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THE REMOTE OF DOOM!

September 17th, 2008

The Great

(The Great, his ten year old son Nick and his five year old son “Little” Johnny are sitting on The Great’s living room floor. Nick and The Great are playing SMACKDOWN vs. RAW 2004 on PS2 as The Great seems to want to expand his move set. Nick is mostly complaining about the need for Halo 3 and a XBOX360. Dad, of course, ignores his pleas.

Johnny is working on a complex, multifaceted algorithm of sorts when he realizes he’s “on to something”, drops what he’s doing, and begins to speak in his James Earl Jones sounding voice—)

Little Johnny: Father?

“The Great”: (staring at the t.v.) BOOM! TWIST OF GREAT! Did you feel THAT, Nick old boy!? (The Great playfully shoves Nick over)

Little Johnny: (cupping his hands around his mouth) Oh, sperm donor?

Nick: You cheat! Quit blocking my finishers!

Little Johnny: (ahem) Ohhhh, Breeder’s puppet for being a fleshy ATM machine and baby batter PEZ dispenser? I’ve solved your problem.

“The Great”: OFF THE TOP—-WHAMMO! Take that, SON! The Great is starting to DOM—I—-NATE! Tap out, you worthless jobber!

Nick: Dad? That’s a rest hold! Nobody taps to THAT!

Little Johnny: FATHER! You hebetudinous cad! I say I’ve found the solution to your dilemma.

(The Great pauses the game and looks at Johnny.)

“The Great”: Johnny, why do you want to distract The Great when The Great is getting ready to FINISH HIM? What are you rambling about?

Little Johnny: Rambling? Check your tone and attitudinarianism, kind sir. I said, if my calculations are correct, I have solved your—- “problem.”

“The Great”: WHAT problem?

Little Johnny: Is it not a fact you’ll soon be engaged in scripted violence with a quad called Steven Hawking? In case you haven’t noticed, he’s undefeated, as are you, if I recall, in singles competition. However, since you sided with that ragamuffin, street cred-less urchin, Pete Trable, you’ve barely sustained Jimmy Wang Yang status. But I digress.

In straight up, non-tandem, non-clustered “every man for himself” type contests— you’re still on the unscathed list. This must continue or The Breeder will continue to howl at decibels only canines should endure.

“The Great”: Okay, you have The Great’s attention. Tell me.

(Johnny holds up an iPod sized instrument that has a joystick and buttons fastened to it)

Little Johnny: This— is my greatest invention. It’s a universal remote for motorized wheelchairs. Do you see where I’m heading with this?

“The Great”: The Great cannot say The Great fully understands.

Little Johnny: Should I offer an exegesis?

“The Great”: Huh?

Little Johnny: (sighs heavily) Never mind. Just listen, here’s what you do. If memory serves correct, Steven Hawking owns an electric or motorized chair, yes?

“The Great”: The Great doesn’t know.

Little Johnny: Well, if he doesn’t, you buy him a HOVEROUND and tell him it’s a gift from all the guys and gals in BOB. Do this prior to !MPLOSION! 11. Sure, the man is of superior intellect, but we’ll hope that he succumbs to the “friendly gesture” aspect of our scheme. You follow?

“The Great”: The Great does—

Little Johnny: Once he wheels to the ring, gets in, and the bell sounds, I activate my remote and wheel him right back to the dressing room and he gets counted out! I’m a genius.

Nick: That’s cheating!

“The Great”: The Great agrees, The Great feels bad about cheating against a man without the use of his limbs.

Little Johnny: Hold the phone. Didn’t you once try to arrange the construction of a prison yard shank to stab Death with?

“The Great”: Umm, that was a joke.

Little Johnny: Nonsense. You’re not fooling me, you’ll do anything to win. And with this, you can’t lose. You don’t’ even have to hit him.

“The Great”: Son, your inventions have a way of backfiring. Remember the Pete Trable cyborg fiasco?

Little Johnny: I’m still working on that—it’s a work IN PROGRESS.

Nick: Dad, I’m hungry. When’s Mom getting home?

“The Great”: Don’t know, Nick. Her and Lori went shopping. Again. The Great can’t understand why a teenaged girl needs five pair of UGGs.

Little Johnny: Forget UGGs. Buy the HOVEROUND. Give it to Steven Hawking. Watch me work my magic. Remain unbeaten in one-on-one match-ups.

(Nick starts FREAKING out)

Nick: DAD! DAD! LOOK!

(he points at the television)

Nick: Something’s wrong with the t.v.! Something’s coming on!

Little Johnny: Looks as though somebody or something has pirated the lines and is programming into our home. Neat trick, do tell!

Nick: Who is that, Dad? How are they doing that?

“The Great”: The Great doesn’t know, son. Let’s just watch and see what happens—–

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