Slamdown Town

by Maxwell Nicoll

  Ollie unwrapped the gum. He threw it into his mouth and chewed. He transformed. The now-big and -muscled Ollie waved down at Tamiko. Tamiko’s jaw dropped. So did her phone.

  “Tamiko? You okay?” he asked.

  She slowly pointed a shaky finger straight at him.

  “Giant hairy monster demon!” screamed Tamiko at the top of her lungs. Which, for Tamiko, was loud to the extreme. Ollie wouldn’t be surprised if the whole world had heard that. She bolted away, clearly wanting nothing to do with whatever was going on.

  “Tamiko, wait!”

  Ollie lurched forward and used his massive hand to scoop her up by the back of her shirt. He lifted her up to his face. Tamiko spun in the air as she swung wildly at him.

  “Hey, put me down,” she demanded. “I’m ranked first, second, and third in the Ninja Kitten online leaderboards, and I am not afraid to kick your butt!”

  She squirmed and threw a lame swing at Ollie’s chest.

  “Ow!” she yelled, nursing her arm. “Jeez, what are you made of? Bricks?!”

  Despite all her struggles, she could not wriggle free of Ollie’s bubblegum iron grip.

  “Would you cool it, Tamiko? You’re gonna get us caught.”

  “It knows my name! What did you do with my friend? Is he inside you? Did you eat him? Don’t eat me okay?! I swear I don’t taste good,” pleaded Tamiko. “But I can get you other kids to eat. Plump, juicy ones that are way better tasting than I am!”

  Ollie sighed. “Tamiko! It’s me! When I chew this gum, I grow big! And when I spit it out, I shrink back to me. See?!” He spat the gum back into his hand and he shrunk.

  Tamiko slipped from his deflating grip and fell to the ground. She breathed heavily, her eyes thick with disbelief. Then, acceptance. Then, wonder.

  “That guy in the photo you sent. That was you?” she asked.

  “I wasn’t making it up,” he answered.

  “This is Professor Pain’s already-been-chewed gum?” Tamiko’s eyes shimmered with excitement, as if truly seeing the gum for the first time.

  “Yes.”

  “The same Professor Pain’s gum that Hollis gifted you yesterday?”

  “Yes.”

  She paused. She seemed to be struggling with what she had seen. She kept shaking her head and blinking rapidly, as if trying to see if she’d wake up. He couldn’t blame her.

  “Whoa.” Her face lit up, full of wonder. “That is the coolest thing I’ve ever seen.”

  “You wanna try it?” he asked.

  Several seconds passed. Her still-open jaw slowly closed.

  “Umm. I’m going to pass. You know I’m weird about eating food that has fallen on the floor, and that thing looks like it’s spent thirty years on the floor.”

  He tossed the gum back into his mouth and transformed again.

  “I gotta see something.”

  He ran over to the pull-up bar. Earlier that year, during the school fitness exam, Ollie had been able to do only one and a half pull-ups. Okay, one and a quarter.

  The worst in his class.

  He leapt into the air, wrapped his palms around the bar, and pulled himself up.

  One. Two. Three.

  And then he proceeded to do forty-seven more.

  “Fifty!” shouted Tamiko. “I think that’s a new school record!”

  As he heaved himself up for the final pull-up, the bar sagged and snapped under his weight. He fell to the floor and landed on his feet. The bar might have been done, but he wasn’t yet. He ran over to the rock-climbing wall.

  He’d never been able to reach the bell at the top of the wall. In fact, he’d never been able to reach the second foothold. He’d never been strong enough.

  He grabbed on to one rock.

  Then another and another.

  He climbed and climbed until he reached the bell at the top of the wall. He punched it with his fist. It rang, broke free of the wall, and fell to the ground.

  “That was the fastest I’ve ever seen anyone climb the rock wall!” said Tamiko. “Also, I’m not paying to fix that bar or that bell. That was all you, big guy.”

  He climbed down and did a victory lap around the gym.

  Even with Tamiko’s epic shout, they had managed not to get caught by any students or teachers yet. But he was not interested in finding out what would happen if someone noticed a big hairy dude wrecking the gym equipment. He spat out the gum. A few moments later, eleven-year-old Ollie pulled out the wrapper. He placed the gum inside.

  And that’s when he noticed what piece of paper he’d grabbed to wrap the gum in. He had tossed the neon-blue flyer on his nightstand after the match on Saturday.

  He had forgotten all about it. Until now.

  There it was, next to the doodle he had drawn of himself as a wrestler.

  NEW WRESTLER TRYOUTS

  THIS WEEK ONLY

  “Hey, Tamiko,” he said. “I have an idea.”

  CHAPTER 11

  When the school bell rang at the end of the day, Tamiko and Ollie sprinted out the door and down the steps. As usual, they did not immediately head home.

  They marched straight to Mrs. Ramirez’s tiny house.

  Mrs. Ramirez was a little old lady who lived down the block from them and had ten standard poodles. She was too old to walk them herself, so she had enlisted Ollie and Tamiko’s help.

  Each afternoon, the two friends groomed, brushed, and walked the enormous dogs. They’d hit the pavement with five dogs each and hang on for dear life as the poodles dragged them up and down the block. It was hard work, but it was better than going home and doing homework; plus, it meant Ollie got to hang out with Tamiko for a little longer each day.

  Wrestling tickets were not cheap. In fact, Linton Krackle had recently raised the entrance fee another whole dollar. Ollie didn’t know why he thought making the tickets more expensive would help sell more tickets And while his mom was the sole referee at Slamdown Town, employee discount was a phrase that Linton wasn’t familiar with.

  “Employee discount?” Linton had said with confusion when Ollie’s mom had asked. He looked up the definition on his phone and spat out his cup of watered-down bargain-brand coffee. “I pay you, don’t I? So you and your family can afford to enjoy full-price wrestling entertainment.”

  So instead, Mrs. Ramirez paid Ollie and Tamiko ten dollars each—two dollars per dog. That covered the tickets and—just barely—the snacks.

  Ollie called his mom after they’d safely returned the poodles and had their ten dollars in hand. He read over the tryouts flyer again as he waited for her to answer.

  His mom worked as a personal trainer during the day, so she didn’t always pick up. She was most likely breaking down some workout rule or another with her latest overwhelmed client who was beginning to have second thoughts about their beach-body dreams. He didn’t like lying to his mom, but he thought this was a special situation.

  She picked up.

  “Can I go to Tamiko’s for a bit and work on, uh, homework?” he asked.

  “Sounds good. Be home by supper. And no more than fifteen minutes of wrestling videos tonight, and then it’s straight to bed. Promise? No, not you,” he heard his mom tell her client. “You need to give me seventy more squats on the double!”

  He promised. He hoped he wouldn’t need wrestling videos anymore.

  He’d have the real thing now.

  Later that afternoon, Ollie stood in the back parking lot of Slamdown Town Arena. He popped the gum into his mouth, transformed, took a step forward, and tripped over his own feet. They were far bigger, and they took much larger steps, than he was used to.

  “Look out below!” yelled Ollie as he crashed into some nearby bushes. Leaves and berries went flying all over the sidewalk, and a bird who was nesting peacefully in one of the bushes buzzed angrily around his head. He ran around the parking lot awkwardly, his massive legs pounding the pavement and his mighty arms swatting at the bird. Changing back and forth from an eleven-year-old kid to a giant wr
estler would take some getting used to.

  Once he steadied himself, he approached the door—not his usual door, the one all the arena patrons used, but the side entrance.

  He had discovered the side entrance with Hollis years ago. They’d tried to sneak in a couple times when they were short on the admissions fee, but arena staff always chased them away and informed their mom. Those dudes were tattletales.

  He and Hollis weren’t trying to do anything bad. They’d just wanted to see what happened behind the scenes. They’d always joked that backstage was an ancient colosseum where the wrestlers would practice wrestling rock columns like in those old stop-motion movies, or maybe a futuristic training facility with robotic wrestlers who said things such as “Destroy all humans!”

  It had been a few months since they’d joked about that.

  Ollie ran his hand along the sign that was painted on the door.

  WRESTLERS ONLY

  “Nah, I can’t make it,” replied Tamiko when he had asked her earlier to tag along. “I got dinner with my grandma, and I never miss meat loaf night. If I did, my grandma would serve me for next week’s dinner. Besides, the arena won’t just let some kid run around backstage. Remember?”

  True. The farthest either of them had ever gotten was when Tamiko made it a full four steps in before arena security escorted them out. Even Hollis was impressed.

  “But what if I mess it up?” He bit his lip. Tamiko was the one who laughed in the face of danger. Without her there, what would he do if he got into trouble?

  Tamiko placed her hands on Ollie’s shoulders and gave them a reassuring squeeze.

  “Listen, Ollie. You know I’d wanna be there, but this is a solo mission. Wrestlers only. I’m not a wrestler. But you are.”

  “You’re right,” sighed Ollie.

  Now that he was here at Slamdown Town and looked the part of a wrestler, there was no one to stop him. Nothing standing in his way. It was all on Ollie now.

  All he had to do was walk through the door labeled WRESTLERS ONLY.

  He took a deep breath and stepped inside.

  Ollie entered a dimly lit hallway. The overhead lights flickered on and off. A water pipe spat and leaked muddy water. The ground was carpeted in scuff marks and bronzer.

  Not quite the grand entrance he had imagined.

  He turned the corner and collided with a wall of muscle and anger.

  “Watch where you’re going, punk!” yelled the burly wrestler he had just walked into. He noticed an unmistakable lightning bolt tattoo across her face.

  His heart leapt up into his throat.

  “Um, holy cow. Wow. You’re . . .” Ollie struggled to talk. “You’re The Bolt!”

  “Yeah, I am. And you’re in my way,” she snapped.

  Ollie was at a loss for words. Here he was, standing in the wrestlers-only section of Slamdown Town, having an actual conversation with one of his favorite wrestlers.

  “You hear me?” she grunted. “I said beat it, or else!”

  Or else what?! Ollie couldn’t believe his luck. The Bolt? Threatening me?

  His mind raced with the possibilities.

  “What are you gonna do? Tesla Coil? Zap Attack? Thunder Knee?!” he asked.

  “No. Worse,” she muttered, taking a step forward.

  “Worse?!” For a moment, Ollie thought he might faint from excitement.

  The only move worse than any of those was . . . Oh, no.

  “Lightning Strike,” said The Bolt as she leapt into the air, spun around, and used the momentum to roundhouse kick Ollie in the chest. He was sent flying back toward the door he’d just walked in. The Bolt screamed and sprinted toward him with both fists raised.

  Ollie, having seen this move a thousand times before, knew that lightning did strike twice. In fact, it struck dozens of times—in the form of rapid-fire fists to the face.

  “I’m gonna punch that gum right outta your mouth!”

  Ollie focused on keeping his mouth shut tight as her fists connected again and again with his cheeks, until the storm finally passed. He lay on the floor, looking up at The Bolt as she stood over him, fists still clenched.

  Ollie saw stars. This was the greatest day of his life. He wouldn’t wash his face ever again, no matter how many times his mom told him to do it before bed.

  He chomped down on the gum, which he’d stored in his left cheek for safekeeping.

  “Good luck today, you big chew,” she said. “You’re gonna need it.”

  The Bolt pushed past Ollie and stormed out to the parking lot.

  “This is the best day ever!” he declared to no one. He wished Tamiko could have seen this. He’d be sure to commit every incident to memory to share with her later.

  He continued down the hallway until he reached the locker room.

  “Best day ever” was about to get better. Because as he entered the Slamdown Town locker room, Ollie found himself surrounded by a treasure trove of the most amazing, spectacular, and jaw-dropping wrestling artifacts. He felt a dizzying sensation, as if his brain were melting. Then the adrenaline took over. And he shot forward for a better look.

  You gotta be kidding me, he thought as he approached.

  There, sitting in a locker directly in front of him, was the actual stinger Queen Bee had used to take down Rey Rocket after Queen Bee discovered Rey was allergic to bees. Then he spotted what lay next to it. He froze.

  “No way!” he whispered. “Is that—”

  “Oy, mate!” croaked a voice behind him.

  Ollie froze. He knew that voice. He spun on his heel, lockers temporarily forgotten. There, before his very eyes, was Reggie Highwayman.

  “Biscuits and gravy! You’re the British Terror. No way,” exclaimed Ollie.

  “Excitable bloke, this one,” Reggie commented, wincing. “Inside voices, mate.”

  “You’re even flying the colors,” Ollie said, awed, as he reached out to touch the patriotic scarf around Reggie’s neck. Then he proceeded to rub it against his face. “So cool. And it smells just like my mom’s tea.”

  “Keep yer mitts off the ol’ Union Jack,” grunted Reggie.

  Reggie freed his scarf from Ollie’s grip and walked away, muttering.

  I got to touch Reggie Highwayman’s scarf. Ollie knew he must have been a strange sight to behold: a towering wrestler practically drooling over everything and everyone. Sure, Ollie was a huge, overly muscled wrestler now. But he was also still an eleven-year-old kid standing backstage alongside his lifelong legends. Ollie could hardly believe what he was experiencing. It felt like a surreal dream. A smelly, surreal dream.

  Because Ollie smelled something fishy.

  Fishy like when Hollis would jam seaweed down his swim trunks at the beach, or when his mom made him a tuna fish sandwich for lunch.

  “Big Tuna!” he exclaimed.

  Big Tuna, staying true to his name, was both large and smelly. Ollie squealed, as much as a huge wrestler with a voice as gravelly as a mountain can squeal, and stared. He knew he shouldn’t—and his nose begged him to walk away—but he couldn’t stop. Big Tuna, the terror of the sea, stared right back. And if those eyes could talk, they would have said to get lost, quit staring, and that it was time to get out of the water, because swimming hours had officially ended.

  But Ollie just kept right on gawking. Big Tuna snorted, pushed past him, and knocked his shoulder into Ollie on the way out. Ollie, still getting used to his massive size and weight, stumbled to maintain his balance. But he didn’t care.

  He’d officially taken a blow, sorta, from Big Tuna! He had to physically think about not smiling so hard. He closed his lips, furrowed his brow, and tried to look tough.

  Just keep chewing. Just keep chewing.

  Ollie spotted a long line of wrestlers who he didn’t recognize. He guessed that had to be the line for the tryouts. So he took one final look around the locker room.

  He hoped it wasn’t the first and only time he’d get to see it.

  CHAPTER 12
>
  Ollie moved to take his place in the tryout line. He realized this was the first time in his life he could actually see over the head of someone standing in front of him.

  He looked around the room at his competition. Well, what passed for his competition. The hopefuls gathered were wrestler wannabes. And judging by their strange wrestler gimmicks (a woman in an anteater outfit named, yep, The Anteater, was chatting excitedly with a set of twins who were wrapped head-to-toe in tinfoil and who called themselves The Leftovers) and the general lack of any athletic build (a guy with a toilet seat around his neck and a plunger in hand who proclaimed himself The Flusher was having a stare-down with a fellow in snazzy shorts named Toot Toot McSnazzy Shorts), these “wrestlers” were far from top-tier talent. In fact, they might not even be bottom-tier talent.

  This should be easy, thought Ollie. Right . . . ?

  A wave of uncertainty washed over him. What if he didn’t make it? Or worse, what if someone found out that he wasn’t actually a wrestler?

  He chewed the gum so hard that he thought he might break a tooth.

  After a few minutes, an attendant arrived and ushered them into the arena. Ollie noticed a few important people wearing suits sitting in the stands. At least, he assumed they were important, because only important people would bother to wear suits in the arena. In the center of the suits was the biggest (metaphorically anyway) suit of all: Linton Krackle, the greasy, stocky CEO and owner of Slamdown Town.

  The flickering lights from the arena bounced off Linton’s polished, balding head. His bushy mustache rested on his upper lip and danced when he spoke, and his custom-made suit wrapped around him like a boa constrictor.

  Ollie signed important-looking papers that the attendant blabbed on and on about—something about waiving his rights in case he got injured and that Slamdown Town was in no way responsible for anything, ever.

  “Yeah, whatever. Is it time to wrestle yet?” he asked.

  “Okay, listen up,” interrupted Linton Krackle to the group of hopeful wrestlers. “We’re looking for the best of the best. The type of wrestler who will instill fear into the hearts of their opponents. The type of wrestler who will instill so much excitement in fans that they’ll wet themselves and need to buy an official Slamdown Town diaper at the souvenir shop. Most importantly, though, we need the type of wrestler who will instill money into the pocket of their CEO.”