Cuatro Equis

Future Shock

Dos Equis and Barb L. Fish were in bed, a sheet strategically hiding Barb's bare breasts and Equis' bare beer belly. Each held their own green beer bottle.

XX: That was a good workout. My cardio is much improving since we started knocking masks.

BLF: Um, wow.

Dos Equis flexes his right arm as he moves the beer bottle to his lips.

XX: Now I'm working on my guns. This didn't happen by accident.

BLF: Yeah, obviously, it took years of...training. *Snort*

XX: If I learned anything from the Sears Tower Match at Crash, it is that I must get faster and stronger! It's too bad they don't make heavier beer bottles.

BLF: You know...you could start drinking straight out of a keg. I was looking online the other night and you can get beer kegs that weigh about 77 kilos.

XX: You are an excellent manager! It won't be long until I'm challenging for the Television Title once again! How is your training going? Have you mastered the rana?

BLF: Just about.

XX: It's really simple. I'll distract the referee, then all you have to do is climb up to the top rope and nail my groggy opponents with the rana. You'll make the crowd cheer and become a role model for girls.

BLF: Awesome. BANG, BANG, BANGBANGBANG!

BANG, BANG, BANGBANGBANG!

XX: That sounds familiar...

BLF: Somebody's banging on the door. I better get dressed.

XX: Maybe they'll go away. BANG, BANG, BANGBANGBANG!

BANG, BANG, BANGBANGBANG!

The camera aims toward the door so our luchadors in love can throw on some clothes. After a few seconds, Dos Equis heads to the door wearing a yellow T-shirt and a pair of black sweatpants. Dos Equis looks through the peephole, but quickly pulls back and shakes his head, as if his eyes couldn't believe what he had just seen. Quickly, he puts his head against the door again and looks out into the hallway.

XX: Barb...I'm in here, right?

BLF: Of course you're in here. X, did you take something?

XX: Have you ever heard of mirrored peepholes?

BLF: Nope. Seriously, are you on something?

XX: The floor?

BLF: Oh, you're a riot.

XX: It's just... BANG, BANG, BANGBANGBANG!

BANG, BANG, BANGBANGBANG!

Dos Equis pulls the safety latch free and opens the door. In the hallway is a man wearing a yellow T-shirt, a pair of black sweatpants, and the same luchador mask Dos Equis is wearing.

XX: It's me.

BLF: The hell?

XX IN HALLWAY: Hola, yo.

XX IN ROOM: ¿Hola?

XX IN HALLWAY: I…am…you.

XX IN ROOM: U? I'm Dos Equis!

XX IN HALLWAY: No, you misunderstand. I am YOU.

XX IN ROOM: (Pointing at himself with his thumbs) X. Say, Barb. Wouldn't it be funny if he was UU? We could find VV and WW and make a stable.

XX IN HALLWAY: God, I was so stupid.

XX IN ROOM: Hey, don't be so hard on yourself, amigo.

XX IN HALLWAY: Dos Equis…I am Dos Equis.

XX IN ROOM: Que?

XX IN HALLWAY: I am you. From the future.

XX IN ROOM: Que?

XX IN HALLWAY: I have traveled back in time to alter my…our NFW future. You've really messed up things.

XX IN ROOM: I have?

BLF: X, this guy is insane. Shut the door. He isn't you. You're you.

XX IN HALLWAY: I brought beer.

XX IN ROOM: Come in, my amigo!

BLF: X! Don't let him in!

XX: Too late. He's already in.

The door shuts. Barb begins flipping on every light in the room to have a good view of Futurequis.

BLF: X, you remember the Sears Tower Match, right? When High Flyer pretended to be Impulse?

XX: Yes, it was a brilliant swerve. High Flyer is such a good heel!

BLF: What do you think THIS guy is doing?

FUTUREQUIS: Barb, I assure you that I am me. And him.

BLF: You are not. I'm not the brightest bulb in the Happy Meal, but I know you aren't him. Who are you?

XX: (Singing) Who, who. Who, who. Ah, tell me who are you?

BLF: X?

XX: Sorry.

FUTUREQUIS: I can prove I am me. Have a beer, sit down, relax.

Futurequis takes a seat in a black desk chair and uses his teeth to open a bottle of beer for himself. Dos Equis tries to emulate his future self, but…

XX: Oww. How did I do that?

Futurequis grabs the bottle and opens it for his past self, then hands Dos Equis the open bottle. After refusing to accept a beer, Barb stands by her man with her arms crossed over her breasts.

FUTUREQUIS: Are you looking forward to your match with Legion?

XX: Sure? He's suspended for 30 days right now, apparently. Guess I missed that video when I was at the bar…

FUTUREQUIS: Of course you did. Devil's Rejects. What a joke. You're about to get way in over your head.

BLF: Look…I know you're not him. This is just absurd. First of all, how old are you?

FUTUREQUIS: How old are you these days?

XX: ¡Veintiuno!

FUTUREQUIS: Right. I'm treinta y uno.

BLF: So, you're 10 years from the future?

FUTUREQUIS: That's right. Because I'm 31. Careful, don't burn out all your brains cells at once. So, what's so absurd?

BLF: First off, how about your voice? You don't sound anything like Dos Equis. You don't have the Luchador accent!

FUTUREQUIS: Oh. Well, I've spent the last three years or so in a FEMA concentration camp in the Austin area.

BLF: A FEMA camp?

FUTUREQUIS: Add in years of drinking, and that explains why I don't sound a thing like you.

BLF: Yeah, I'm sure you're not trying to play us at all for your own gains.

XX: Barb! Why do you think so little of future me?

BLF: I don't believe in time travel. How about the fact that you're causing a paradox right now by altering your own future? Don't you worry about that?

FUTUREQUIS: Barb, have you seen what your government has been doing to its people in 2019? Of course you haven't. We're slaves. And I could have been so much more and avoided it, if not for being a lazy drunk in my past! So don't question me, b!tch!

XX: Hey! Hey! I'm starting to get a little suspicious myself now. I've never called her a b!tch.

FUTUREQUIS: Well, yeah. You've only been together for a couple months. Just wait until next year.

XX: What happens next year?

FUTUREQUIS: Why should I tell you that now? You don't even believe I'm you.

Barb steps toward Futurequis and grabs his beer.

BLF: Listen, asshole, get out of our room. Now.

Futurequis grabs the bottle back and stands up.

FUTUREQUIS: No.

BLF: Look! He's taller than you.

FUTUREQUIS: I was tortured. On a rack. A human torture rack, if you will. By some evil guy named Lex.

XX: Lex? Oh, this sounds bad.

FUTUREQUIS: His arm was made of steel. I think he was part cyborg.

BLF: Oh, come on! Why are you still listening to him?

XX: He has beer?

BLF: How about the fact that his hair is blood red? Your hair is brown, X.

FUTUREQUIS: FEMA did that. I was in the "red" camp. They dyed everyone's hair different colors to keep track of us. In addition to this.

Futurequis turns over his forearm to reveal a UPC code tattoo.

FUTUREQUIS: They also implanted an RFID chip behind my left eye. Our camp rebelled under my command. A few of us made it out. The other guys are trying to spread the word about what's coming, but most of them are being scoffed at. Your generation is so lazy and pathetic.

BLF: Green eyes vs. brown eyes?

FUTUREQUIS: Government did it.

XX: His story seems to check out.

BLF: What is it you want?

FUTUREQUIS: I need to mentor myself. I need to make myself into a winner in order to save mankind. And to do so, I plan to bring Cuatro Equis the Avery Everette Memorial Tag Team Championship.

XX: Cuatro Equis? I like this name!

BLF: *Sighs* Of course you do.

FUTUREQUIS: Excellent. We begin our road to the gold in Cleveland.

Futurequis gets up, leaving the rest of the beer for Barb and Dos Equis, apparently, and heads for the door.

FUTUREQUIS: Be ready. Tomorrow. High noon.

XX: I'll be high at noon!

Futurequis opens the door, pulls out a pair of sunglasses and puts them on.

FUTUREQUIS: I'll be back.

Door closes. Fade.

NEXT CHAPTER: High Noon >>

© 2009 John Leary