Magnolias for Algernon (Part 2) (Featuring Benny Stevens!)
Jan 24, 2017 13:11:14 GMT -5
Ben-Stev and Bindy Trent like this
Post by Hubert Smalls on Jan 24, 2017 13:11:14 GMT -5
(06/02/2009)
Gulfport, MS
The sand sauteed the tops of their feet as Jake Munson and the blond-haired cheerleader struggled to lug the massive, wheel-less cooler over to the spot that their friends had already begun to prepare.
"It's a Yeti," his friend and teammate Randy had beamed as the two had loaded the cooler in the back of the pickup back in Petal. "These thangs are fuckin' the Mustang of coolers."
At this point, Jake would have been fine if it were just the Datsun of coolers, so long as it were about three tons lighter.
"I know why they call it a Yeti," he remarks to Madison as he grunts with exertion. "You gotta be a Sasquatch to carry it yourself."
Madison shoots a glance at him as her poor little arms could barely get the back end of the thing off of the beach. "Um, what's a Sasquatch?"
"Bigfoot," Jake says as he mentally kicked himself in his own ass. Five minutes into the trip with one of the best looking girls in his class, and he'd managed a bomb of colossal proportion.
"Yeah," she agrees, continuing the no-sell of the punchline.
Still, Jake was just happy to be there. As the Petal High wrestling team mainly consisted of guys coming in directly after the football season, he was the quiet taller kid who'd managed to be the only bright spot on a poorly under-coached squad. His friendships continued to develop during the spring as he'd also proved to be a fairly capable hurdler on the track team. Jake was fine with his popularity by association, even if it meant that he was the baby bitch assigned to cooler duty: he was the only other freshman that'd been invited on this trip.
After the Homeward Bound-like journey from the parking lot to the seaside post that had been marked with a Saints flag and a bright white canopy, both Madison and Jake dropped the Yeti unceremoniously at the far corner of the site. Pulling the sleeveless West Marine t-shirt over his head and throwing it in the sand, Jake immediately reached inside the grizzly-proof container and retrieved a can of Natural Light.
"Hey Scout," called Rusty -- a mammoth of a teenager who'd headed the 285+ weight class and anchored the Petal Panthers' offensive line. "Gonna need to see some ID," he jokes. "And does your Webelos master know you drinkin' that?"
"Scout" was Jake's given nickname, all thanks to his involvement with the local Boy Scout troop. Coincidentally, this little getaway would be the last he'd have before being gainfully employed at eighty bucks a week at Camp Seminole as a counselor. The nickname had really stuck fast when Jake had lost a bet with one of the wrestling team's members, with the punishment being that he had to wear his uniform to school the next day.
"Yep. Workin' on my vomit merit badge," Jake responds, eliciting laughter from the group. Rusty, a graduating senior, lumbered over to Jake and put his arm around him, clinking the Bud Light can to his Natty.
"Atta boy."
(1/24/17)
New York, NY
On-Camera
“There’s a reason they call this place Target, my man,” an oft-familiar voice is heard behind the canvas of a black screen. “And it just so happens we’re a couple of heat-seeking arrows.”
Benny Stevens, fresh in from a flight to the Big Apple to handle a little back office business with Ashley Quid in the morning, did not immediately retire to swanky accommodations after de-boarding his plane. No, his first call was to another of Alpha Wrestling Empire’s most eligible bachelors: the Cat Daddy.
Our scene rises to find both the Playboy and Hubie Smalls posted up in one of the pet supply aisles of the Manhattan retail paradise. Stevens, clad in a pair of navy dress pants and a pink gingham Oxford, has a sultry grin on his face as he is turned toward Hubert in anticipation of the mission at hand. Smalls, somewhat nerve-rattled at both the newness of the location as well as the anticipation of the mission at hand is seen dressed in a pair of Selvedge denim, a violet Oxford, and a navy sports jacket. He has one hand on an empty red shopping cart as his eyes taper at the array of animal food on the shelves.
“Now look, bro,” Benny explains, as he rehashes the plan to his partner in crime. “What makes Target so great is that you can use pretty much any pitch without coming off as some regular jerk.”
“Okay,” Hubert says, nodding his head. “But why’d we get all gussied up to go to the store?”
“The outfit’s gotta match the pitch, man! Like I said in the parking lot: we’re not wrestlers today, all right?”
“All right,” Hubie responds.
“We’re importer-exporters who are running a charity drive for the Little Shelter, and since we’re so busy, we had to come and buy a bunch of pet supplies on our lunch break,” Benny proclaims, trying to ensure that Smalls won’t blow their scheme.
“Right. Importer-exporters. Charity drive. Lunch,” Hubert repeats.
“You’re a stud. Now, let’s park here, but don’t make it too obvious.”
The duo does not have to wait too long until a young brunette in yoga pants, a white fleece Patagonia jacket, and a pink headband strolls into the aisle. Paying little attention to either Benny or Hubert, she passes them by and gives a friendly smile in response to Stevens’ casual wave, headed directly for the canned horse meat section.
“So, what do you think, Hubes? Nine Lives or Fancy Feast?” Benny asks, purposely raising his voice an octave so that the woman could easily eavesdrop: whether she wanted to or not.
“Uh,” Hubert answers, trying to maintain some level of confidence. “I reckon they both taste the same.”
Benny, immediately horrified, begins to turn red. However, the color in his skin quickly fades as he hears the woman chuckle, under the impression that Hubert had just landed a clever joke. Stevens gives a sly grin, seizing the window of opportunity.
“So you’re saying Fancy Feast is just some kind of clever marketing ploy to get people to think their cats are eating a gourmet meal, huh?” Benny asks rhetorically. However, forgetting that “rhetorical” is not exactly in Hubert’s memory bank…
“I ain’t sure ‘cause I’m an importer/exporter and not no taste tester,” Smalls replies.
The woman casts a glance over at the AWE’s Laurel and Hardy, which Benny is able to smoothly intercept out of the corner of his eye. He turns with a smile towards her, taking a shot at opening some dialogue.
“This guy, huh?” he quips, giving a friendly pat on Hubert’s shoulder. “I can’t bring him anywhere without him thinking it’s an open mic down at Caroline’s.”
“I guess not,” she responds.
“Anyway,” he mutters, turning back towards Hubert. “Let’s hurry up, man. We gotta get this stuff for the shelter drive before lunch is over.”
The woman does not bite on the lure as Benny had hoped. Thinking quickly on his feet, Benny reverts to a more direct approach as he turns back to face the unsuspecting shopper, adding some additional chum to the hook.
“Yeah, we’re rounding up pet supplies for a charity we’re working on,” he advertises. “It’s just something we do to try to give back to the love and affection our cats and dogs give to us, you know.”
The brunette smiles. “That’s very sweet of you guys.”
“Eh,” Benny replies, “it’s nothing. Hey, if you’re interested in helping out, I’d be glad to give you our information,” he adds, ripe for the pounce.
The woman turns back, placing a sack of Blue Diamond into her cart. She then looks directly over her shoulder, beginning to push her cart in the opposite direction. “Nah, I’ll just look up the address for Vandalay Industries on Google,” she remarks as she casually walks away. “Nice try, though.”
Like a Publisher’s Clearing House winner, Benny blinked with his mouth agape. However, the giant cardboard check had just been delivered in the form of a nuclear power meltdown. Meanwhile, Hubert had already turned his attention back to the cat food, eyeing the colorful labels.
“This one’s got a new gravy recipe,” he remarks with a watered-down level of excitement.
Stevens, coming back to his senses, grabs Smalls by the arm and leads him in a new direction.
“We’re not beat yet. C’mon, Hube. I got a better idea.”
(06/02/2009)
US-49 North
The expectation of the day’s events were not exactly met. Madison, who’d passed out prematurely thanks to Firefly’s sweet tea vodka, dreaming of Brad Paisley in the back of a red Honda Accord.
Meanwhile, Jake fiddled with his thumbs in the front passenger seat. Buzzed yet coherent, he had maintained a limit, knowing that he’d be up early in the morning to leave for his summer gig in Starkville. The sun had not quite set, and he wondered just how long it would be until the beach party was inevitably broken up.
“I gotta head out,” a petite brunette had announced thirty minutes prior to this moment. “Anyone need a ride back?”
Jake’s ears piqued, although it was not for lack of hearing a new voice. The crowd of about fifteen of Petal’s pretty delinquents had branched off into pairs and clusters. Madison’s attention had been snaked by a senior upon arrival, but he didn’t care. He’d spent the bulk of the afternoon with her and her boyfriend, shooting the breeze and looking forward to the future. Camille and Brandon had both just graduated: Brandon heading to Tuscaloosa while Camille had made plans for State.
He enjoyed the company of two people who were dead set on leaving Petal in the rear-view mirror for good. He had the exact same aspiration, but unfortunately, it was an Oregon Trail worth of time before he’d be given that opportunity.
“Good to take me? I reckon we need to get her ass home too,” Jake replied, as he motioned toward Madison, currently passed out upright in a beach chair.
“Don’t go ya lanky fucker!” Rusty exclaimed. “I didn’t get to hang with you hardly none today!”
“I’ll miss you too, big un,” Jake quipped as he leaned down to hoist Madison over his shoulder in a fireman’s carry. She muttered something unintelligible in response, to which Jake ignored as he started his walk through the sand.
“Heavier than the damn cooler,” he remarked as he marched with Camille towards the car.
“She’s the real yeti,” Camille added, smiling.
She enjoyed his reserved nature. Unlike Brandon, who was known to dominate most conversations, it was refreshing to be able to speak her mind without interruption. Whether it was just intimidating for Jake to be in the presence of a very cute upperclassman or not, he only chimed in when posed a question, limiting his responses to a sentence at most.
In all honesty, Camille nowhere to be in the morning, and certainly did not have a curfew this early to worry about. The fact of the matter was that she had felt somewhat flighty since they had first arrived. She knew that after a few beers, Brandon would want to stay until midnight, so her opportunity to escape had presented itself.
Camille and Jake had exchanged glances the entire day that seemed to linger a little too long. This is why it came to no surprise that he’d volunteered to accept the ride home.
She just wondered if he’d accept her invitation to stick around.