Dos Equis

Doing The Math...

Barb L. Fish: You know, for a guy who has two X's in his name, you're really bad at both multiplication and algebra.

Barb is staring down at Dos Equis, who was busily scribbling away with pencil and pen. After a few seconds, he crumples up that piece of paper and tosses it into a growing pile of crumpled up pieces of paper near an overflowing trash bucket.

XX: This is very important work. This promo can't begin until we've solved this problem.

Oh, and Dos Equis' finally graduated from that ESL class. Thus, his improved grammar.

BLF: Great. This promo will never end. (She turns toward the camera.) Grab a brew, we're gonna be here a while.

Now, Dos Equis stares at a new, completely blank sheet of paper for several seconds, contemplating.

BLF: Why don't you just use the computer? Or a calculator...X...where's the computer?

XX: It stopped working.

BLF: Oh, you sent it to the repair shop?

XX: No. It's out in the trash.

BLF: Why?

XX: There's a giant foot-shaped hole in the monitor and several bat-shaped dents all over the hard drive.

BLF: Um, how did THAT happen?

XX: Uh...Cameron Cruise broke in here and did that. He's such a dick.

BLF: Really. Cameron Cruise broke into your motel room and destroyed your computer? Are you sure you didn't just break go crazy with that broken baseball bat over there on the floor and... (Looking at Dos Equis' feet) Did he use your boots, too? Your feet are covered in glass.

XX: Oh yes! It was so lame. I should easily defeat him at Crash! (Mumbling) Theothertwomyluchadorass.

BLF: What about the other five guys?

XX: Too many numbers! OK, here we go. The following people suck and are possibly homosexuals: High Flyer, Impulse, Atken, and Alyas. Now that the hard part is covered, my awesome trash talking, there are two things I must do to compete in this match. Figure out the solution to this math problem and randomly EMPHASIZE my words. That's what all the COOL kids are DOING these days. THIS is going to BE tough!

BLF: I have an idea. We're in Chicago, right? There are plenty of colleges around here. I'm sure somebody knows how to solve the problem.

XX: Good IDEA! I knew there was a reason I fired your brother and had you kick him in the balls and throw him out the window and me take a DUMP in his duffel bag.

BLF: Wait, what?

XX: To the nearest college or university!

Cue psychedelic "Batman"-esque transition, complete with music. Dos Equis and Barb are standing in front of the sign for Malcolm X College. Dos Equis points at the sign.

XX: I like this. He has X like me!

Inside, Dos Equis and Barb have found the math lab.

XX: Meth lab! Woohoo!

BLF: No, MATH lab.

XX: Awww.

Inside, a black, female instructor was seated at a long, wooden table, assisting a black teenager with some sort of math problem. She looked up as Dos Equis and Barb entered. Needless to say, she did a double take at his "native" luchador appearance.

Instructor: Can I help you?

XX: I hope so! I have this math problem that is driving me insane!

Instructor: Sure, I can help you out.

XX: Finally!

Dos Equis tosses some paper on the table and takes a seat to the woman's right.

XX: Here's the deal. When I'm not a student here at the great Malcolm X College, I wrestle part-time. And coming up later this month, I have a Sears Tower Match against five other wrestlers in which they are planning to hang a TV Title 12 feet above the ring on a hook. But the thing is, I'm banned from using my trusty 12-foot luchador ladder to retrieve it. This means I will only have TABLES and CHAIRS at my disposal to gain victory and my first title in NFW. Or anywhere, actually.

Student: Fo' real? Damn! That match sounds off tha hook, yo!

XX: ... No, it'll be ON a hook. Anyway...can you help me plan out a plan to plan how to plan to get the TV Title?

Instructor: OK. Let's look at this logically. How many inches are in one foot?

BLF: 12, right, X?

XX: Yes?

The instructor begins jotting down some numbers.

Instructor: OK. If there are 12 feet, you would have to multiply them by 12 to get the total number of inches, right?

XX: OK...

Instructor: Which equals 144 inches.

XX: OK...

Instructor: How tall are the tables?

XX: OK...

Instructor: No, how TALL are the tables?

BLF: I'm not sure. And neither is he. He knows how to fall through tables, but I doubt he's ever measured one, honestly.

The instructor points toward a wooden folding table against the wall.

Instructor: Are they about that height?

XX: Yes!

Instructor: Great. That makes it easy.

The group heads over to the table. She asks a fellow teacher for a tape measure and receives it in a few moments. The instructor then measures the table's height.

Instructor: 29 inches.

XX: Ahh! Now I get it...so!

Dos Equis rushes toward the table and begins writing furiously.

XX: So...all...I...do...is...divide...144...by...29... and...problem...solved...4.9655172 tables! Barb, make sure to pack a hacksaw so I can cut .0344828 off of one of the tables!

BLF: Why? You afraid you'll hit your head on the belt?

Instructor: Sir, I hate to burst your bubble, but that isn't right.

XX: No?

Instructor: No. You're forgetting a very important part of the equation.

XX: I am.

Instructor: You.

XX: The letter "U"? I'm not got at this algebra variable stuff.

Instructor: No, you as in you didn't take your height into account. How tall are you?

XX: Can't you just check my BIO.

BLF: He's six-feet-tall.

Instructor: And how many inches are there in six-feet.

XX: I hate math...

Instructor: 72 inches.

She begins punching some numbers into her calculator.

Instructor: The heck? Zero? That isn't right. I think my calculator is broken.

XX: Nooooo!

Dos Equis grabs the calculator and tosses it toward a window. The window doesn't break, and the calculator lands with a loud crack as it hits the tiles.

Instructor: That was unnecessary. Oh, duh! Brain fart. 144 minus 72 IS 72!

Dos Equis begins banging his head on the table while Barb collects the calculator and hands it to the instructor.

BLF: So sorry, ma'am. He's having a really bad day.

XX: So now what? Multiply 72 times 12 and divide by six opponents?

Instructor: What? No, no, relax, sir. It's simple. Divide 72 by 29. Go on. I promise it won't bite...

Reluctantly, Dos Equis punches in the digits on the calculator.

XX: 2.48.

Instructor: Oh! You know what else we forgot?

XX: (Grinding his teeth) No...(Fake smiling while grinding) What?

Instructor: Your arms!

XX: Are you a student teacher or something? Or are you just TRYING to anger me?

Instructor: How long are your arms?

XX: Oh, screw this. After I send all my opponents into a alcoholic coma, minus the alcohol, I'll stack up TWO TABLES, and bring up a STEEL CHAIR JUST IN CASE I'M NOT TALL ENOUGH! Barb! I need beer! Now!

Dos Equis jumps up on the table.

XX: I may not know math, but I know this: The drunk era is envelope you!

Student: Good luck, homey!

Dos Equis high-fives the student, grabs Barb and leaves. After a few seconds, Dos Equis pokes his head back in the door.

XX: Where IS the nearest bar?

NEXT CHAPTER: Dos Equis' Head >>

© 2009 John Leary