Post by Hubert Smalls on Feb 3, 2017 9:07:37 GMT -5
(01/24/2017)
New York, NY
(On-Camera)
“Well, Hubie, I think you and I learned a valuable lesson today,” mutters Benny Stevens, dropping a curious brown liquid from an aluminum flask into his tall Starbucks cup. He is surprisingly nonchalant about this despite being in public. Perhaps he had felt at home in the world-wide chain originally conjured in the Rain City. Or, perhaps he just didn’t give a hoot.
Smalls, raising his eyes over the plastic lid of his Cookies and Cream Frappucino across the table, awaits this valuable lesson from his friend and confidant.
“The lesson is that even the most handsomest of dudes are no match for these New York City snobs!” Benny exclaims, loud enough to draw attention to himself. He is met with a few glances from neighboring tables, but this does not seem to faze him in the least. “But that’s okay. You, me, maybe some uglier people on the roster to make us look way better...not that we need it...Indianapolis. Those Midwest Targets won’t know what hit ‘em, man!”
Hubert gives an approving grin as he takes an audible sip from his sweet treat.
“Hell, we don’t even have to pretend we’re in there to buy home decor for this one,” Stevens remarks, reflecting on the incident that had led them to the coffee shop in the first place.
“I can’t believe they made me pay for that hideous-looking serving tray. She’s the one who knocked it out of my hands, dammit!”
(1/24/2017)
Central Park, NY
(On-Camera)
“You’ve got to be kidding me.”
A quick scene change from our previous coffee paradise. Having taken a temporary break towards attempting to craft Hubert into the next Mark Morrison, we observe him and Benny Stevens seated on a bench overlooking the Central Park Reservoir. Stevens’ initial comment, uttered while scrolling through his phone, falls on inattentive ears. Hubert is preoccupied with tearing slivers of bread off several slices, balling them up and tossing them to a vicious street gang of nearby Canadian geese.
With the flask nearly drained, Benny seems to be in a bit of exaggerated surprise as he reviews the lineup for Executive Action. He glances at the camera and sells a frown before continuing.
“I get that we’re in somewhat of a Neverending Story-Atreyu-and-Artax-in-the-quicksand period at Alpha, but why would you even book a match where the Cat Daddy, the Gentle Grits and Gravy, the Moon Pie Prince, the Sweet Potato Sir,” Benny rambles, pausing briefly to think of another nickname. “The FUCKING MISSISSIPPI SQUIRREL Hubie Smalls, who’s going to wear his shoulders out having to carry two globs and a Caroline around for at least more than three seconds!”
Hubert turns his attention back to Benny instantaneously after the Mississippi Squirrel remark. “I like that song. Ray Stevemans is funny.”
“You’re damn right! He’s a national treasure! Well, before he got all super right-wing and into meth, at least,” Benny agrees. “But I think even old Ray on a crack binge would agree that instead of having you wrestle Aaron Pace and Jessie Roberts for a shot at the Paramount Championship -- they should just give it to you and fill the time with Tail Earnhardt playing with the tag rope. I mean, Burchill’s okay, but it’s not exactly screaming marquee to me.”
Hubert scratches his head with expected confusion. “I reckon they prolly don’t wanna see T.E. just battin’ around a rope. Prolly want to see all of us restle.”
Benny shrugs. “I know. Privileges have to be earned, but look at you! Talent? Check. A cool moustache? Check. Embarrassingly good-looking? Check. Animal lover? Check. Just an all-around positive person to be around? Check. All qualities fitting of a future champion, all of which you have.”
“Thenks, Benny,” Smalls replies, happy to accept the compliment. “But Aaron and Caroline and Jessie all talented, too. And Caroline and Jessie are purty. And I don’t know, they all might like cats and dogs and stuff too. I just wanna go out there and do my best for the folks comin’ to see us.”
“Hube,” Stevens remarks, putting a hand on his shoulder and turning toward him, “you’re such a modest guy. But take it from me, you gotta believe in yourself! I mean, no offense, but a friend sometimes has to be blunt with a friend: that’s the one thing they’ve got that you don’t have enough of. It’s one thing to walk hard, buckaroo -- but everyone notices when you’ve got a little swagger in your step.”
Hubert appears to mull over Benny’s advice, using his fingers to comb his mustache down. However, instead of responding directly to his pal, he turns to examine the geese once again.
“Back in Petal we had some geese that always hung around a pond at the local park,” he recants. “There was also some ducks there too. Real purty ducks, not the kind you’d wanna go huntin’ fer. Anyway, I used to go runnin’ there in school to get ready for track season, ‘cause it had a bunch of walkin’ trails and stuff. It’d take you around the pond.”
Benny, a little captivated by this Forrest Gump-esque lead in, stares at Hubert as he continues his soliloquy.
“So I was runnin’ one afternoon and I was lookin’ over at this momma with her lil’ son. He was havin’ fun throwin’ bread out and feeding them geese. The thang though about geese is even though they alright around folks, sometimes they get ornery fer no reason,” he mutters.
“I looked down fer a second to change songs on the iPod, then when I looked back up, this dad gum goose is chasin’ this lil’ boy around, tryin’ to peck at him!”
Stevens gave a chuckle as he imagined the scenario in his head while Hubert pressed on.
“Of course the momma snatches him up and she’s goin’ haywire and kickin’ at the goose. They ran all the way up to the playground, her doin’ a dang mule kick after every step tryin’ to keep it away. She didn’t even realize the goose had done give up chasin’ em after about five seconds.
“Anyway, I’d turned the corner and went runnin’ where I couldn’t see ‘em fer a while,” Hubert states. “But I finally come back and they’d done moved to the other side of the pond where the ducks were hangin’ out -- way the heck away from them geese. And them ducks was gettin’ all the bread, ‘cause they ain’t mean like geese are.”
“Hmmm,” Benny reacts. “So you’re saying...you want to be a duck, not a goose.” Admittedly a little surprised by his simple friend relating his own life to a goofy animal story, Stevens realized that there was certainly more than meets the eye with his new found friend.
“Yep. Ducks and geese are fun to feed, but people gonna like ducks more ‘cause they nice. You remember that game Duck Duck Goose? Goose is the one runnin’ around in circles, wearin’ themselves out tryin’ to chase someone. Duck gets to relax and eat bread.”
“Jeez, Hubert,” Benny says, standing to his feet. “That’s some fucking profound stuff.”
Smalls turns to look at Stevens, a look of puzzlement spread across his face.
“What’s profound mean?”