Bobby “Stingray” Corvalis was the nastiest beachcomber on the coast, and those missing two front teeth emphasized a criminal grin every time he offed one of the many challengers who attempted to take his place as King of the Beach.
Sissy northerners, most of ’em — “easy prey,” Bobby would say right before crushing their heads between two surfboards (his favorite method of execution).
Now Bobby had many girlfriends in his “harem,” but his main squeeze was a beautiful little beach dumpling by the name of Betty Jean, and she was the babiest babe to ever pound the surf. Bobby would go through great lengths to ensure that she was true to him, including the attachment of a three-hundred-foot-long chain to her ankle, which was, in turn, connected to his nose ring (“makes me look even meaner!” He was reputed to have uttered on more than one occasion). Sure, this made it harder to surf, but if anyone could pull it off, ol’ Stingray could.
Enter Ivan “Ray-O-Vac” Chunkowski, the nine-hundred-pound (all muscle) Soviet Olympic bodybuilder — famous race car driver and winner of seventeen gold medals. Like a battleship, Ivan moved through the throngs of mesmerized beachgoers, leaving a wake of silence behind. All eyes focused on this behemoth, hulking mass of potential destruction as he made his way up to the watchtower — Bobby’s (up until now, perhaps) undisputed throne over the lands available to his perceptions. Bobby’s “generals” (those entrusted by him to keep order and deal with minor disruptions within the confines of the beachland domain) were the first to bail. Their salaries did not cover this type of hazard, so off to Mexico they went in a stolen monster jeep.
Bobby stood tall atop the watchtower, grinning calmly while pulling Betty Jean’s chain until she was forced to join him upon his perch. To his credit, he only shook slightly at the sight of the approaching Russian bull-boy. Now, only three figures remained within a quarter mile radius of the watchtower. All of the surrounding beach houses were boarded up with great big “gone fishin'” signs nailed to their entrances. The only sound to be heard was the incessant rhythm of the waves lapping up upon the sand. Even the normal screeching of seabirds was eerily absent. Ivan stopped about ten feet in front of the watchtower and flexed his torso, shredding with minimal effort the grey Anthrax tanktop he had been wearing.
Slightly unnerved, Bobby shifted his weight and cleared his throat. No one was around, but he was most certainly being watched. He could feel the eyes of thousands upon him peering out from countless hiding places. He couldn’t run. The stakes were high, but he had to chance it.
He said, “Are you challenging my domain, ru-skie?”
Good. His voice seemed calm. No betrayal of the inner turmoil that churned within his gut.
Ivan paused at this break in the customary silence. How was he to concentrate with all this racket? He continued to flex, as if expecting some kind of applause from these two in attendance.
Bobby again cleared his throat and spoke, a little louder this time since anger was beginning to overtake his common sense.
“Are we gonna rumble, or what? I ain’t got all day!”
Ivan stopped flexing momentarily to scratch his scalp. Now, he spoke.
Bobby “Stingray” Corvalis was pissed. Not only was this steroid-pumped foreigner nervy enough to parade along HIS beach and openly challenge him in front of the watchtower, but he was playing dumb, to boot!
“Huh? Whaddayamean, HUH? What are we gonna fight for? The beach, or the girl? You’re the guest — YOU choose! NOW!” Ivan “Ray-O-Vac” Chunkowski stopped flexing altogether now, clearly attempting to work out some puzzle with which he’d been vexed. His confusion was obvious.
“What fight for? This no MTV Spring Break ‘Best Body On Beach’ contest?”
Bobby had clearly had enough. He pounced from his place amongst the gods of the sky and clobbered the startled Ivan smack dab in the middle of his noggin. The Goliath-like Russian fell to the sand, shaking the Earth in a most violent manner (reportedly causing a tsunami that soon swept several large Asian villages into the briny depths of the ocean).
Bobby spat. “Asshole. That’s NEXT week.”