STY-ROIDS

Characters: Ken Kaze, Carson Nash, George the Trashcan, & Geo Vacton

“You’ve had way too much fun with this tonight, George,” the voice of the Hardcore Retard, Ken Kaze, resounded. “It’s Geo’s turn.”

Within the confines of a shared locker room was one of the newly announced triple tag teams for the upcoming Trinity Tag Team division.

Ken Kaze.

“Untouchable” Carson Nash.

Geo Vacton.

George the Trashcan was positioned in a corner of the room, adjacent to two sets of lockers. Ken Kaze was seated in a steel chair in front of George, leaning over to observe his compatriot under closer inspection. Geo Vacton was leaning against a wall on the opposite side of the room from Kaze, peering down into his palms, entranced in deep thought about the backstabbing he received from the Underground Hero, CJ Newfield, last week. Carson Nash had just entered a door inside of the locker room that lead to a rather diminutive restroom.

With Ken’s latest remark mentioning his name, Geo freed himself from his mesmerizing thought process to peer up at his friend.

“What?” he questioned, taken aback.

Ken stood up from his chair before reaching into the depths of George. As he pulled his arm out, he revealed the ten inches long, three inches wide neon pink dildo he had transported into the arena earlier.

“Way too much fun,” he repeated. His body swiveled around to examine Vacton. “Yeah, it’s your turn to have fun with it. I had a time with it last night myself.”

Geo cocked an eyebrow.

Scratch that. Make that two eyebrows.

Apparently Carson had heard the remark as well, as a stifled grunt of confusion emitted from the restroom, followed by the sweet sound of tinkling.

“And George seems to be having fun with it, too!” Ken added.

“Er – I’ll pass, Kaze. Thanks,” Geo said with false gratitude, shaking his head as his normally did when Ken’s idiocy shined through.

“Okay,” Ken pressed on, “it’s Nash’s turn! NASH! Ready to try the . . . DILDO OF DEATH-DEFYING DESTRUCTION – SLASH – SUPER PLEASURE BEAST?”

Another grunt escaped the restroom before the Triple Crown Number One Contender responded with, “Uh . . . no, thanks. I’m taking a crap right now.” By the wavering tone of his voice, it was obvious he was lying. Ken wouldn’t know, however. And he could blame Nash? Would YOU want to play with a dildo? Eeww. You sick freak.

“Well . . . I guess I’ll continue to have fun with it all by myself. Both of you guys really don’t know what you’re missing. When it comes to the ONI, though, Sylo will know. He’ll have his turn. And I’m sure he’ll be elated. Polar wouldn’t like it, though. He’s a faggot. After all, he is from Alaska,” Ken stated before taking a break from his rambling. “How are you gonna be from Alaska? No one comes from Alaska! You can’t be cool if you’re an Eskimo Alaskan!”

The sound of a toilet flushing allowed for Carson to emerge from the restroom. He was staring at Ken, bewildered by his incoherent rambling. It seemed as if Nash was about to make an announcement, but the words never escaped his lips as he sighed deeply before shrugging his shoulders. He turned to his left to face a table. Stacked on top of the table was plenty of sodas, water bottles, and random assortments of various types of unknown bottles.

“You know what?” Kaze asked no one in particular. “I’m gonna take me some sty-roids! What do y’all think about that? I wanna be buff like that overgrown Papa Smurf. Can either one of you hook me up?”

Geo was either ignoring Ken, or was back into his abstraction from earlier. Probably both. He wasn’t in the greatest of moods, as usual. The fall from grace he received at the hands of Newfield was once more running through his mind. Carson, however, decided to pitch a helping hand.

“You know . . . I can actually hook you up, Ken. I got some steroids right over here. Hold up a sec, let me gather it together.”

Nash reached for a soda and one of the unknown bottles. He popped open the can of soda before twisting off the cap of the unidentified jug. Emptying the anonymous contents into the can, he set the bottle aside before turning around. With an outstretched arm, he had handed the soda can off to his newfound tag team partner, Ken Kaze.

The Hero of Hardcore gratefully accepted the canister of what he believed to be steroids mixed with soda. A sinister grin had became present on Mr. Untouchable’s face as he tried to hide the indefinite bottle behind a stack of water bottles. As he attempted to hide it, a label finally came into view.

Ex-Lax.

“Mmmm, this is some good stuff. What do they call this stuff, anyway? I know it’s sty-roids and all, but is there a name?”

Carson debated momentarily whether or not he should disclose the name of the contents of which now settled into the bottom of Ken’s stomach. Would he know what Ex-Lax was? Carson decided there wasn’t a snowball’s chance in Hell Ken would know, as retarded as he was.

“Ex-Lax. A new line of steroids, just for small peons like you.”

“Ex-Lax, huh? Well, whoever created this stuff is a genius, if I may say so myself.”

Nash’s smirk spread across his face like wildfire.