After the Reefer Madness

Trey Vincent's eyes slowly opened and he saw a beautiful, angelic face sleeping beside him. He flinched at the sight, not expecting it. He squinted at first, trying to clear his eyes to see who was with him. Waking up with strange chicks was nothing new to TV, but he didn't even know how the hell he had ended up with her. Vincent lifted up the blankets and looked her body up and down. She was about 5-7, and after having a look-see, she obviously wasn't a natural blonde.

'Gat damn, a fat chick.'

He let the covers fall down.

Then he lifted them up again.

'Not bad anyway. A wise man once said even fat chicks need lovin'. And all her shit is in the RIIIIGHT places.'

He sat up and pulled the covers down. Vincent grabbed a pair of black sweatpants and pulled them on before getting out of bed. The blonde chick stirred a bit and turned over onto her stomach. Or her breasts, depending on which you'd prefer to imagine. I'd go with the latter myself. But why would you care what a detached narrator thinks anyway.

*Ahem*

Vincent got up. The day was cloudy outside of his penthouse window. There was a foul taste in his mouth, kind of, metallic and kind of disgusting. After letting out a nice belch, followed quickly by a grumbling, bumbling, stumbling fart, he headed for the bathroom to rid his body of the sweet, sweet alcohol he must have consumed the night before.

'What the hell, did somebody have a fire last night?' he asked as his the musical sound of urine hitting the toilet echoed throughout the forest green-tiled bathroom. Vincent began sniffing, trying to find the source of the smoke. He then sniffed his fingers, but that smelled like his companion.

There was a vague recollection about a show.

And an announce table....

A card game...

And some other guys...

'Whoa whoa whoa. Good God, what have I done? Oh wait...no, no. I slept with a girl. That ain't it. But what the fuck did I....'

There was laughter...

He clearly remembered his PIW debut. Unveiling himself.

But then....

As Vincent exited the bathroom, walking a little blindly, he tripped over something on the floor. He didn't fall, just tripped and recovered his balance quite easily.

Vincent looked down and picked up...

A title belt.

Three initials: BOB.

The title? THE ONLY WORLD TITLE THAT MATTERS.

'Oh....right. Whenever weird shit happens, BOB's to blame.'

Vincent went back over to the bed and lifted up the covers again to look over his latest conquest's body.

'I'd do that even if I was sober.'

After dropping the covers on her naked body, Vincent spied a table full of empty alcohol bottles on a table in the TV room. Vincent went out and looked over the bottles. Beer. Beer. Beer. Mike's. Beer. Kahlua. Beer. Jack Daniels. Beer. Mike's. Beer. Sublime. Beer. Bacardi. Beer. Captain Morgan. Beer. Remy Martin. Beer. Beer. And a few bottles of beer too.

He picked up one of the bottles. 'Roederer Cristal. Where did that come from? Friggin' Studnuts and his champagne parties.'

[Who is Studnuts? Why, Steve Studnuts. Fellow elite sports entertainer, ya dig? Currently helping Vincent invade the federation known as Brawlers On a Budget. iAd 4 apathy!]

The phone rang.

'Hello? Seth?'

[Who is Seth? Why, Seth Harker. Fellow elite sports entertainer and MST co-star. Also currently helping Vincent invade the BOB federation while also entertaining in Blood, Sweat & Chairs Wrestling. iAd 4 apathy!]

'What's up bro? You did what? With who? Wow. Hey. Why do I smell like smoke? What happened again? Ohhhh, right.....I'll have to find a tape of that. The transcript is online? Really? Where?' Vincent walked over to his computer by the window in the TV room and banged the keyboard to shut the dancing naked redhead screensaver. On his desktop was a lovely photo of some blonde girl on a bed showing off her pleasure zone. Vincent clicked on the icon to go online and headed to http://www.bobwrestling.com.

'42 title changes? No matches? Now that's entertainment.' He clicked on the link to the show and began scrolling down. 'Technical difficulties, a.k.a., Kurt Angel just got us stoned!... Oh, man I remember now. This is a pisser..... Are we over the border yet? Pffffft! If I was drinking something I would so spit it out right now. Man, I still have to sports entertain that guy. Can't wait.

'Hey, did I tell you about PIW?...Did you see the show? No? Why not!...Whatever. It was gold. I showed up as the masked man again and punked out Italy and Sharc, just like I was paid to do. Yeah, that mysterious person who hired me to make their lives hell sure has got their money's worth. Well, word I'm hearing is that at Evil Intentions, the PIW pay-per-view, Sharc and Italy are blabbering about wanting Trey Vincent to carry their asses to a five-star sports entertainment match as only Trey Vincent can do. Well, Trey Vincent is gonna be on the pay-per-view. Trey Vincent does what Trey Vincent wants. You know that though. So if that triple threat match happens, or handicap match, whatever they wanna call it, Trey Vincent has got a surprise for both those guys....Right. So, I got some chick here I think I'd like to bang a couple more times today before I toss her out on her fat ass, so catch ya later.'

Vincent hung up and headed back to his bedroom. The woman once again turned over, this time onto her back. The blankets fell down under her medium-sized breasts as she turned. She opened her eyes and looked up at Vincent.

'Time to pop the ratings,' Vincent said.

NEXT CHAPTER: The most entertaining there is, was or ever will be....>>

©2002 John Leary