The Right Kind of Stupid

by John Oakes

  Cody had never performed in any of the shows, ever since that first football game with the Tiny Tacklers. It just wasn't his thing. But if this was the dying day of Midget Island 3000, then Cody was going to make it one hell of a last show to remember.

  Jason and Ricky entered the field house. Jason, once again aghast, held two hands before himself in appeal. "Cody? Is that...you have got to be kidding me!"

  Cody turned to Jason. "Who lacks flair now, bitch?"

  Jason's mouth worked soundlessly, before he said, "Flair? Hell Cody, you look ridiculous. I mean it's totally badass, but you look ridiculous. You can't fight in that."

  "I can."

  Ricky was laughing to himself, but trying to hide his amusement by stroking his short Fu Man Chu whiskers.

  "And what's this about you fighting with swords?" Jason asked.

  "They're wooden."

  "He could kill you with a wooden sword! Less likely, but you could kill him. I mean, shit, this ain't exactly legal."

  Cody shook his head and finished wiping the face paint off his fingers.

  "Well, don't you seem rather unconcerned for a man who is about to throw away half a million dollars...and another 84 million on top of that."

  Jason started pacing two steps one direction, two in the next. "If you go out there and lose to this guy Cody, that's it!" Jason stopped pacing and made a final motion sweeping both hands flatly in front of his neck. "All the work you've done, the work we've done...it's gonna go out the window."

  Normally, Jason's rants had a way of logically dismantling Cody's view of things. But today it only hardened his resolve.

  "Jason, you have no idea what I have to lose."

  "Listen." Jason shook his head not listening. "There is still time to back out, Code-man." Jason approached him quickly. "I bet we could go talk this out and get that deal back on the table."

  Cody looked at Ricky to gauge his reaction to all of this. "What do you think?" Cody asked him.

  Ricky shrugged, like usual, but then said matter-of-factly, "You might very well lose. Lose an awful lot."

  Cody nodded at a spot on the floor.

  "But I'm ok with that, if you are," Ricky said slowly.

  Cody looked up at Ricky who pushed his yellow glasses back brusquely and patted Jason on the shoulder. "It's almost show time."

  Jason, stricken, let Ricky walk him away, muttering curses all the while.

  After they left, Cody sat on the bench and tried to breathe easy. He folded up his own clothes and placed them back in the sack Winton had brought the costume in. He heard a knock on the shed door and turned to see Kelly in a green blouse and off-white skirt. She walked toward him and he stood to greet her.

  "Oh..." was all she could say, as she took in the tall, costumed man before her. "My oh my." She reached out a hand to feel the tartan sash. "You're committed, I'll give you that, Cody."

  Kelly looked around quickly, clapped her hands to her face and sighed musically. "My God. I am standing next to a man in a Braveheart costume who is about to go fight with a sword for the honor of his midget-themed resort for Japanese people."

  She looked up. "I have never met anyone like you, Cody Latour, nor ever will I."

  "Is that a good thing?" Cody asked.

  "I have no idea anymore," Kelly said with a bemused smile.

  "You came."

  Kelly nodded sheepishly. "A little chain-smoking bird told me."

  "Is that so?" Cody said in surprise.

  "I couldn't not be here. I mean, I think I sort of understand, maybe. But not really." Kelly twisted her hands together. "I mean, Cody, this is not a joke! But it is. I can't even believe a legitimate business operation would agree to this. And why would you risk all you've built! It's crazy! I just...I know how much this challenge means to you." She had genuine pain on her face.

  Cody kept his gaze on her, waiting until she looked him in the eyes again.

  When she did, he asked, "When did you start caring?"

  "You have a way of making people care, for better or worse. I don't know how else to put it."

  "Do you trust me, Kelly?"

  Kelly's eyes were big and a little watery. They came to life and sparkled. She reached out and grabbed his hand and held it between her own. "Mr. Latour. You are, dare I say it, a good guy. Maybe insane, but good." She breathed deeply. "Hell maybe you're even a genius of some sort."

  Cody looked to the mirror, in which he could see his reflection. "Not likely."

  "Yes," she said. He turned back to her, and she held his gaze with her glittering blue eyes. "I trust you."

  "Then trust in this, when I say that I have to go out there and fight that man, in a Braveheart costume, with a sword, for the honor of this Midget Island. Win or lose. That's the right thing to do. Anything else would be a failure."

  "There's probably no way you can make that million either way now, you know."

  "I know."

  She reached up and pulled his face into hers. She kissed him for a long moment.

  When they pulled away, Cody rubbed at the little blue patches on her face with his thumb. She laughed and wiped at misty eyes.

  "Then I guess there's only one thing left to do," she said. "Give him hell."

  Chapter Forty-Two

  Worth Every Penny

  Cody stepped out of the dimly lit field house and into the humid evening air, which was buzzing with the sound of cicadas and the two dozen resort workers selecting their seats and vantage points on the deck of the saloon. They huddled here and there, discussing and debating the meaning of the night's events and making predictions for their individual and collective futures.

  Cody couldn't feel the warmth of the cheers that greeted his arrival. He couldn't see anything but that stretch of empty, dusty street. He accepted the sword that was handed to him, but didn't see who gave it to him. He stepped slowly, tenuously to the center of the street in front of the crowd where Tagg waited, flanked by Tanaka.

  Tagg stood before him in the street, resplendent in his own set of samurai armor.

  "You no like?" Tagg asked, waving to his own armor with a flourish.

  "It just wasn't me," Cody said.

  "Well, you coulda said something. If you wanted to dress up as our favorite movie character I got a bitchin' Darth Vader costume sitting at home."

  "Darth Vader?" Cody asked. "Vader, really? You're trying to be the bad guy?"

  "I always felt Vader was under appreciated as a hero," Tagg said.

  "Hero? What are you talking about, he is one of the greatest villains of all time!"

  "Maybe he could have been, if he hadn't turned away from his power in the end! It was weakness! George Lucas ruined a perfectly good character! Just like everything else in those movies."

  "George Lucas ruined a lot of things, but he did NOT ruin Vader!" Cody said, pointing a finger at Tagg's chest.

  "Are you gonna fight or are you gonna nag me like a woman? You're wearing the dress for it I see!"

  "Okay gentlemen." Winton stepped forward. "The rules are as follows. This is a no-holds-barred contest, but there is no eye gouging and no shots to the groin. No biting, scratching, fish-hooking or small-joint manipulation."

  Cody looked to Winton.

  "That means you can't try and rip anyone's fingers off. Or ears for that matter."

  Jesus. Ripping ears off?

  "The loser will be the first fighter who yields or whose second throws in the towel. Simple as that."

  Cody saw that Tanaka was indeed holding a rolled up white towel. Cody looked to Tanaka's left and saw Jason holding a rolled up white towel as well. No danger of Jason throwing in the towel early, at least. He was in the mood to see Cody take some punishment.

  Winton looked to them. "Do you both understand and agree to these terms?"

  Both men nodded.

  "Hey, is he gonna wear that helmet?" a voice came from the crowd.

  "Yeah, why does that guy get armor?" another sounded.

  Tagg
answered with a smile. He removed his helmet and tossed it to Tanaka.

  "Would slow me down anyway. I need no protection from shit stain here." He took off the rest of the armor and revealed a black long-sleeve t-shirt and black pants he had used as a base.

  Cody tried to wipe the sweat from his hands with his shirt, but the moment he did so, they immediately felt moist again. Thankfully, Jonathan or someone had taken a shoelace and worked it in a crisscross pattern around the pommel of the sword to help give Cody better grip.

  Tagg smiled big. "I've been working toward this for months and months. Had no idea it could end this perfectly though." Then he kissed the tips of his fingers, savoring the moment, letting them flower outward like an Italian chef on TV.

  "What?"

  "I mean, way back when I got that reporter to do that story, I had no idea you would rally and keep this nonsense dwarf bullshit going." He cackled at the look of realization on Cody's face.

  "Ha-ha yeah. I gave her all your info. I know what you're wondering. And yes, I did bang her. Lemme just say, she likes to keep those pearly whites polished, son!"

  There was that shit-eating grin again. Tagg looked jubilant.

  "But just in case I didn't crush you with the reporter, I sent Tanaka over with a bunch of his buddies to convince Tex that you were the next hot thing in customer relations."

  So, that was where Cody had seen Tanaka before, at the Brown State game in Arlington.

  "You were there?"

  Tagg whipped his wooden sword in a couple quick cuts.

  "Oh, but it just gets better, Shit Stain. Ok, so then get this. This is one of my absolute favorite parts, you fuckin' retard." Tagg clapped his sword into his hand. "That 250 grand you gave me? That was what I paid in the down payment for the loan on this place. I didn't even buy it until you signed on."

  Cody shook his head. "But we saw a deed to the property, in your group's name."

  "And where is that deed? Go ahead and whip out our contract and see where it says I had to own the property at the time of the sale. You can't prove shit and that contract is iron clad."

  "You're a fraud," Cody said in alarm.

  "What's he saying?" Someone yelled from the crowd.

  "I'm saying what a fucking moron this guy is!" Tagg said loud enough for everyone to hear him, while jerking a thumb in Cody's direction.

  The crowd booed.

  "You're lying," Cody said through clenched teeth. He looked down at Winton, whose eyes were as wide as Cody's with confusion. He looked back up at Tagg. "You're just fucking with me. Then where did the building funds come from?"

  "Well, that's where I did get a little help from my friends. But there ain't no investment group to speak of."

  Tagg smiled, cruelly.

  "I've been trying to tell you for years," Tagg said, extending his arms. "There are winners and there are losers in this world. You need to remember the difference."

  Cody shook his head, unable to comprehend.

  "This was never about crushing your little circus. I'm gonna happily take it from you now and remake this place in my image. But let's make it clear." Tagg waggled a finger at Cody before pointing at his chest. "I'm here to crush you. Not your business, not your little friends. I'm here to pound you into the very dust on which we stand, until you simply cease to exist."

  "Why Tagg? Why would you do all this?" Cody was feeling weak in the stomach. He wasn't sure if he could stay standing.

  Someone yelled from the crowd, "Kick his ass Cody!"

  "Quit gabbing and start fighting!" another yelled.

  "Fuck his shit up, Cody!"

  The crowd cheered around these cries.

  "It's very simple," Tagg said, ignoring the crowd. "We went over it, before your little cock gobbling, white trash friend over there sucker punched me at the wedding. Yeah, that's right. I figured out what happened. And don't think he's off the hook either."

  Tagg leaned forward on his sword, point-first into the ground.

  "Because you're a worm who won the birth lottery. That's why. Because everything about you is just everything I despise. I figured you'd try to start some bullshit business, if you got an inheritance. I was and am determined to take it, as is my right. As is my duty."

  Cody shook his head at the ground. "What about Tanaka?" he asked.

  "You mean, Carl? Ha-Ha. You never asked him his first name."

  Cody pondered that. "I guess not."

  "It's Carl! Ha!" Tagg barked out and laughed. "Carl Tanaka. He was born in Fort Worth, dick head." Tagg laughed again in the revealing. "He's as American as you and me! Dude has a blonde wife with big fake boobs and three adorable little half-jap kids in Houston. Jesus Christ if you'd made this any easier, it wouldn't have been any fun at all."

  Cody looked to Tanaka who was laughing with Tagg, even though he must be out of earshot.

  "If he isn't your business partner, then who is he?"

  "Oh Carl here? He's a business associate...And he's my Kendo instructor."

  Cody shook his head.

  "Kendo? The Japanese martial art of stick fighting? Yeah. Oh yeah. You're fucked. Jesus Titty-Fuckin Christ, you're gonna get that melon of yours cracked open. I'm gonna make you drool like a retard for the rest of your life."

  Cody had almost begun to feel a loving and divine hand working in his life these past few months. But, no, it had been Tagg, all along, stalking him from the shadows, manipulating his course, aiding his ascent only so he could have more to take away.

  "Why would you tell me all this. I should just sue you."

  "Well, like you said, this ain't all about business. And the reality is, you get to fight me with lawyers and maneuvering, or you get to fight me here. Choice is yours. Stakes are the same we agreed to. If you win, now you know how little you'd have to buy me out for. But it's not like you got a snowball's chance in hell anyway. I just had to let you know. Just to see the look on your face. This was definitely worth every penny."

  An irrepressible grin stretched across Tagg's face.

  Chapter Forty-Three

  The Duel

  Cody looked at the people assembled on the saloon steps and felt suddenly at odds with them, as if they had gathered for the purpose of witnessing his humiliation, to witness his pain. Were they all plants too? Were they all in on it? Cody didn't think he could face the crowd anymore, let alone Tagg and his expertly wielded killing stick.

  He was taking small steps backward.

  In a moment of abject fear, Cody prayed, right there in the dusty street. He closed his eyes and cried out silently to God, to anyone who would listen. His cry was a formless, silent groaning full of pain and doubt. A trickle of cold sweat ran down his nose and gathered at its tip before dripping to the ground.

  "God. Help me," he thought. "Help me. I can't do this. I can't."

  His heart raced and his mind spun. Cody wanted to cry foul at Tagg's misdeeds and his trickery. He wanted to call to anyone who would help a man out of an unfair spot. Cody looked to the sidelines and saw Kelly. Her hands were steepled and pressed up to her mouth. Jason was next to her, gripping his towel and baring his teeth.

  "Kill the bastard!" he growled.

  Cody wasn't sure what they'd been able to hear, but apparently they'd gotten the gist of it.

  "You don't have to do this, Cody," Kelly yelled.

  "Yeah Cody," Tagg said. "Never forget option number three. You can just walk away. You would be taking away my chance to fillet you like big dumb salmon. But that's about the only victory a loser like you can ever enjoy."

  Cody felt the instinct to run, to save himself pain at the cost of his dignity. He wondered in desperation what Grampa would do. The profound simplicity of the answer drove away all doubts, all confusion.

  "Nothing's different," Cody murmured.

  "What's that?" Tagg asked, turning an ear toward him.

  "Nothing's changed," Cody said again to himself. He laughed. "It's all the same fight."

  Tagg shook his h
ead, "What are you on about?"

  "No use explaining," Cody said. "I was never good with words anyways." He crouched and leveled his sword.

  "It's time, Tagg."

  They began to circle each other in the age-old dance of combat. All Cody could think about was how their shadows looked like bike pedals moving about the dirt. Suddenly, Tagg leaped forward with a downward slashing attack. Cody instinctively slapped the cut away and heard the first sonorous clack of sword on sword.

  Tagg circled back to his right and then thrusted forward, his sword easily parried by Cody's own.

  Tagg smirked.

  "Ok, so you pass level one."

  A moment passed, and then Tagg lunged left and swept his sword up under Cody's guard. Unable to block the looping cut, Cody spun away with surprising adrenaline-induced speed and heard the tip of Tagg's sword snap at his tartan sash. Tagg moved like a cat and could strike with intimidating speed. But Cody reminded himself that he had a sword too.

  He studied Tagg's movement, his stance. Cody realized he had the reach advantage.

  The next time Tagg jabbed his sword to find his range, Cody parried it, but instead of backing away, he lunged forward with a downward cut of his own, raking the tip of his sword down Tagg's forearm. Tagg immediately brought his sword back in a short cut aimed at Cody's head. Cody ducked, and it missed him by an inch.

  "Okay," Tagg said like a gentle fencing master, "you came to fight. Good. I will enjoy it more this way. Level three then."

  Without a moment's hesitation, Tagg brought down a savage chopping cut aimed at Cody's face. Cody held up his sword at an awkward angle to block, and it was swatted away, leaving a painful ringing in Cody's hand, like if he'd hit a baseball too close to the grip on a bat.

  Tagg raised his sword again and made the same downward cut, and again and again. Each time Cody meekly blocked the cuts at awkward angles. On the third, he lost his grip on the pommel. On the fourth he had to spin away to regain his grip, while not getting blasted in the face.

  Tagg kept turning up the heat, and Cody began doubting his ability to defend the strikes. Tagg made two looping sweeps with his sword, together they made a figure eight, each upward swipe aimed at catching Cody below the ribs. Cody backed away to avoid them. He now stood at the edge of the street, his back to the fake stables. He circled out and back to the center of the street, in a mangled two-step that felt too much like running away.