Post by dsb on Jul 17, 2018 16:39:07 GMT
“Yoona, I’m so not ready for this,” Camille Cosworth whimpered as she laid on the operating table at the Mayo Sports Clinic, her apprehension and unease plainly visible on her features.
CAMILLE COSWORTH
Yoona Park gave her girl’s hand a reassuring squeeze.
YOONA PARK
“You’re gonna do great, babe. You always do. Have some faith in the doctors.”
“Oh my God, did you not SEE the lead surgeon?! He was wearing jean shorts! With Crocs! Jean shorts with Crocs, Yoona! Who the heck does that?!”
Park sighed, “Cam, you’re being really unfair and judgmental about the man’s fashion choices. Maybe his calves get really warm and --”
“His name is CHET!” Camille protested. “Chet is like an eleven out of ten on the Chad scale of drunken frat boys!”
“Well, to be fair, he did ask us to call him Broseidon instead,” Yoona countered.
“THAT’S WORSE, YOONA!” Cosworth screeched. “OH MY GOD, THAT IS SO MUCH W --”
“YOOOOOOOO! WHAT UP, BRAH?!” the man in question screamed at the top of his lungs as he kicked open the double doors to the operating room and sauntered in. “THE D-O-C IS IN ‘DA HOOOOUUUUUSSSSSSE!”
DR. CHET ‘BROSEIDON’ WILLIAMS, MD, PHD, DT, DIRECTOR OF ORTHOPEDIC SURGERY
Sure enough, Dr. Chet Williams was wearing knee-length jean shorts with Croc rubber shoes, though he had replaced his TAPOUT-branded MMA t-shirt and trucker hat with a pair of sleeveless green surgical scrubs and a matching surgical cap. Tattooed on his right shoulder was a cartoon caricature of himself surfing atop what appeared to be a great white shark.
Camille groaned in despair while Yoona turned and greeted, “Broseidon --”
Williams made a tut-tut noise and held up his hand.
“That’s Doctor Broseidon,” he insisted. “Didn’t go through seven years of medical school just so --”
“Is -- isn’t medical school only four years…?” Cosworth asked, sounding more worried than ever. “...and where’d you get your degree from again, Bro -- Dr. Broseidon?”
“Got my Doctorate of Thugonomics from ‘Da School O’ Hard Knocks, brah!” Chet proudly affirmed, prompting Cosworth to nearly roll off the operating table and make a one-legged dash for the door were it not for Park holding her down.
“...and also an MD and PhD from a lil’ place called Haahhhhhvaaahhhhd…” he added, almost as an afterthought. “Guess you could say I’m WICKED SMAHT! I mean, most people don’t, but you totally could!”
<<I’m gonna die…>> Camille said flatly in Korean. <<This is how it ends, Yoona. Cold, and alone, and at the hands of an imbecile…>>
“HEY! NOT COOL!” Chet angrily blurted. “WOULD AN IMBECILE HAVE A CREDIT SCORE OF OVER ONE HUNDRED?!”
Park and Cosworth exchanged a mutual look of confusion.
<<You… you understand Korean?>> Yoona asked, her voice tinged with disbelief.
“Oh, you best believe ‘dat, brah! Spent three years stationed at the US Marine base outside Daegu before my court martial!” Williams said as he snapped to attention and fired off a crisp salute with the wrong hand. “HOO-RAH!”
“That’s… that’s not reassuring…” Camille muttered just as the anesthesiology team came in. “Not reassuring AT ALL.”
Despite her misgivings, Cosworth reasoned she had come too far to turn back. If her courage failed her now, she knew that she would never again be able to summon the fortitude to get back on the operating table. Doing her best to tune out the blaring alarms sounded by her survival instinct, Camille clenched her fists and laid still as the nurses and technicians outfitted her with an assortment of monitors and tubes that would keep track of her vital signs and supply her with oxygen and anesthesia.
Just as the oxygen mask came on, Cosworth suddenly remembered something very important.
“Can I have a candy?”
“Brah, whattaya six years old or something?” Williams scoffed before he shouted to his anesthesiologist. “GIVE’ER THE JUICE! WE’S ‘BOUT TA GO ON THE BROSEIDON ADVENTURE!”
The potent drug cocktail hit her like a ton of bricks, and within seconds her vision started to go dark. The last thing she saw was Yoona coming in to give her a gentle kiss on the forehead.
<<Shit fuck titty cunt...>> Park whispered, facetiously wishing her girlfriend ‘good luck’ in Korean.
Her eyelids fluttering, Camille tried to flash a smile, but the corners were too heavy to lift. Still, she managed to slur <<Shiiiit… fuuuuccck… tittyyyyyyy… cuuuu…>
And then she was out. Chet leaned over her and gently lifted one eyelid with his thumb, the eyeball underneath staring blankly ahead.
“Ha, ha, ha, ha! Yooouuu can’t seeeee meeeeee…!” Williams laughed as he waved a hand back and forth in the space between their faces, then he turned to the other half of the couple. “Don’tcha worry, brah. I’mma take good care of your sister.”
Yoona’s eyes narrowed.
“What the fuck, dude?! We’re not sisters.”
“Really? But y’all look so much alike…” Chet mused as he scratched the back of his head with the scalpel he’d just picked up. “Ehhhh, it don’t matter none. Have a seat out in the waiting room, brah. This’ll be a piece o’ cake.”
*************************
Chet Williams took a deep breath. Then another, and another, and another in an attempt to control his panicked hyperventilation. He had drastically underestimated the difficulty of the task at hand, and things had gone awry almost immediately. A risky maneuver a couple of minutes ago had forestalled imminent disaster but now left him precariously balanced on a knife’s edge, success and catastrophe separated by only a millimeter of movement here or a Pascal of pressure there. Worse still, the steadily quickening beeps from Camille’s heart rate monitor meant that she would soon rouse from her drug-induced sedation. Chet had to act, and he had to act soon.
The sweat poured off his brow and stung his eyes, the back of his green surgical scrubs was already darkened and soaked with perspiration. He screamed for a nurse or a technician to help wipe his face and clear his vision, but of course, no one answered. The lesser men and women had abandoned him long ago, lest their psyches be crushed by the overwhelming pressure of the situation. Whether glory or failure, this moment would be his and his alone.
He swiped the back of his right hand across his eyes to flick away the sweat, then he peeled off his purple surgical glove with his teeth and spat it on the ground. Not exactly kosher in terms of hospital hygiene, but in such a sensitive situation, Williams needed all the dexterity and tactile feedback he could get. Even the paper-thin nitrile sheathe stretched over his fingertips could potentially baffle his finely honed sense of touch and lead him into a tragic misstep.
In a last ditch attempt to steady his frayed nerves, Chet began to sing to himself.
“It’s the eye of the tiger, it’s the dream of the fight…”
Soft and unsteady at first, his voice quickly grew more confident and steady.
“...Risin’ up to the challenge of our rival…”
Williams closed his eyes and lightly bobbed his head in rhythm as he continued to sing.
“...And the last known survivor stalks his prey in the night…”
The BEEP BEEP BEEP of Camille’s heart rate monitor accelerated as if she could somehow sense the heightened tension permeating the room.
“...And he’s watchin’ us all with the EYYYYEEEEE…”
Eyes still shut and guided by nothing more than instinct, Chet’s right hand lashed out with viper-like quickness…
“...OF THE TIIIIIIIIIIGEEEERRRRRRRRRR!”
...and came up with a Jenga block swiped from the bottom third of the tower. In one easy motion, he twirled it about in his fingers and placed it again at the top. The stack of wooden blocks teetered one way and then tottered the other, and after a few tense moments, it somehow remained balanced and upright atop Cosworth’s forehead.
“YES! YEEEESSSSS! YEEAAAAAARRRRGGGH!” Chet screamed into Yoona’s face while tearing open his scrubs and then pounding his bare chest. “UNGH! GET SOME! GET SOME! WHO’S DA MAN?! I’M DA MAN! WOOT-WOOOOOOOOT!”
“Dude, you took like ten minutes to make that move,” Park grumbled, clearly unimpressed. “That’s gotta be some kinda party foul…”
“WHAT?! WHAT WAS THAT?!” Williams continued to gloat as he leaned in close with a hand cupped to his ear. “COULDN’T HEAR YA OVER THE SOUND OF ME BURYIN’ YO’ FINE SEXY ASS! YOU AIN’T ‘BOUT ‘DIS LIFE, BRAH! WHATCHA GONNA DO WHEN THE FUNDAMENTAL FORCES OF PHYSICS RUN WILD ON --”
“Oh, fuck off and let me make my move…” Yoona huffed while she shoved the man away with a stiff-arm to the face.
She had brought her EurAsian title belt with her to Jacksonville for good luck, and now she ran her fingers over the faceplate, feeling the Y-O-O-N-A-P-A-R-K engraved into the insert. After rubbing her talisman, Yoona began to gently poke and prod the unsteady structure, trying to determine which pieces were free-floating and which pieces were load-bearing. A piece on the fourth-from-bottom layer showed just the tiniest bit of wiggle room and she immediately began nudging it outwards, her fingers working with the same adroit skill that she used to touch her --
“CUNT!” Camille screamed at the top of her lungs as she suddenly sat bolt upright, sending the Jenga tower which had been set on her forehead tumbling to the bed in an avalanche of loose blocks.
“SHIT, GODDAMN!” Yoona screeched, grabbing a handful of wooden pieces and hurling them against the far wall.
For his part, Chet merely stood up with his arms raised in triumph, his expression confident and placid as if victory had never been in doubt. He snatched Park’s title belt from her lap, threw it over one shoulder, then stooped down so that he was face-to-face with the scowling wrestler.
“Look at me…” he whispered as he pointed to his eyes with the index and middle fingers of his right hand. “...I’m the champion now.”
“THE FUCK YOU ARE!” Yoona snarled. “YOU’RE PUTTING HER BACK UNDER AND WE’RE HAVING A REMATCH, ASSHOLE! BEST FIFTY OUT OF NINETY-NINE!”
Williams did no such thing, instead opting to back away and launching into his well-practiced victory dance -- a slick Moonwalk that transitioned first into the Running Man and then into the Macarena -- while Park could only seethe.
Finally, Cosworth regained enough of her senses to realize she was back in her hospital room, and she groaned, “Hhhhoooow… how long was I out…?”
“Not fucking long enough, goddamn it!” Yoona snapped as she watched Chet enter the Robot phase of his victory dance.
“Umm… okay… that was… that was hurtful… but err… how’d the surgery go? I mean, I’m not dead I don’t think, so it couldn’t have been that bad, right…?”
“Welp, got good news and bad news for you, babe,” Park sighed. “Which one do ya want first?”
“Oh God, the good news, please. Definitely the good news…”
“Well, the good news is that the surgery was a total success and you’re gonna make a full recovery,” Yoona said with a nonchalant shrug of her shoulders.
Camille didn’t dare believe her ears, doing an animated double take before she gasped, “Wait, REALLY?!”
“Yep. I mean, not that you contributed anything, ‘cause your lazy ass was asleep the whole time...”
“I’m -- I’m going to wrestle again…?”
“Mm-hmm. By the end of the year, according to Dancing Queen over there,” Park answered with a shrug as Williams cha-cha’ed out the door then continued to Walk Like an Egyptian down the corridor.
“Not, like, your brand of boring wrestling, but actual wrestling that people want to see?”
“Wow, okay… now THAT was hurtful… but yeah… actual wrestling...”
“The kind of wrestling that makes Vale mad?”
“Cam you’re gonna make Vale so mad she’s gonna spit in your beer twice as much as usual.”
“Oh my God, Yoona… this… this is…” Cosworth stuttered, getting choked up and at a loss for words. “...wait... what’s the bad news?!”
Park took a deep breath and patted her the back.
“The bad news is that you died on the table, and this is actually Hell. Who would’ve known that God was a limp-dicked prude who isn’t a fan of pre-marital girl-on-girl action?”
Camille looked at her girl with a quizzically raised eyebrow for a couple seconds, then she chuckled, “Well, I think it’s Heaven as long as you’re here with me…”
“Babe, I love you, you know I do…” Yoona groaned, running a hand over her face. “...but what you just said was cheesier than Estrina Starfire’s vagina.”
Cosworth snort-laughed so hard that she shot saliva from her nostrils.
CAMILLE COSWORTH
Yoona Park gave her girl’s hand a reassuring squeeze.
YOONA PARK
“You’re gonna do great, babe. You always do. Have some faith in the doctors.”
“Oh my God, did you not SEE the lead surgeon?! He was wearing jean shorts! With Crocs! Jean shorts with Crocs, Yoona! Who the heck does that?!”
Park sighed, “Cam, you’re being really unfair and judgmental about the man’s fashion choices. Maybe his calves get really warm and --”
“His name is CHET!” Camille protested. “Chet is like an eleven out of ten on the Chad scale of drunken frat boys!”
“Well, to be fair, he did ask us to call him Broseidon instead,” Yoona countered.
“THAT’S WORSE, YOONA!” Cosworth screeched. “OH MY GOD, THAT IS SO MUCH W --”
“YOOOOOOOO! WHAT UP, BRAH?!” the man in question screamed at the top of his lungs as he kicked open the double doors to the operating room and sauntered in. “THE D-O-C IS IN ‘DA HOOOOUUUUUSSSSSSE!”
DR. CHET ‘BROSEIDON’ WILLIAMS, MD, PHD, DT, DIRECTOR OF ORTHOPEDIC SURGERY
Sure enough, Dr. Chet Williams was wearing knee-length jean shorts with Croc rubber shoes, though he had replaced his TAPOUT-branded MMA t-shirt and trucker hat with a pair of sleeveless green surgical scrubs and a matching surgical cap. Tattooed on his right shoulder was a cartoon caricature of himself surfing atop what appeared to be a great white shark.
Camille groaned in despair while Yoona turned and greeted, “Broseidon --”
Williams made a tut-tut noise and held up his hand.
“That’s Doctor Broseidon,” he insisted. “Didn’t go through seven years of medical school just so --”
“Is -- isn’t medical school only four years…?” Cosworth asked, sounding more worried than ever. “...and where’d you get your degree from again, Bro -- Dr. Broseidon?”
“Got my Doctorate of Thugonomics from ‘Da School O’ Hard Knocks, brah!” Chet proudly affirmed, prompting Cosworth to nearly roll off the operating table and make a one-legged dash for the door were it not for Park holding her down.
“...and also an MD and PhD from a lil’ place called Haahhhhhvaaahhhhd…” he added, almost as an afterthought. “Guess you could say I’m WICKED SMAHT! I mean, most people don’t, but you totally could!”
<<I’m gonna die…>> Camille said flatly in Korean. <<This is how it ends, Yoona. Cold, and alone, and at the hands of an imbecile…>>
“HEY! NOT COOL!” Chet angrily blurted. “WOULD AN IMBECILE HAVE A CREDIT SCORE OF OVER ONE HUNDRED?!”
Park and Cosworth exchanged a mutual look of confusion.
<<You… you understand Korean?>> Yoona asked, her voice tinged with disbelief.
“Oh, you best believe ‘dat, brah! Spent three years stationed at the US Marine base outside Daegu before my court martial!” Williams said as he snapped to attention and fired off a crisp salute with the wrong hand. “HOO-RAH!”
“That’s… that’s not reassuring…” Camille muttered just as the anesthesiology team came in. “Not reassuring AT ALL.”
Despite her misgivings, Cosworth reasoned she had come too far to turn back. If her courage failed her now, she knew that she would never again be able to summon the fortitude to get back on the operating table. Doing her best to tune out the blaring alarms sounded by her survival instinct, Camille clenched her fists and laid still as the nurses and technicians outfitted her with an assortment of monitors and tubes that would keep track of her vital signs and supply her with oxygen and anesthesia.
Just as the oxygen mask came on, Cosworth suddenly remembered something very important.
“Can I have a candy?”
“Brah, whattaya six years old or something?” Williams scoffed before he shouted to his anesthesiologist. “GIVE’ER THE JUICE! WE’S ‘BOUT TA GO ON THE BROSEIDON ADVENTURE!”
The potent drug cocktail hit her like a ton of bricks, and within seconds her vision started to go dark. The last thing she saw was Yoona coming in to give her a gentle kiss on the forehead.
<<Shit fuck titty cunt...>> Park whispered, facetiously wishing her girlfriend ‘good luck’ in Korean.
Her eyelids fluttering, Camille tried to flash a smile, but the corners were too heavy to lift. Still, she managed to slur <<Shiiiit… fuuuuccck… tittyyyyyyy… cuuuu…>
And then she was out. Chet leaned over her and gently lifted one eyelid with his thumb, the eyeball underneath staring blankly ahead.
“Ha, ha, ha, ha! Yooouuu can’t seeeee meeeeee…!” Williams laughed as he waved a hand back and forth in the space between their faces, then he turned to the other half of the couple. “Don’tcha worry, brah. I’mma take good care of your sister.”
Yoona’s eyes narrowed.
“What the fuck, dude?! We’re not sisters.”
“Really? But y’all look so much alike…” Chet mused as he scratched the back of his head with the scalpel he’d just picked up. “Ehhhh, it don’t matter none. Have a seat out in the waiting room, brah. This’ll be a piece o’ cake.”
*************************
Chet Williams took a deep breath. Then another, and another, and another in an attempt to control his panicked hyperventilation. He had drastically underestimated the difficulty of the task at hand, and things had gone awry almost immediately. A risky maneuver a couple of minutes ago had forestalled imminent disaster but now left him precariously balanced on a knife’s edge, success and catastrophe separated by only a millimeter of movement here or a Pascal of pressure there. Worse still, the steadily quickening beeps from Camille’s heart rate monitor meant that she would soon rouse from her drug-induced sedation. Chet had to act, and he had to act soon.
The sweat poured off his brow and stung his eyes, the back of his green surgical scrubs was already darkened and soaked with perspiration. He screamed for a nurse or a technician to help wipe his face and clear his vision, but of course, no one answered. The lesser men and women had abandoned him long ago, lest their psyches be crushed by the overwhelming pressure of the situation. Whether glory or failure, this moment would be his and his alone.
He swiped the back of his right hand across his eyes to flick away the sweat, then he peeled off his purple surgical glove with his teeth and spat it on the ground. Not exactly kosher in terms of hospital hygiene, but in such a sensitive situation, Williams needed all the dexterity and tactile feedback he could get. Even the paper-thin nitrile sheathe stretched over his fingertips could potentially baffle his finely honed sense of touch and lead him into a tragic misstep.
In a last ditch attempt to steady his frayed nerves, Chet began to sing to himself.
“It’s the eye of the tiger, it’s the dream of the fight…”
Soft and unsteady at first, his voice quickly grew more confident and steady.
“...Risin’ up to the challenge of our rival…”
Williams closed his eyes and lightly bobbed his head in rhythm as he continued to sing.
“...And the last known survivor stalks his prey in the night…”
The BEEP BEEP BEEP of Camille’s heart rate monitor accelerated as if she could somehow sense the heightened tension permeating the room.
“...And he’s watchin’ us all with the EYYYYEEEEE…”
Eyes still shut and guided by nothing more than instinct, Chet’s right hand lashed out with viper-like quickness…
“...OF THE TIIIIIIIIIIGEEEERRRRRRRRRR!”
...and came up with a Jenga block swiped from the bottom third of the tower. In one easy motion, he twirled it about in his fingers and placed it again at the top. The stack of wooden blocks teetered one way and then tottered the other, and after a few tense moments, it somehow remained balanced and upright atop Cosworth’s forehead.
“YES! YEEEESSSSS! YEEAAAAAARRRRGGGH!” Chet screamed into Yoona’s face while tearing open his scrubs and then pounding his bare chest. “UNGH! GET SOME! GET SOME! WHO’S DA MAN?! I’M DA MAN! WOOT-WOOOOOOOOT!”
“Dude, you took like ten minutes to make that move,” Park grumbled, clearly unimpressed. “That’s gotta be some kinda party foul…”
“WHAT?! WHAT WAS THAT?!” Williams continued to gloat as he leaned in close with a hand cupped to his ear. “COULDN’T HEAR YA OVER THE SOUND OF ME BURYIN’ YO’ FINE SEXY ASS! YOU AIN’T ‘BOUT ‘DIS LIFE, BRAH! WHATCHA GONNA DO WHEN THE FUNDAMENTAL FORCES OF PHYSICS RUN WILD ON --”
“Oh, fuck off and let me make my move…” Yoona huffed while she shoved the man away with a stiff-arm to the face.
She had brought her EurAsian title belt with her to Jacksonville for good luck, and now she ran her fingers over the faceplate, feeling the Y-O-O-N-A-P-A-R-K engraved into the insert. After rubbing her talisman, Yoona began to gently poke and prod the unsteady structure, trying to determine which pieces were free-floating and which pieces were load-bearing. A piece on the fourth-from-bottom layer showed just the tiniest bit of wiggle room and she immediately began nudging it outwards, her fingers working with the same adroit skill that she used to touch her --
“CUNT!” Camille screamed at the top of her lungs as she suddenly sat bolt upright, sending the Jenga tower which had been set on her forehead tumbling to the bed in an avalanche of loose blocks.
“SHIT, GODDAMN!” Yoona screeched, grabbing a handful of wooden pieces and hurling them against the far wall.
For his part, Chet merely stood up with his arms raised in triumph, his expression confident and placid as if victory had never been in doubt. He snatched Park’s title belt from her lap, threw it over one shoulder, then stooped down so that he was face-to-face with the scowling wrestler.
“Look at me…” he whispered as he pointed to his eyes with the index and middle fingers of his right hand. “...I’m the champion now.”
“THE FUCK YOU ARE!” Yoona snarled. “YOU’RE PUTTING HER BACK UNDER AND WE’RE HAVING A REMATCH, ASSHOLE! BEST FIFTY OUT OF NINETY-NINE!”
Williams did no such thing, instead opting to back away and launching into his well-practiced victory dance -- a slick Moonwalk that transitioned first into the Running Man and then into the Macarena -- while Park could only seethe.
Finally, Cosworth regained enough of her senses to realize she was back in her hospital room, and she groaned, “Hhhhoooow… how long was I out…?”
“Not fucking long enough, goddamn it!” Yoona snapped as she watched Chet enter the Robot phase of his victory dance.
“Umm… okay… that was… that was hurtful… but err… how’d the surgery go? I mean, I’m not dead I don’t think, so it couldn’t have been that bad, right…?”
“Welp, got good news and bad news for you, babe,” Park sighed. “Which one do ya want first?”
“Oh God, the good news, please. Definitely the good news…”
“Well, the good news is that the surgery was a total success and you’re gonna make a full recovery,” Yoona said with a nonchalant shrug of her shoulders.
Camille didn’t dare believe her ears, doing an animated double take before she gasped, “Wait, REALLY?!”
“Yep. I mean, not that you contributed anything, ‘cause your lazy ass was asleep the whole time...”
“I’m -- I’m going to wrestle again…?”
“Mm-hmm. By the end of the year, according to Dancing Queen over there,” Park answered with a shrug as Williams cha-cha’ed out the door then continued to Walk Like an Egyptian down the corridor.
“Not, like, your brand of boring wrestling, but actual wrestling that people want to see?”
“Wow, okay… now THAT was hurtful… but yeah… actual wrestling...”
“The kind of wrestling that makes Vale mad?”
“Cam you’re gonna make Vale so mad she’s gonna spit in your beer twice as much as usual.”
“Oh my God, Yoona… this… this is…” Cosworth stuttered, getting choked up and at a loss for words. “...wait... what’s the bad news?!”
Park took a deep breath and patted her the back.
“The bad news is that you died on the table, and this is actually Hell. Who would’ve known that God was a limp-dicked prude who isn’t a fan of pre-marital girl-on-girl action?”
Camille looked at her girl with a quizzically raised eyebrow for a couple seconds, then she chuckled, “Well, I think it’s Heaven as long as you’re here with me…”
“Babe, I love you, you know I do…” Yoona groaned, running a hand over her face. “...but what you just said was cheesier than Estrina Starfire’s vagina.”
Cosworth snort-laughed so hard that she shot saliva from her nostrils.
