.

Late, late at night that same year, Walker was walking
home from an intense dishwashing session. He was
running late and in danger of missing the 1 am showing
of “Smackdown.” He took a shortcut through a deserted
field to try and save some time.

He was never able to fully remember what happened that
night, during a nearly 20 minute blackout, but he
would be haunted by the nightmares for years.

In the dream, Walker was deep in concentration
composing some ultra violent metal lyrics to try and
distract himself from the darkness. Out of the
shadows, he was approached by a deranged homeless man,
Archie “Griffin” Tanner. He had been addicted to meth
for several months and had severely burned himself in
a lab explosion a few weeks before, leaving him with
horrific burns over most of his face and arms.

He asked Walker for some money, some change, anything.
Walker was disgusted. He had been scrubbing dishes for
the last five hours. He didn’t appreciate this
drifter, this drain on society asking him for money.
Who was he to ask him for something? Walker kept
saying no, but Archie just wouldn’t let up. Archie
laid his mutilated hand on Walker’s arm. Walker could
feel the dirt and the pus and smell the urine and
rotting flesh. Something inside of him just snapped.

Even though Walker was a violent, outcast who enjoyed
shooting small animals with BB guns, breaking glass,
and terrorizing John with punishing headlocks, he had
never even punched someone in the face. There was a
boundary that Walker had never crossed.

Ever since arriving at Georgia, Walker had started
whittling, mainly as an activity to avoid doing
homework. But even when he wasn’t whittling, he
insisted in carrying his razor sharp switchblade knife
with him. Even though he had never used it, the
switchblade gave him a sense of power and security.

He could remember that the feelings of uncontrollable,
violent rage overtook him in waves, causing his mouth
to be filled with a strange, bitter flavor. All he
could see was red.
Walker swung around, whipped out the knife and slashed
Archie’s hand, nearly cutting it off. Archie let out a
bloodcurdling scream, which sent Walker into a savage
and maniacal frenzy.

Archie tried to run as the knife sunk into his flesh
again and again. Pieces of meat flew in every
direction. Blood actually ended up in Walker’s eyes
and ears. Long after his lifeless body had crumbled to
the ground, Walker had continued the thrashing. All
the hatred and frustration that Walker had ever felt
seemed to flow out of him at once. Euphoria washed
over him like nothing he had ever felt.

When Walker regained consciousness, his hands were
badly shaking and he was covered in blood. John was in
DC at a Stephen Hawking festival. Needing to dispose
of the body, Walker called the only one he could
trust: Travis Carter.

Walker would tell Travis that he had been walking
through the field, when he came upon Griffith’s
lifeless corpse. He was scared because of how dark it
was and inexplicably had the uncontrollable urge to
beat and stab the body. It wasn’t much of a story, but
was all he could come up with during the heat of the
moment.

Travis never believed him, but was actually too
scarred of Walker not to help him and never reported
the incident later on for fear of incarceration.

Over a period of three and a half hours, Travis helped
Walker dig a six foot hole, and went as far as to
extract the teeth, so they couldn’t identify dental
records. Even though Travis did almost none of the
work, it was really the only time that anyone had ever
been there for Walker and was a gesture he would never
forget. Travis had never mentioned it since, but he
knew if he was every in a jam, Walker would have to
help him.

B-Spring Break Disaster.

John’s life had always been pretty mild-mannered and
without incident. However, everyone has a breaking
point and John’s came during Spring Break 02.’

Everyone had gone down to Daytona Beach for Spring
Break Sophomore year. Winning the coveted Thomas H.
Osgood award had nearly broken him. John was so tired
and sick of his disciplined regimen, that Steve had
convinced John to drink for the first time. John
quickly got out of control. He begin mixing hard
alcohol like a mad Scientist and dancing on roofs. By
the time the night was over, John had gotten a tattoo
on his right wrist of gibberish which no one could
decipher. Worst of all John woke up nude on the floor
of a bathroom. Although he could remember nothing,
Adam would forever claim that he had engaged in a
three-way with Kathy Bates.

PART VIII: The Downfall of Big Asia.

Big Asia was an awesome physical presence whom Walker
had discovered while watching a track meet. He was
dominating the competition in the shot-put.

The man could consume literally pounds upon pounds of
pasta, burgers and noodles between events to fuel him
to victory. It was with this secret weapon that Walker
would be able to defeat the Betas and anyone else
foolish enough to show up at the Challenge.

In a show of arrogance and bravado, Walker demanded
that Big Asia chug a half gallon in only ten seconds
during the pre-game interviews. Walker estimated that
Asia could consume 2 gallons in a half an hour, so
this would be little more than a warm up.

After the interview, Asia began to feel more and more
sick. He began moaning in agony as a distraught Walker
began to berate the large man.

When Asia began spitting up blood, Walker was forced
to drop him off at the hospital.

Walker would find out later that Asia had never
actually tried Milk. In his homeland of China, it was
not uncommon to never try the substance. Big Asia had
no idea that he would have such a severe reaction.

Earlier in the week, Walker had did his best to help
out Travis, going as far as to wear a gorilla costume
to draw attention to himself while handing out flyers.

Towards the end of the day, The Betas and other surly
Fraternity members caused Walker to lose his temper.

Walker returned to the safe haven of the junkyard and
beat several cars as the sunset blazed in the horizon.

Despite the loss of Asia, Walker managed to work
himself into a frenzy. He summoned motivation from his
youth, once again painting his face like Lattimer.
Walker prepped by applying the white and black face
paint and ripping off some extended sets on the bench
press that he kept in the front yard.

Walker had to be ready. Tensions were already running
high between Walker and the Betas, because the of the
knee injury, the feces, and the toilet papering.
Adding to the tension was the rabid crowd who seemed
ready for blood. Walker was looking for any measure of
disrespect as an excuse to attack.

Besides his quest to seek revenge on the Betas, Walker
felt some pressure to entertain the masses for the
benefit of Travis’ documentary. Because of his
lifelong love of wrestling, he knew how to excite the
crowd.

In complete contrast to Walker’s face paint and bench
pressing, John had spent much of the previous week
exploring the contents and properties of the milk, as
well as studying the physical limitations of the human
body.

By taking all of the knowledge and research he had
gathered over the past few weeks, John was able to
plan for everything. He had determined that the
optimal defense against the lactose, would involve
coating the stomach with a combination of bread and
juices that contained an extremely high amount of
acidity: such as orange and grapefruit.

He also had the pacing down to an exact science. He
had determined that the best way to divide the gallon
would be into 16 cups, each of which, he would consume
every 3 minutes and 45 seconds. John would later learn
that his plan did not take into account how the sheer
volume of grapefruit juice and milk, would produce an
uncontrollable urge to urinate.

Although the match-up of the Brother’s Stratman would
again pit the philosophies of Wrestling against
Science, in the end, both would realize that, like
Mike Tyson liked to say, everyone has a plan, until
they get punched in the face.