Slamdown Town

by Maxwell Nicoll

  The wrestlers mumbled in agreement.

  “Okay,” said Linton. “Time is money and I ain’t paying the bill. Let’s kick this off. You in the lobster suit. And, uh, big guy chomping on the gum. Get in the ring.”

  Ollie looked at the guy in the lobster suit.

  “Name’s Larry Lobster,” the guy said. He extended a friendly claw. Ollie shook it.

  “Name’s Ollie . . . uhh . . .”

  “Pleased to meet you, Ollie Uhh!”

  Ollie and Larry Lobster made their way toward the ring. Above them, the very important business people watched closely while taking notes on their laptops.

  The other wannabe wrestlers took seats in the front row.

  Ollie climbed over the ropes and walked around the ring. He had imagined this moment his entire life. Now, with the mat beneath his feet, it felt like a dream.

  But it wasn’t. It was real.

  “Somebody pinch me,” said Ollie out loud to himself.

  “Okay!” said Larry Lobster.

  Ding, ding, ding!

  The bell sounded.

  Larry Lobster whacked Ollie on the back of the head with his lobster claw. Luckily, since Larry was in a giant lobster suit, the claw had a lot of padding. The blow didn’t do much of anything.

  Ollie spun around and grappled with Larry. The big, padded suit made it hard to grab on to anything. So every time Ollie thought he had him, Larry wriggled away.

  But Ollie didn’t give up.

  He ran straight toward the ropes, bounced off them, and used the momentum to fling himself back toward Larry Lobster.

  This time, he connected.

  He secured a front facelock on poor Larry Lobster, hooked a meaty arm under his left leg, hoisted him up and over his head, and sent him straight back down in a blistering fisherman’s driver.

  Larry Lobster was right on time for a face-to-face meeting with the mat.

  He hit it and flopped around like a fish out of water.

  Ollie saw his chance to pin his opponent, and he didn’t hesitate.

  He threw his body into the air and slammed directly on top of Larry.

  Ding, ding, ding!

  The ringside bell sounded out his first victory in the ring. Wrestling staff rushed up to remind Larry Lobster that Slamdown Town was not responsible for his injuries. And that his car had been double-parked and towed.

  The matches that followed were some of the least entertaining matches Ollie had ever seen. The ragtag pairs barely managed to pull off the simplest of moves. One wrestler, Snackie Jackie, managed to knock herself out with her own haymaker. The Human Paper Clip stopped mid-match to take an “important call” from his mom about what to order for dinner. The Flusher didn’t even make it into the ring before tripping and rolling his ankle.

  I got this, thought Ollie.

  After all the tryouts were finished, Linton had a discussion with the people next to him. Ollie did not understand what they could be talking about. He had won, after all. Did this mean he was now officially a wrestler? No one else had won as quickly as he had.

  “All right, listen up!” yelled Linton from the stands after a few moments. “Bubble gum, you’ve got size, you’ve got guts, and you’ve got strength. Which is more than I can say for these other basement dwellers. The rest of you, get outta here.”

  “Thanks.” The word emerged as a squeak even with Ollie’s new, deep “adult” voice. The crowd of hopeful wrestlers, dreams dashed, mumbled and grumbled as they shuffled out.

  “But you’ve also got a long way to go if you wanna be a professional wrestler. You don’t have a costume. You don’t have smack talk. And you don’t have any signature moves,” said Linton, raising a finger with each infraction. “Sure, you made dinner out of Larry Lobster, but who is Larry Lobster? A real wrestler doesn’t just win; they win with style! And style wins the crowd,” he added, gesturing to the empty arena. “So you tell me: Why should I reach into my pocket and pay you to wrestle for Slamdown Town?”

  Ollie hadn’t thought of that. He had figured that winning the tryout was most important. He hadn’t considered that how he won would matter more.

  “I’ll, uh, wrestle for free,” he offered. Besides, he already had an after-school job.

  “You’re hired,” said Linton. Behind him, the suits nodded their agreement. “What do we call you?”

  “What do you call me?”

  “Yeah. What’s your name?”

  “My name?” Ollie thought for a moment. What was it that The Bolt had called me?

  “Call me Big Chew.”

  “Welcome to Slamdown Town, Big Chew.”

  CHAPTER 13

  As soon as the tryouts were over, Ollie sprinted over to Tamiko’s house. When he told her he had been hired, she screamed and did victory laps around her basement.

  “Quiet down there!” yelled Tamiko’s mom from the top of the stairs.

  Her mom, a professor, was grading papers upstairs while her dad, a professional napper, slept on the couch. Tamiko’s parents didn’t like when she and Ollie yelled or played too loudly. Tamiko found it annoying, but Ollie didn’t mind. Hanging out at her house meant he didn’t need to keep his eyes out for random older-brother attacks.

  He told her everything, from encountering The Bolt in the hallway all the way to when he dramatically announced his wrestler name as Big Chew.

  “Do you like it?” he asked.

  “Like it? I love it!”

  Ollie was relieved. Tamiko always came up with the best video game character names. She even went so far as to give them their own fictional backstories. There was Diamondz McThievey, the jewel thief with a (stolen) heart of gold; Oaken-bear Manypants, the shape-shifting wizard with a keen eye for adventure and fashion; and Sensei Kitty Litter, the feline martial arts master who flexed her claws of vengeance following a betrayal by her apprentice. He knew Tamiko could be particular, and he was happy to have passed her test.

  “So, who would you want to wrestle first?” asked a breathless Tamiko. “Brad Baby Stephens? Lil’ Old Granny?”

  Ollie paused for dramatic effect. “Werewrestler.”

  “Ollie . . . ,” she said. “I get it, but . . .”

  “Don’t you want to see me avenge Brash Banshee?”

  “Come on. Of course I want to see you avenge your mom, Ollie. But it’s Werewrestler.”

  “Someone has to teach that bully a lesson. Why not me?” he demanded to know.

  “That’s crazy talk, Ollie. He’d destroy you. You may be able to turn into someone who looks like a wrestler, but that doesn’t mean you are one, or that you can take on the reigning champ. Think of all those wrestlers who’ve trained for years to defeat Werewrestler—and all with a zero percent success rate, I might add.”

  Tamiko’s phone buzzed. She scooped it up.

  “Um, why is Slamdown Town calling me?” she asked.

  “Oh.” He knew he had forgotten to mention something important. “They said I needed a manager, and I panicked, so I gave them your number.”

  “You did what?!” yelled Tamiko.

  “Volume. Lower it,” called Tamiko’s mom from upstairs.

  Ollie lowered his voice. “Yeah. They said I needed a manager to arrange the fights and stuff. It all happened so fast and was kind of a blur. But—the phone! Hurry, pick it up.”

  “Okay. First: You should have asked,” answered Tamiko, blowing a loose strand of hair out of her face. “And second: I’m eleven years old. I can’t be a manager.”

  “Please, Tamiko,” he begged. “My wrestling career depends on it!”

  She considered this. “All right. Quit your crying. I’ll do it. On one condition.”

  The phone in her hand continued to buzz.

  “Anything. Whatever it is, I’ll do it.” He really needed her to pick up that call.

  Tamiko turned her full attention to Ollie. There was no joking around in the look she gave him. “Promise me that we’re still a team on this.”

  “What do
you mean?” asked Ollie, confused.

  “Sure, you can change into some crazy magical wrestler now. Which, yeah, that’s so awesome. But, like, we’re best buds. We gotta do this together. Just like always!”

  Ollie was shocked. Was Tamiko jealous that he had found the gum and not her? Or upset that she couldn’t go to the tryouts? He hadn’t noticed her acting any differently, but then again, he had been kind of distracted. “Of course. You’re my best friend.”

  She looked relieved. “And also your manager!”

  Tamiko grinned, picked up the phone, and put it on speaker.

  “This is Ms. Manager,” said Tamiko in a super-serious, super-deep voice.

  “Ms. Manager?!” mouthed Ollie. “That’s the best you could think of?!”

  Tamiko waved him off and continued. “Yes, Ms. Manager, and I’m an extremely important businesswoman with lots of famous wrestlers to manage. Who is this?”

  “Well, uh, Ms. Manager. Linton Krackle here. I’m sure I need no introduction,” began Linton on the other end of the line, who then went on to introduce himself in great detail anyway.

  “You know, the rich, extremely talented, and also handsome owner of Slamdown Town,” said Linton in a tone dripping with self-admiration. “Mom always said my older brother was the one destined for greatness. Well, does he own a semi-successful wrestling arena with a less-than-semi-talented lineup of stars?”

  “No?” guessed Tamiko.

  “No, he doesn’t,” confirmed Linton. “All he’s got is his stupid medical degree and his long list of celebrity patients. I sure showed him. And he thinks I forgot about that five bucks I lent him in middle school. Well, let me tell you something about compound interest—”

  His voice sounded even slimier over the phone. Linton’s tone reminded Ollie of the time he had gone with his mom to the used-car dealership. The car dealer had tried to make Ollie feel like he was his friend, but Ollie could tell that it was all an act to get his mom to buy a more expensive car. That’s kind of how Ollie felt every time he saw Linton Krackle.

  Like it was all an act.

  “Listen, Linton,” said Tamiko, cutting him off. “About Big Chew’s first match . . .”

  “Straight to business. I like that.” Linton smacked his lips. “Newbies don’t necessarily bring in the crowds. Which means I don’t make bank. And I love making bank. So we’re gonna ease the big guy into it. Make him all warm and fuzzy for the fans. And then they’ll pay top dollar to see him dance. That’s why he’s gonna face Bertha Blunder on Saturday.”

  Ollie looked at Tamiko. Bertha Blunder, whose claim to fame was failing her way to victory, was a decent opponent, but she was no champion. Bertha wasn’t the goal. Ollie realized that Tamiko could actually stop him from facing Werewrestler if she wanted. If she folded now, Big Chew would be taking on Bertha Blunder. He held his breath.

  “We want Werewrestler,” announced Tamiko.

  Tamiko had to cover the speaker on her phone to stifle the laughter coming from Linton. “Oh, man. You are something else, Ms. Manager. Very funny.”

  It took Tamiko some time to convince Linton that she was, in fact, very serious. And then he was even more confused.

  “Listen,” started Linton. “I get that Big Chew wants to wrestle the best of the best. But even if I wanted to pair him with Werewrestler—and believe me, I don’t—I can’t.”

  “But you’re Linton Krackle. The CEO and owner of Slamdown Town. Aren’t you, like, the most powerful man alive?” asked Tamiko.

  “Flattery will get you everywhere,” replied an amused Linton. “Except in the ring with Werewrestler. Guy’s a freak. You don’t challenge him. He challenges you.”

  “Easy peasy. So how do we get Werewrestler to challenge us?”

  “You drive a hard bargain,” said Linton after a long pause. “I can see why Big Chew picked you to be his manager. You want the best? Then your guy’s got to prove himself and start winning some matches. If he proves himself, I’m sure Werewrestler will come howling. What do you say we start with the crown prince of fashion himself? Gorgeous Gordon Gussett.”

  Tamiko put her hand over the speaker. “What do you think?” she asked.

  “Whatever it takes to get to Werewrestler,” Ollie answered.

  She uncovered the phone. “Yep. Bring him on!”

  “Your funeral. Or rather, Big Chew’s. He’s got Gorgeous this Saturday.”

  And with that, Linton ended the call.

  Ollie and Tamiko erupted into relieved laughter.

  “Keep it down, down there!” yelled Tamiko’s mom from upstairs.

  “Sorry, Mom!”

  “You’re the most amazing best friend ever,” said Ollie.

  “Tell me something I don’t already know.”

  “I just have to kick Gorgeous’s gorgeous butt, and then I’m one step closer to facing Werewrestler.”

  “Hold on there,” said Tamiko in her Ms. Manager voice. “Sure, you got the fight. But now you gotta start training.”

  “You don’t think I can beat Gorgeous?”

  “I’m saying a level one warrior can’t take on Kragthar the Destructor and live. And you’re at, like, level zero right now. Barely even pushed Start to begin the game.”

  She had a good point. He would need to work on his wrestler. Even Linton had barely let him join. He had strength, sure, but no costume, no smack talk, and no finisher.

  “Well, you know . . .” Ollie flashed his friend a smile. “It takes both of us to bring down Kragthar. I know we can do this, too, if we work together.”

  “You’re right! Let’s level up, Big Chew!” shouted Tamiko.

  CHAPTER 14

  The next morning, Ollie got dressed in record time. He paid no attention to how he looked. Then he stretched out on the couch. He had a little time to chill before the school bus arrived, so he pulled up part one of Professor Pain’s Anyone Can Be a Wrestler video series on the family tablet.

  “Hey there, ’rasslers,” said Professor Pain, his long, oiled hair blowing in the wind. He was standing outside the entrance to Slamdown Town, back when it had been new and shiny. The arena from the glory days was hardly recognizable compared to what it had become now.

  “Pull up a beanbag chair, friends, because today’s topic is all about the first important part of being a ’rassler: your outfit. Let’s start off by taking a look at a true masterpiece. Mine.”

  Professor Pain’s outfit was both professional and painful. A tie dangled between an open suit jacket with the sleeves ripped off. Choosing not to even bother with a shirt, he wore an XXXXL pair of school-uniform pants that were held up by a leather belt with a skull buckle. And he kept a ruler in his back pocket for sizing up his opponents.

  “A wrestling outfit should be the embodiment of your ’rassler. A great costume will work with you, not against ya. Want to stand out amongst the crowd? Your outfit will help you do that. Want to be an icon? Make a fashion statement for the ages.”

  Ollie watched as Professor Pain walked into a large closet full of glittering robes and wrestler singlets. “Some people say a picture is worth a thousand words. Well, friend, let me tell you something. That’s a lot of words, and we don’t have that kind of time. Crowds want to see style. So instead of talking, I’m gonna show you some stylish costumes.”

  A slideshow with floating pictures set to club music showed Professor Pain modeling various costumes, including a chicken suit, a barbarian, and a can of refried beans.

  “Now, each one of these says something different,” announced Professor Pain over the video. “One says that I’m super tough and intimidating, one says that I’m a little puny wimp, and one says that beans are the true musical fruit. I found that one out the hard way.”

  Ollie laughed. He and Professor Pain shared the same brand of humor—humor that Hollis now thought was immature.

  “Point is, the outfit is the first part of your ’rassler that people are gonna notice. You can use your outfit to say whatever you want a
bout the kind of ’rassler you want to be. Before you say a word of smack talk or raise your fist, your outfit says, Hey. This is me.”

  “Give me that,” interrupted Hollis.

  Hollis grabbed the tablet right out of Ollie’s hands.

  “Hey, not cool. I was watching something,” he said.

  “It’s an emergency, Ollie. I need to catch up on Sasquatch Mysteries. I missed last night’s episode, and if I don’t watch it, I won’t be able to talk with my friends about it. And if I can’t talk to my friends about it, then what will I talk about?!”

  Hollis headed toward the kitchen. Ollie leapt off the couch in pursuit. Only, his foot caught his shoelace. Ollie thought people tripping over their untied shoelaces was an urban legend. A myth his mom spread to get him to tie his shoes every morning. But the mouthful of carpet he ate after falling to the floor proved him wrong.

  “You are the worst.” Hollis laughed, doubling over. “And I didn’t even have to do anything this time. You make it too easy.”

  Hollis left and took the tablet with him.

  Later, Ollie brought his bad mood with him all the way to the bus. He plopped down in the seat next to Tamiko and let out a long, exasperated groan.

  He sounded kinda like a sasquatch from Sasquatch Mysteries.

  “Well, hello to you, too, Mr. Sunshine,” joked Tamiko.

  “One day I’m gonna beat him.”

  Tamiko glanced up from her phone. “Who, Hollis? Forget your brother. We got bigger problems,” said Tamiko. With her free hand, she pointed her finger right in Ollie’s face. “And by we, I mean you. And by big problems, I mean Gorgeous problems.”

  He already knew he was in trouble. He had no costume for Big Chew. And he had challenged the one wrestler who had been recognized by no less than five fashion designers for his ravishing outfits. Gorgeous Gordon Gussett did not simply walk a runway. He commanded it. And Ollie knew that Gorgeous’s runway of choice was the wrestling ring.