The Adventures of Low Jones

The Adventures Of Low Jones: Yeoman Is Not Alone


As he walked towards her porch, he didn't notice that he wasn't fully dressed for the occasion. He had the tuxedo jacket on, but he wasn't wearing any pants. And the cumber bun was strapped over the jacket, rather than underneath. And while his boxers were showing, his tube socks with the yellow stripes at the top were pulled all the way up to his knees. Not usually the best way he'd meet his match made in heaven. But for some reason, this didn't even phase Yeoman. Probably because he was about to make out with the girl of his dreams. He was about to make out with Jenna.

He rang the doorbell and anticipated her opening up the door to accept the rose that was ever so tightly held between his upper and bottom lip. He held it so tightly, yet so delicately. And when she would open the door, he would take the rose from his mouth, get on one knee and hand it to her gently. He heard someone creep up to the door and start to turn the knob. This was it. What he yearned for. The plot of his fantasies. The highlight of his night. She opened the door and she looked immaculate. She had on a light lip gloss, with only a modicum of make-up. He got on his knee and handed her the rose. As he stood back up, he made his move. He brought his head toward hers. Tongues were a waggin' and lips were about to touch. As Yeoman crept ever so closely toward Jenna's mouth with his, he felt a huge void ready to be lifted. His mouth was two inches away from hers. His tongue tried to creep out of his mouth early, like a false start, but he was able to pull it back in and puckered his lips like only he ever could. Her lips were like two melons sitting on her mouth. They were ripe and juicy. He went for it. As his lips devoured hers, he noticed a small, black, hairy mole where he never saw a mole before. But then again, he was never, ever this close to Jenna's face before. He was fulfilling his dream, but at the same time, watching this black blemish bounce up and down in front of his eyes. He was taken aback and although it killed him to do so, he pulled away. As he pulled away, his kitten, his dream girl, his reason for living on God's green earth didn't look quite the same. Her blond hair was cropped short and wasn't blond anymore. Her beautiful smile was corrupted with yellowish teeth and peach fuzz on her lips. Yeoman screeched in horror. Why was he kissing Enrique Iglesias?

He yelled again, "Ahhhhhhh!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!"

He awoke in a cold sweat as he jumped up into sitting position from his night of deep sleep. That damn Enrique Iglesias dream again. It was the kind of dream that just pissed you off. You were excited, doing something you wanted to be doing. And then bam! Enrique Iglesias shows up. Usually Yeoman was dreaming of eating a cheeseburger, or watching the Ricker put someone in the Urinal, which was his favorite move. But this time, Yeoman was about to make out with the girl that he has been saving his saliva for all his life. And rather than Jenna being on the receiving end of his best pillow kiss brought to life, it was damn Enrique Iglesias. He hated Enrique for it too.

Just as he was about to go back to sleep, Yeoman snapped back into the night that was. The reason he was dreaming about Jenna was because he finally was within inches of her. He was Low Jones and he was a sexy beast. He and Jenna finally locked eyes on each other. Jenna looked into his eyes. Well they were Low Jones' eyes, but since it was still him, possibly his eyes, and she smiled. And as he thought about the night that was, he jumped out of bed and went straight to the mirror. As he turned on the light, he could already tell something was different. The way his fingers felt flipping the switch was different than how he remembered last night. They felt chubby rather than swift and lithe. As he glanced into the mirror, he was disappointed. He wasn't Low Jones anymore. He was simply Yeoman Highsmith. And he was buck naked. Buck naked and hairy.

As he slumped back into bed, he didn't even wonder why he was bare ass naked. He was just so sad that his transformation was nothing more than a one time thing. Nothing more than a whisper in the wind.

"Yeoman, time for breakfast!" said his mom.

The early morning wake-up call surprised Yeoman as the morning came way too fast for him. But since he wasn't much of a night owl, he probably should've expected to be tired. It was tradition for his mother to make Saturday morning breakfast. It was also tradition for him to take his chocolate chip pancakes smothered in maple syrup and plop right in front of the television to watch early morning cartoons. But first, he had to find some clothes. The leopard skinned underwear was near the bottom of his bed sheets yet he didn't even remember taking them off when he went to sleep. He never slept without clothing before. He always had on a full set of pajamas. Sometimes when it was cold, he still wore the pajamas with the footies. He threw on some shorts and a shirt and walked out of his room ready to attack the stack of pancakes he knew was waiting for him. Even though Saturday morning pancakes always put a smile on his face, he still had an empty feeling for some reason. He kind of wondered what it would be like eating pancakes as Low Jones. He pictured himself with sun glasses on being too cool to sit with his parents. He thought the pancakes would even taste better with Low Jones' taste buds. He sort of wanted to live for the moment. He liked being Low Jones. He wondered what it'd be like being in school as Low Jones, playing sports as Low Jones and yes, even eating breakfast as Low Jones as silly as that sounded.

After he finished three stacks of pancakes, his father asked him why he was so glum. His father loved to use the word glum. Yeoman wondered why he never used sad or depressed. But anytime Yeoman had a problem his father simply would ask him why he was so glum. Glum sounded like a good word for his feeling at this moment. He wasn't sad. He didn't have a right to be sad. He just had one of the greatest nights in his life. And depressed was what he felt when Steve Sanderson gave him a wedgie so bad that he had a rash for three weeks and had to be on an all liquid diet. Right now, he was simply feeling glum.

He decided to give his dad what all fathers want from their kids when they ask questions. Anything other than, "It was ok," or "I'm fine." He decided to open up like never before. He was full of emotion and if details were what dad wanted, details were what he was going to give him.

He started, "Well dad, after such a horrible afternoon yesterday, I had a really good night. The kind of night that simply makes you forget about the afternoon that was. But for some reason, I'm not as excited as I should be I guess." He continued, "I crossed paths with the one girl in the world that I would do anything just to be in her presence. Just to smell what type of shampoo she uses, even the dandruff kind. Just to get close enough to see the dark pupils in her eyes dance as they focus on my eyes. Just like Lionel Ritchie sang, "Just to be close to a you... girrrrrrrlllllll," Yeoman sang in his greatest singing voice.

"I see son," said Yeoman's dad. "Is she hot?" he asked in a way that made it seem like he never referred to a woman's beauty by a temperature in his life.

"Dad, she's gorgeous, but what do you care?" Yeoman shot back.

"Well son, I just figured that if you were going to sniff her dandruff, that she must be Farrah Fawcet beautiful," said the old man while he snorted with laughter.

"Dad..." said Yeoman who was feeling as if he shouldn't have opened his mouth. However, he liked being able to get this off his chest to someone other than Tony.

Farrah who?" replied Yeoman.

"Farrah Fawcett. She was the hottest thing going in my day. Until I met your mother, I thought I was going to hump, I mean marry Farrah," said the elderly Highsmith in a rather promiscuous moment.

"Dad, we're talking about me here, not talking about your fantasies with Ms. Leaky Fawcett," he sarcastically added.

Yeoman's father noticed a sincereness in his son like he'd never seen before. For all Papa Highsmith knew, his son didn't even like girls. Yeoman in his eighteen years had never had a date. Yeoman would blush whenever his dad even brought up the idea of going out with girls. For a while there, Papa Highsmith was worried that his son didn't get the Romeo gene. All the male Highsmith's had it. Even the male Highsmith's who weren't all that handsome were able to marry very beautiful women. Papa Highsmith was quite the dapper dan in his day. He was a Bogart of sorts. Always hit if off with the women. Was hated by the guys. A ladies man they called him. He liked to call himself Orenthal Highsmith, after one of the biggest ladies men in his day. But everyone else just called him Handsome Highsmith. And now, he could pass off that nickname to his only son.

"Dad....dad....dad...," Yeoman at first yelled, with each "dad" getting progressively louder. But Papa Highsmith wouldn't budge. He was just staring into the sky. His head was in the clouds. And he was smiling, for his only son was now the ladies man like he was. Well maybe not the ladies man, but at least he liked girls. Yeoman didn't understand why his father wasn't listening to him. He just figured his dad was thinking of Farrett Fawcett, or whatever her name was. And Yeoman grabbed his plate, swished down the last of his milk, and walked directly to his room to change so he could talk to someone else about this. And that man was Tony "Fly Catcha" Santo.

Yeoman cleaned himself up. He noticed that while as Low Jones, he wasn't all that hungry. Or maybe he didn't think about food. But as he transformed sometime during the middle of the night back to his chunky self, his appetite actually increased. Three stacks of pancakes? He couldn't believe he ate the entire batch of pancakes his mom, Betty Highsmith, made all by himself. She didn't say anything about having to make more just for his father. She probably just figured that since he was late out for the first time in his life that didn't have to do with his all night wrestling video parties, he probably just wasted a lot of energy. But all that eating had him bursting at the seams. And it was mother nature calling. Mother nature was telling him that he better open the latest Observing Wrestling Newsletter because he was going to be in the bathroom for a while.

After his trip to the can, he got himself ready to go to Tony's. He was still bewildered at what had happened and since Tony was so darn smart, he figured he should go to Tony's house to solve the mystery that was his secret life. He jumped on his banana seated scooter, put on his rusty helmet and held in his hands, what he thought was the key to his secret. The leopard skinned thong underwear that he still couldn't believe he fit over his bulbous rear end. He studied the underwear for a second and noticed that it wasn't all stretched out like he thought it would be. It was actually in perfect condition. Then he took a whiff. Perfectly clean smelling. There was definitely something wrong with that. He prided himself in being able to sweat so hard that his underwear smelled like old bus seats. But not this morning.

For some reason, Tony was out on his front porch waiting for him.

Yeoman approached him and said, "Tone, what's up man. I'm freaked out."

Tony stood there just laughing at his old friend. He was actually giggling so hard that he was bouncing up and down.

"What in the blue hell do you think is so funny man?" said the still shaken up Yeoman.

The old friend said, "I can't believe you still wear that small helmet that barely fits on top of your head. And what's up with the racer goggles? You're riding a banana seat scooter."

"Tone," Yeoman replied, "when's the last time you had women falling all over you?"

A surprised Tone said, "Um, good point. But remember, I'm handsomer and I always will be."

"Right Tone, can we go inside?"

The boys went inside Tony's house. Tony's house was a regular family style house. It wasn't the biggest, or the best furnished, but Tony's parents were hard workers and they did the best they could. But Tony's room on the other hand was paradise for a high school boy. It was lavished with the latest gadgets, the best video game systems, and most importantly, the best porn collection money could buy.

Yeoman was anxious to talk to his best friend. Tone could tell that he needed his best bud, his partner in crime, the Tito to his Michael. Well not actually Tito because he and Yeoman weren't brothers, but since Tony felt that his greatness couldn't be surpassed by his buddy, sometimes he felt like Michael. The most talented buddy a guy could ever have. And since he doesn't remember if Michael ever had a best friend, Yeoman might as well have been Tito. But Michael did have the pet rat. Ok, Yeoman was the Ben to Tony's Michael. That's the best analogy of them all. Tony was a star.

"Tone! Tone! Tone! Are you listening to me? Why are you staring at that old Michael Jackson poster? Didn't you get that poster in like 1984?" Yeoman yelled.

Tone awakened from his stupor. "Huh? Oh, what's up. Hey! Don't you ever mess with MJ. The essence of cool."

Yeoman finally had his attention. At least he thought he did. Every once in awhile while he was talking to Tone, Tone would twitch and kick his right leg out and throw his left arm up.

"Tone, let me just come out and say it. I'm as confused as I've ever been. Last night was great, don't get me wrong, but how do I know what was real and what wasn't. How do I know when Low Jones begins and ends? Is it simply the thong underwear?"

Tony replied, "Dude! What are you worried about? Owwwwww!"

Yeoman couldn't believe that Tony was practicing Michael Jackson dance moves and even screaming MJ's signature screams while he was spilling his guts.

"Dude! Come on, I'm serious. Think about it. I've never done anything crazy in my life. Well except that one time I snorted that potato bug up my nose to argue your theory that brain freezes didn't necessarily come from cold drinks. Man, that was the most ticklish brain freeze ever. Anyway, last night was a first for me. Rebellious Yeoman. What's next? What is next?"

The ever down to earth Tony said, "It was one night. And you have no idea if it will ever happen again. Have you tried those tight thong underwear on again?"

"Nope," Yeoman replied. "I'm way too scared."

Tony pulled out his microphone. The dreaded karaoke machine. His father was a karaoke superstar. The Jedi of all karaoke singers. And Tone did love to hear his voice coming out of speakers as well, just not in front of people. He was a shy guy socially at school or around others, but put the man in front of a karaoke machine and he was the life of the party. Well his own party. The One Man Fly Catcha Party. He had never belted lyrics in front of Yeoman in his life. He was a hummer not a singer. But tonight would be different. His best friend in the whole wide world needed something to help him with his fears.

"I'm going to play you a song that will take your fears away. Ahem. Let me clear my throat. Me, me, me, me me."

Then he did something with his throat that sounded like he was about to cough up his large intestine.

But now he was ready. The song started. Yeoman had heard the tune before, but he couldn't put his finger on it. Then Tone started singing.

Another day has gone
I'm still all alone

Yeoman started to recognize it more and Tone started singing in a higher singing voice.

How could this be
You're not here with me
You never said goodbye
Someone tell me why
Did you have to go
And leave my world so cold
Everyday I sit and ask myself
How did love slip away
Something whispers in my ear and says

It was on the tip of Yeoman's tongue, but he didn't get it until Tony went to the chorus. And Tony went into it big time. He put the microphone on his mic stand and threw his arms out at his side with his palms facing the air.

That you are not alone
For I am here with you
Though you're far away
I am here to stay
You are not alone

Tony kept on singing, but Yeoman figured it out. It was You Are Not Alone by Michael Jackson. Yeoman loved it, but not as much as Tone. But Tone sure knew how to make a guy feel better. As the chorus came again, Yeoman started singing with Tony.

I am here with you
Though we're far apart
You're always in my heart
You are not alone

For some reason, after he sang the lyric, "You're always in my heart", the music stopped. And Tony stopped singing. Yeoman continued with the, "You are not alone" but after that he stopped as well. He then looked over and noticed a seething Tony.

"Look what you did!" Tony yelled. "You sure know how to ruin a masterpiece chubby boy."

"Tone!" Yeoman screamed. "I get it. No matter what, if it's right, I'll be with Jenna, whether I'm Low Jones or not. Man, you sure know how to fix things Tone."

"You got that message out of that song?" Tony asked his chubby faced friend.

"You didn't?" asked Yeoman.

"Uh, I don't think that's what MJ was singing buddy old pal. I think he was sort of saying that even if you never get to be with Jenna, she'll still be in your heart. But he doesn't know about Low Jones. Being Low Jones, you might actually get the girl," said the glass half full buddy.

"Tone, you're simply the greatest," shouted Yeoman.

"That's why I'm Michael, and you're Ben," Tony added.

"Huh?" Yeoman vocally intoned.

"Don't worry about it buddy, don't worry, everything will be just fine," giggled the Fly Catcha.

"Tone, I need a hug," whispered Yeoman.

Tony went outside his bedroom door and looked around to make sure no one was there. He then walked back in his room and shut the door. As he slowly put his arms around his big buddy, he closed his eyes and gritted his teeth because he knew what was coming. Yeoman gave the most suffocating hugs in the history of hugs. He had these bear like arms and simply puffed his cheeks out, held his breath, and hugged until there was no tomorrow. And since Tony was such a good friend, he sucked it up. That's what friends were for. For good times and bad times. He'll be on his side forever more. Because that's what friends are for.

"Just don't grab my buttcheeks this time on accident please?" pleaded boney butted Tony.

As Yeoman was squeezing the breath out of Tony's lungs, he was thinking about his next step. He needed to figure out the key to all of this. Why was he the chosen one to become Low Jones? And he and Tony would figure it out tonight at his favorite place in the world. They would go to the wrestling arena to watch the Ricker defend his title against Sheik Ali. And he couldn't wait.

The Adventures of Low Jones: I Can't Help Falling In Love With You

Tony was the greatest friend of all friends. He came up with Yeoman's name for his alter ego, Low Jones. And then he was able to work his magic to borrow his father's car and grab his driver's hat to become Yeoman's modern day Benson and take him to the Porcelain Kitty to help him better his chances to sweep Jenna off her feet. Tony had also dressed Yeoman in his father's best karaoke outfit. What Yeoman didn't know was that Tony's father was a Japanese Elvis impersonator on the weekends and he had clothing that would make anyone blush. But for some reason, Low Jones looked cool in it. The tight powdered blue pants. The tight black button up shirt. Of course, underneath it all, the tight leopard bikini briefs. Hell, if Yeoman ever wore anything this tight before he would be busting buttons after the first course of a meal.

Tony already had his driver's license while Yeoman didn't. Yeoman drove his banana seat scooter to class so he didn't really need his license. But not for lack of trying. Yeoman had failed his driver's permit test 7 times before finally passing. But his mother wouldn't allow him to take the driver's test because she didn't feel comfortable with him behind the wheel. Something about him not knowing his right from his left very well. But this was the same woman who herself would create her own parking spaces while parallel parking, using her car as a battering ram to create more space between her and the two cars she was trying to park between.

While Yeoman was in the passenger's seat, Tony was humming along to one of his favorite artists, Enrique Iglesias. He was no Michael Jackson, but he was still cool. Tony wasn't much of a singer as he was far too embarrassed to sing with anyone in the car even if it was his old buddy Yeoman, but he sure could hum any tune. Once he hummed the entire Good Times theme song 14 times during the first commercial of the Good Times Memorial Day Marathon. It broke his all time record of 12 in a row. But while Tony was humming Enrique, Yeoman was thinking about the day that was. From his pole accident to his video store accident, to his jumping off the bed accident. But in the end, something great came out of it. He became the rock star like, viciously debonair, boy toyish, sexy, Low Jones. It was his alter ego, but he really didn't yet understand who Low Jones was, or even how he came to be. Yeoman knew he turned into Low Jones by result of putting on the leopard-skinned underwear that he was able to fit over his bulbous buttocks. But was that it? Was it a pair of magical underwear that caused the change, or was it his will to change after swearing to live by the words of "The Ricker"? Even though he felt better than he'd ever felt in his life, he was a little afraid of the consequences. When would he turn back into Yeoman? Would he ever turn back into Yeoman? And who exactly was Low Jones? He didn't feel all that different. Maybe a little bit more sure of himself, but that could be because he was so damn handsome as he looked in the rear view mirror to almost shock himself again on who was staring straight back at him. But he didn't have time to worry, he had a lovely feminine dragon to slay. That's it, Low Jones the Dragon Slayer. He gave his new name a nickname.

But almost on queue with Tony's humming, Yeoman started to scream.

If you feel like leaving
I'm not gonna make you stay
Soon you'll be finding
You can run, you can hide, but you can't escape my love

Ah yes, nothing like singing Enrique Iglesias on the way to what could be the largest night of young Yeoman's life. As Yeoman, he couldn't get away with singing Enrique Iglesias lyrics, but tonight, as Low Jones, he could get away with anything he wanted.

Tony immediately turned off the radio.

"Hey! I was singing that, " blurted out Yeoman.

"That's exactly the reason I turned it off. You can't just sing Enrique like that. Enrique needs to be on key, not off key. You can't treat Enrique like any artist. He's almost Elvis like. That's right. The Latino Elvis."

"I'm sorry, I knew you liked Enrique, but man, the Latino Elvis?" asked Yeoman.

"Well, maybe he's not in Elvis' league yet, but soon, he'll be there. And I'll be there with him. Singing, shaking my boom boom, and scratching my hairy mole."

"His mole isn't hairy, just yours."

"Well, at least I have a mole like him," exclaimed Tony loudly while he stroked the two long hairs bulging out of the huge mole on the right side of his chin.

The drive to the Porcelain Kitty was about 30 minutes outside of the town of Bartholomew that they lived in. But with Tony as the driver, it could almost take twice as long. Tony was a by the book driver. Every stop sign, he counted to two before he went on again. Every yellow light he slowed down for. Every old lady he let cross the street. To Tony, driving was about etiquette and he wasn't ready to break the rules even if it was for Yeoman's date with destiny. But Yeoman knew that, and it didn't upset him. He wanted every chance to go through his approach with Jenna over and over again in his head.

"What are you doing?" asked an almost upset Tony.

"I'm practicing my smiles," said Yeoman. "You see, you should have about four different smiles for different occasions. When you do something wrong and try to get away with it, you use the full smile," said Yeoman as he showed Tony his toothy grin.

"And then for instances like tonight, when you want to look sharp and debonair, you use the three quarter smile," added Yeoman as he showed Tony a smile that wasn't as toothy as the smile he just showed him, but still goofy looking.

"And for when you really have the girl where you want her, you give her the half smile, with maybe a little raise of the eyebrow like "The Ricker"," said Yeoman to a now astonished Tony.

"And finally, the quarter smile which is used to seal the deal, or slay the dragon if you will," said Yeoman who gave Tony a devilish one fourth of a smile.

"Where did you hear about this?" asked Tony.

"It was either the Cosby Show or that sex book your mom kept under her bed, I can't really remember," said the oblivious one as Tony sat there shaking his head.

"You saw that book?" asked a surprised Tony. "I learned everything I know from that book."

"Dude, too much information Tone. Too much information," said buddy ole Yeoman.

They were now coming up to the Porcelain Kitty. Tony's father's 500 page road map was finally useful as they found the nightclub very easily. The nightclub was the most famous one in the city for kids who were at least eighteen in age. The place lit up the town. In bright white cursive letters, on top of a two story building said, "The Porcelain Kitty". And underneath the big sign was a smaller one that said, "Where Dreams Become Reality". When Yeoman saw that secondary sign, he knew he was in the right place, and he knew tonight was his night.

As Tony pulled up next to the nightclub, Yeoman was in full strategic mode. He knew that even though Steve was Jenna's boyfriend, she wasn't married to the guy. And if anyone could pry away Steve's fingers from Jenna's hips, it was the L. Jo, or Low Jones if you're nasty. He didn't know exactly what he was going to do, but he had a few thoughts, some even way too creative for him.

As he was getting ready to shake Tony's hand and thank him for being the greatest friend of all time, Tony handed him a piece of paper.

"What's this?" asked Yeoman.

"It's a poem that may be useful tonight. You know, this is a once in a chance lifetime. Look at you. You're handsome."

"Uh, Tony are you hitting on me? I know I'm handsome now and all, but you really didn't have to write me a love poem. We'll always be friends, but not like that Tone," said the new Low Jones.

"Dude, you're cute, but not that cute. I'm 100% Japanese man here buddy. And I wasn't even talking about that. I was talking about you reciting that poem for your girl if you get the chance. Picture it. You see Jenna by herself. She glances into your eyes. You look hard into hers. And you walk towards each other. And you grab her hand. There's no music, but you still ask her to dance. You put one hand in hers and the other on her waist. And you start to sing, slowly:

Like a river flows surely to the sea
Darling so it goes
Some things are meant to be
Take my hand, take my whole life too
For I can't help falling in love with you

So what do you think?" said Tony with his lips puckered while pantomiming a slow dance with his shadow.

"Uh Tone, that's beautiful. But it was even more beautiful when Elvis first sang it," said Yeoman as he was eager to get out of the car.

"It doesn't matter who did it first! It's still beautiful. I was going to save that poem for my future wife, but for tonight, it's yours."

"Ok Tone. I promise to use it if the moment arises. Thanks again. And please be out here in three hours to pick me up. It's a cold night and I don't want to be out here standing a long time."

As Yeoman looked up at the huge establishment, he froze and turned back toward the car where Tony, almost like a proud father watching his son go out on his first date, was watching his best friend, or what used to be his best friend, or who still was his best friend deep inside, but on the outside looked like a stranger, take his first steps into manhood. Tony was still in awe of the day. Not in his wildest dreams could he have even created the story of his friend Yeoman changing from a guy who passed gas on his way down a pole into a genetic freak like Low Jones. Low Jones visually was everything Yeoman was not. Yeoman wasn't an ugly guy by any means, but his cherubic face got in the way of his facial structure. You could barely tell the guy had a jaw. And his large belly got in the way of his abdominal muscles. Yeoman once swore he had a six-pack of abdominal muscles under the mass that was his skin. Tony watched as his hesitant friend looked toward the car one last time before deciding to go into the club.

As Yeoman walked up to the club, he took one last gulp of fear. A gulp of fear is that gulp of air one takes the second before facing someone or something that is out of their normal life. To Yeoman, a dance club would be the last place he thought he'd ever be seen. But as Low Jones, he seemed to fit in so well. He walked up to the entrance and was immediately grabbed by a huge Asian man whose nametag said Hea-Maa, which Yeoman thought may have been a Korean name of some sort. This huge man asked him for his identification. Luckily, the greatest friend in the entire world was also adept at making fake ID's. Before they left his house, Tony used his digital camera to snap a shot of Yeoman as Low Jones and superimposed it onto his older brother's driver's licence. Tony would face the repercussions of his older brother's license missing later. But for now, Yeoman's driver's license said Toshio Santo.

The large Asian man studied Yeoman's new but fake driver's license for what seemed to be five minutes, but was probably no longer than 30 seconds or so. He looked at it, and gave it back to Yeoman.

"You live pretty close to where I live man," Hea-Maa said.

"Huh?" said Yeoman, almost forgetting that the address on the license was really Tony's and not his.

"Oh yeah, 234 Jabroni Drive. Lived there all my life," he uttered.

The large Asian man was curious about Yeoman's name. Toshio Santo? Yeoman didn't look like a Toshio Santo.

"You don't look Japanese, little man," said the enforcer.

"Don't I know it. You see my grandfather was from Okinawa and he came to the United States and married outside of his race. And then his kids married outside their race. And then my dad married my mom who doesn't have an ounce of Japanese at all in her. So that's how I, who have brown hair and blue eyes, get stuck with the name of Toshio Santo. Believe me, I get my fair share of double takes on my driver's license," lied Yeoman.

"Cool man, have fun up in there tonight. Just don't start nothing in there or I'll be the one kicking you out," said the large man as he laughed in such a way that his upper body bounced up and down.

Low Jones walked into the club and took one last gulp of fear. He took each step slowly for fear of tripping and causing an embarrassing scene. He picked his head up to notice two women smiling at him, but he obliviously looked straight forward, not even making eye contact with them. He was only looking for one person and that was Jenna. He still didn't know what he was going to say when he finally did see her. He could use Tony's advice and go Elvis on her, but that wasn't him. He just wanted to glance into her eyes and not have her immediately look away. After that, whatever came out of his mouth would be magical. He walked toward the bar section which was only for the group of people who had green wristbands which meant they were over 21 and were legal to drink. Yeoman forgot he had one too as Tony's brother Toshio was 22 years old. But Yeoman figured he wouldn't get much use out of it because he hated alcohol. He loved him some Diet Coke though. He wanted to buy stock in Diet Coke if he could. He drank Diet Coke morning, noon, and night. You could call him a Diet Cokeaholic. If there were DCA meetings for Diet Coke addicts, he'd be hosting them.

He walked up to the bar to order a Diet Coke when someone grabbed him on the wrist and introduced himself.

"I'm Eddy Zucko. How you doin?"

Yeoman hesitated because he didn't want Eddy to know he was really Yeoman, but he didn't really give himself a name other then Low Jones. He knew Eddy as the coolest dude in High School at Ritchie Valens High. He was a guy Yeoman looked up to. Eddy had a magnetic personality. He talked, people listened. He walked, people watched. He never really knew Yeoman, but he was there in gym class during the pole incident.

"Jones, they call me. Low Jones."

"Right on bro, I like that name," said Eddy. "I noticed you had one of those green bands on your arm. I'm a day short of my 21st birthday and actually in two hours at midnight, I'll be 21. Do you think if I gave you some cash, that you could buy me and a few of my friends some drinks?"

Yeoman knew Eddy wasn't near 21, but he didn't want to seem like a jerk. He needed to fit in. He already had the look, but he needed to act cool.

"Sure dude, what do you want?" he asked.

"Just 4 beers," said Mr. Cool.

Yeoman didn't really pay attention to who he was ordering for. He just helped Eddy walk the drinks to his table and was about to make his way around the club.

"You can hang with us over here man, but my guess is you probably have some sweet chick to go to," said Eddy.

"Ya, you're right. A nice, hot, sweet chick. I'm meeting her here," he said, but in his mind he was saying, "I'm meeting her here, but she doesn't yet know it."

"Cool man, maybe later we'll hook up," said Eddy.

Eddy was sort of in awe of Low Jones. Yeoman felt that Eddy sort of wanted to hang out with him, maybe to learn from the older and cooler guy. Little did Eddy know that it was simply Yeoman Highsmith in someone who looked like a movie star's body. If he knew it was Yeoman, he probably wouldn't have even offered him to sit at his table. But since he was Low Jones tonight, and not Yeoman, he decided to rub it in and milk it for all it was worth.

"Sure man. Maybe I'll send the girls that I deny over your way," said the now vain Low Jones.

"You know it Low Jones. Then I'll be able to give them 100% Zuckosfaction," said Eddy while flexing his muscles.

A laughing Yeoman said, "Ok man, take it easy."

"Late," said Eddy.

Yeoman walked away from Eddy's table in search of his reason for being. Jenna. As he walked back toward the bar, he noticed Steve Sanderson trying to get someone to buy him a drink. Steve obviously wasn't of age to drink, but he had walked up to one of the guys with the green band around his wrist to buy him a drink as Eddy did to Yeoman, but he was denied. Yeoman heard Steve was a wild party man but he hadn't seen it just yet. Like an epiphany, Yeoman had an idea to get Steve out of his way for the night. It was cruel, but it was going to work. He decided to walk up to Steve and turn on the Low Jones charm.

"Steve-O, how you doin' man?"

"Uh, hey, man, where do I know you from?" said Steve. "You look really familiar."

"We met some time ago. Our mothers know each other," said the now swift speaking Yeoman.

"Oh, ok, what was your name again?" asked Steve.

"Just call me Jones. My buddies call me Low Jones," said a smirking Yeoman.

"That's pretty slick Low Jones. I still don't remember us meeting before, but you sure as hell do sound familiar," replied Steve.

Yeoman turned up the heat. "Hey, where's that beautiful girlfriend of yours? I think her name was Jenna. She sure is a catch from what I remember."

"Jenna's here. And she brought her annoying cousin and they are dancing together out there," said Steve as he pointed toward the dance floor. "I'm just trying to find a drink around here."

Yeoman looked out to where Steve had just pointed and he got his first look at the beauty that was his genesis. And he also got a look at Jenna's cousin. She looked like an exact replica of Jenna. They both were about the same height and had very similar features. But still, Yeoman was mystified by Jenna's beauty and didn't even do much other than glance at her cousin.

Yeoman looked toward the dance floor and in what seemed like slow motion, watched the most beautiful girl in the world move so sweetly on the dance floor. He was mesmerized. She was dressed in black pants that seemed to be painted on her. She wore a dark blouse that was slightly opened to reveal her collarbone. Yeoman always had a fascination for naked collarbone. How he wished for a chance to kiss her naked collarbone. He wished that at the moment that he had a camera so he could take a snap shot of how pretty she looked. The only picture that he had of he and Jenna together was taken at lunch one day. Tony brought his digital camera to school and snapped a shot of Yeoman sitting on a table by himself with Jenna sitting at the table behind him with her friends. They weren't eating together, but at least Tony was able to fit them into the same frame.

His heart started to beat faster. He had to act quickly.

"Steve-O, I have something for ya. I see you're struggling trying to get someone to buy you a drink. I have one of these green bands, but I'm not really a drinker. I need to be on even keel as I hunt for prey if you know what I mean. But anyway, here, take this," said Yeoman as he started to take the green band off his wrist to give to Steve.

Steve lunged for the bracelet, foaming at the mouth like a rabid dog.

"Hey, you can't just do this in broad daylight. I can get in trouble for this," said the once chubby one.

"Oh yeah, sorry. Let's go to the bathroom," said Steve.

"You know, thanks for doing this for me. I turn 21 at midnight and in an hour and a half, I won't even need this, but thanks for the band," said Steve as Yeoman had a look on his face that said to Steve that he'd just heard that story a short time ago.

"Sure, whatever kid. But since this is your birthday, drink all you want. Drink like a champion," Yeoman dramatically added.

Who was Yeoman to stop Steve from drinking? He did need to get Steve out of the picture, but Yeoman still felt guilty for telling Steve, who he knew was under drinking age, to drink like there was no tomorrow. So he decided to make his conscience feel better.

"Steve-O, don't get too carried away my man," he said.

"Thanks dude," said Sanderson.

In an act of pure cruelty, Yeoman walked over to the bouncer he met earlier. Hea-Maa was a gloomy figure. He had the perfect look for a bouncer. He had a short, shaved haircut that made his head look like a bullet. His eyes were small, but menacing. And he was big. Yeoman had seen some of Tony's older uncles and he thought they were big, but Hea-Maa dwarfed them. He had a huge chest that Yeoman was sure had a large S on it underneath his shirt. Yeoman walked up to Hea-Maa and poked him on the shoulder.

"What's going on little man," said Hea-Maa in a voice that was half Wolfman Jack and half Mr. T.

"Hey, Hea-Maa," Yeoman acknowledged him awkwardly.

"I don't want to bitch anyone out," he said not believing he just used the phrase he used. He preferred using, "I don't want to tattle tale on anyone," but he wasn't Yeoman anymore, he was Low Jones and he needed to speak the lingo.

"But there's this dude at the bar who is wearing a green bracelet and he's not even close to 21," said Yeoman.

"What you talkin' 'bout little man?" said Hea-Maa who probably stole that line from Arnold from Different Strokes, but the way he said it made him sound like Arnold on steroids.

"The kid at the bar with blond, curly hair goes by the name of Sanderson. How he at the age of 18 was able to get passed your security just blows my mind. He probably used one of those fake ID's that the youngsters use nowadays. I remember when I used to go out when I was that young. None of the security guys or the bouncers ever let me get by with a fake ID. I might as well report this to the local police. You guys are endangering the poor kid's life."

Yeoman knew it was so wrong, but he loved every bit of it. It was his chance to finally get Steve back for the time they were in Junior High School and Steve put a plate of chocolate cake on his chair in class and when Yeoman sat on it, he had passed wind at exactly the same time because of his stomach problems and the class thought he messed in his pants. Even his teacher, Mrs. Chambers who was as old as the dirt underneath his shoes thought he had lost his bowels and forced him immediately to the bathroom to clean up. He missed school the entire week because of that prank. And today, the sight of chocolate cake nearly sends him to tears.

He followed Hea-Maa toward the bar where the big Korean bouncer headed straight for Babyface Sanderson. Hea-Maa grabbed him by the shirt collar and pulled him up so they were eye to eye. The six foot five inches tall Hea-Maa literally pulled Sanderson up 5 inches off the ground. As Hea-Maa was being ruthless with Sanderson, Yeoman acted fast.

He walked toward the dance floor and stared Jenna up and down. She was shortly going to fall under the Low Jones spell. As he was within 10 feet of her, two women came from behind him like thieves in the night and each grabbed one of his arms to pull him toward another section of the dance floor.

In succession, the two men after Jenna's love, one being Steve, who actually had her affection, and the other being Yeoman who dreamt of her so much that he in his mind was rightfully hers, yelled out her name.

"Jenna!" yelled both Steve and Yeoman at the same time.

Steve was being whisked away from the club by the 300 pound Hea-Maa while Yeoman was intercepted like a pass by the two women who stared at him earlier in the night and who he didn't even bother looking at. Jenna recognized both voices, but while she knew one was Steve, she couldn't figure out who the second voice was. She looked over toward her left and watched Steve get taken away by the bouncer. She looked over toward her right and saw a very stylish and debonair man who was being mauled by two very drunk women. She grabbed her cousin and walked toward the exit to follow Steve, but something in her head told her to look back one more time at the handsome stranger. Yeoman was still being groped by the two drunken women, but he managed to peek his head out to see Jenna and as he turned his head toward her, their eyes met. It was the meeting of the eyes Tony had spoken about earlier. Even though he was now Low Jones, he still wanted to turn his head away at the thought Jenna would look deeply into his eyes. But he resisted the temptation and instead remembered the 4 stages of smiles that he discussed with Tony earlier in the night. As he looked at Jenna, he started to do the three quarter smile, but then opted for the half smile, and then at the same time, went into quarter smile. Embarrassed, he was about to turn his head, but he didn't. He gave her the most daring smile of them all. The full smile. He showed the teeth. And he even waved. She waved back while giving him the most drop dead gorgeous smile ever known to man or woman. And he almost fainted. The two drunken women had started spanking him on his rear end while he was dancing and kept him upright. He couldn't feel his legs, but he sure could feel the slapping of their hands on his now not so bulbous rear.

As Jenna turned to walk away with her cousin and find Steve, Yeoman started mouthing the words.

Like a river flows like Big Shirley to ice cream
Darling touch your nose
Dumplings are meant to be
Take my man, take my whole wife too
For I can't help falling in love with you

Ok, so he didn't exactly memorize the words to Tony's poem, or Elvis' classic song, but he felt the meaning. He was in love. Low Jones had a Love Jones. Now if only he could get the drunken girls' hands off his boom boom, he could plot his next move. He glanced over to his left and saw Eddy dancing with a girl, and Eddy reacting to Yeoman being groped by the two women, gave Yeoman the double thumbs up, in awe of Low Jones. Yeoman just kept singing the lyric over and over again.

For I can't help falling in love with you

The Adventures of Low Jones: "Blame It on The Booty"

"Highsmith!"

Yeoman heard that all the time. Whenever anyone needed him, they would simply yell out his last name. No one would yell out, "Yeoman!" It would always be Highsmith. It's not like he liked his first name anyway. His dad said his name meant dependable. Great. Just what he wanted to be. Dependable. Instead of something that meant royally handsome or sexual beast, he is named after an adjective that means, dependable. Some people never even knew his first name. But Highsmith on the other hand was a famous name, or rather infamous. Yeoman knew he wasn't known as a studly guy, but more so as the funny kid who had to be the butt of a joke once in a while, the guy who was always the "friend" to girls, and the teacher's pet. Yeoman was a very nice guy. But at Ritchie Valens High School, nice guys finish last.

"Highsmith!"

Yeoman was quickly startled and almost tripped over himself eliciting laughter from his 12th grade PE class.

"Highsmith, don't you ever pay attention?" Coach Glover asked.

"Sure coach, sometimes I just don't hear you. My hearing is not the best," was Yeoman's best effort to try and befuddle his PE teacher.

Coach Glover was a former professional football player whose career ended because of a leg injury.

"You see coach, one day, I was watching the football game of your favorite team, the Eagles, and it was a close game and when the kicker made the field goal to win it, everyone started screaming, and ever since then, I have been hard of hearing," said Yeoman with a smile.

"Highsmith, you are the biggest excuse giver I've ever seen. You don't pay attention, and when I catch you not paying attention, you make up an excuse. Last week you didn't see me talking to you because your sister stabbed you in the eye with her fork. And I find out you are an only child. The week before you couldn't run because you had toxic diarrhea," said Coach.

"But coach, I did have toxic diarrhea," pleaded Yeoman. "I was ready to burst right in the middle of that one stretch where we bend over and grab our ankles."

"Well whatever, Highsmith, but jump up there and start climbing. And you better make it all the way up," finished Coach.

This was Yeoman's most difficult challenge. This was what he lost sleep over. Some people fuss over not finding a date for the Senior prom. Not Yeoman. His fear was a pole. And it was a long pole. The longest pole in the gym. And he was supposed to get his 5'5, 240 pound frame up the pole. This wasn't only a physical challenge, it was an emotional and mental fear of being laughed at. Every time Coach Glover made Yeoman climb up the pole, Yeoman would exert all his strength to mount it, and be out of breath by the time it came to climb. And who could blame his fellow students for laughing. He would vision himself huffing and puffing and trying to wrap his tree trunk legs around the pole and then grab the pole with his chubby fingers, soon losing grip, and then falling to the ground in one fell swoop. And worse yet, his favorite girl was always there watching. Jenna was her name. She was the cutest thing he had ever laid eyes on. She was the type of girl that was the reason God created day dreaming. Her blonde hair and blue eyes. Her tight blouses and even tighter jeans. Her top heavy...

"Highsmith!" yelled Coach. "Are you going to stare at the pole all day or climb it? Come on, I'll coach you through this. Remember what I always say. Don't let your bootyhole get tight. Once you let the bootyhole get tight, the body shuts down. You got that."

"Um, yes, bootyhole stay loose."

Yeoman looked over one more time at his dream girl. She had her hand over her mouth, hiding her beautiful smile. She was probably already chuckling at him. But it was ok. If he could only climb the pole, no one could laugh. Yeoman jumped as high as he could, probably three inches off the ground and with his swollen fingers, reached for the pole. As he grabbed the pole, he tucked his legs underneath him, holding him upright, ready to escalate. He heard Coach down below. "Don't let your bootyhole get tight." And that's what he kept thinking. He was muttering to himself, "loose bootyhole, loose bootyhole." And it was working. Yeoman had already climbed up higher than his previous mark. He was a quarter of the way up the pole that seemed to go all the way to the top of the building. But he didn't let the pole intimidate him. He was now halfway up and his bootyhole was as loose as a goose. As he climbed almost two thirds of the way up, he could hear his classmates cheering him on. They were excited to see him up so high, but weren't secure in their cheers. It was almost as if they were happy for him, yet waiting for him to screw things up. He was three quarters of the way up when he felt something tingle in his stomach.

"No, not this time," he said to himself as he was trying to keep his composure. But he knew what was coming. Yeoman had many problems, and one was digestive. He was usually able to hide his digestive problem, which made him pass wind at unfortunate times. Except once. He suddenly remembered the time when he and Jenna were finally study buddies in Ms. Willis' 7th grade English class. Unknowingly to her, it was his single happiest moment of his life. He was paired up with his favorite girl, but after the first day of being study buddies, they were switched for a reason unbeknownst. He ended up with Sam Robertson, who was female, but the reason they called her Sam instead of Samantha, was because she had facial hair. And at the age of only 13 too. What a shame. Yeoman found out through his most hated rival, Steve Sanderson, that Jenna had smelled a foul odor on Yeoman. Yeoman couldn't hide it. Almost like a guilty plea, Yeoman knew what he had done. He had passed wind, and Jenna caught him. How embarrased he felt, he remembered. He had tried to play it off too. When he felt the urge to shoot one, he yell out, "Hark! Look, Santa's reindeers," and he pointed to the open door which led to the outside. Unfortunately for Yeoman, she didn't buy it and he had been saddled with the guilt of stinking out his favorite girl since. But this time, it would be different. He would be able to control his bootyhole. But wait, didn't Coach Glover just tell him to keep his bootyhole loose? Oh what a dilemma. On one hand he had this pole that he almost finished climbing. The accolades and cheers he would receive were waiting for him if he could only control his body. And on the other hand, he had his dignity, and the embarrassment he would feel for passing wind, let alone at the top of the pole, could damage his social life for years on end. It was a tough battle for Yeoman.

"Highsmith, keep doing it. Don't let your bootyhole get tight!" yelled the Coach from below.

Yeoman decided he was going to do it. He would sacrifice everything to get to the top. Every inch he climbed, his body felt even closer to exploding. But the urgency to climb faster made Yeoman stronger. He was climbing faster than ever, when suddenly, it happened. His body let him down. With a sudden explosion that even surprised Yeoman, it was over. He let out one of the loudest blasts ever in the history of stomach cramps. It shook him so much that he lost his grip and started sliding down the pole. His body was acting up as he was sliding down, and it sounded like an old car putting down the street. Putt....putt..putt.putt. All the way down the pole. As Yeoman hit the ground, he turned to Jenna who was beyond laughing, literally crying into her hands, and then to Coach Glover, who shook his head in disappointment, yet amazment.

Coach Glover said, "Highsmith, you almost did it!"

"But Coach, everyone's laughing at me," said Yeoman in disgrace.

"But you never let your bootyhole get tight. Son, I'm proud of you," said Coach Glover, overseeing the fact that Yeoman was now at the mercy of everyone in gym class, and soon, everyone in school.


As Yeoman ducked out of the rest of his classes that day, he rode his personalized scooter, with a banana seat and all, all the way home and was ready to bury his head into his pillow. He couldn't imagine what the rest of his senior year was going to be like. It's not like he was Mr. Popular as it was. He was the short, chubby kid who was fun to be around, but wasn't taken as seriously as he would've liked. Especially around the females. Especially around Jenna. He had many a dreams about Jenna. They usually started great. She would be in a nice summer dress. He would be dressed in his best church outfit. She would play with her gum, while he would wish he was that piece of gum. She would playfully coo and it would send shivers down his spine. And at the time when she would get ready to lay a big kiss on his face, he would wake up. Even in his dreams, he couldn't seal the deal with a kiss.

Before Yeoman made it home, he made a stop at one of his favorite places. King Video. It wasn't like one of those corporate owned video stores. It was a regular mom and pop store that carried the tapes that the corporate owned shops didn't carry anymore. Yeoman was fond of one section at the store that the corporate owned stores didn't have. They were too family oriented to carry this section of tapes. He loved this section of the video store because it was for men. Real men. Men who needed manly entertainment. Near naked, sweaty bodies almost caressing each other in every scene. Oh it was just what Yeoman was looking for. As he walked with a swagger that even a rock star would think was excessive and asked the female store representative where the new releases were, he felt strong and confidant, flexing his muscles with every step. He even gave the female employee a little wink and a smile as he asked her. It would be him, his video, baby oil, and his remote control, and even this young lady if she wished. As the lady worker pointed towards the back of the store to where the new stuff was at, Yeoman looked around to make sure no one was watching him, and strolled to that area. Yes indeed, he was looking for his favorite section. It was none other than the wrestling section. Gleefully, he looked for the newest tape of his favorite wrestler, "The Ricker." And there was the cover of the box of the man who Yeoman idolized. "The Ricker" was a big, muscular guy, but it wasn't the body that Yeoman only admired. It was his spunk. It was the way he gleemed. "The Ricker" was larger than life. He was the man who all men wanted to be, and who all women wanted to be with. He had classic lines that Yeoman repeated in the mirror daily like, "Can you feel it?," and others like, "Come and get me." "The Ricker" was the one guy who Yeoman wished he could be like. If he was, Jenna would be his. If he was, he would've been able to climb that pole today. And most importantly, he would be totally confident in himself and his life would be happier. As he went to pick out the video, he found that it was out of stock. His heart dropped into his stomach as he asked the counter lady when the tape would be back. She said she didn't know and didn't really care because she hated wrestling. Yeoman was hurt. Earlier he had given the lady a wink and his most handsome smile and still she had no problem insulting him. What awful manners she had. Not only did she not smile back, she said that wrestling was fake. It hurt his feelings to the point that he felt his right eye well up with one tear. He decided that he would never cross King Video ever again and he told her so. He was confident in his stand with her on his favorite entertainment. And as he was walking out of the store, with his head up high, he tripped over a tape and fell flat on his face. As he was falling, he uttered out, "Holy jeez!" which was something he said, everytime he was in a mishap. He would've said it while falling down the pole earlier in the day if he had not been ripping them with the velocity that he did. The lady behind the counter started to laugh, but Yeoman gave her a dirty look and looked down at the tape he tripped over. What he found was the new "Ricker" tape that he was looking for. It was in and he was a happy man.

Yeoman hurried home, went to his room, and slammed the door behind him. His mother, Betty Highsmith noticed him home from school early and worriedly went to his room after hearing the door slam.

"Yeoman, are you ok?" she asked.

"Mom, I'm fine," said the boy.

"Yeoman, I know by the tone of your voice that something embarrassing happened to you today and I need you to open your door right now," she cried.

"But mom . . ." Yeoman tried to get out.

"But mom, nothing. You get out here right now."

As Yeoman opened the door, his mother noticed him with his shirt off and a bottle of baby oil in his hands.

"Yeoman Aristotle Highsmith, what in the name of Jesus Christ are you doing?" she questioned.

As Yeoman noticed that he looked a little odd, he told his mom that he was just watching wrestling. She wasn't amused and wanted to hear the true story. Then he quickly told her about the pole climbing incident and that he was too embarrassed to finish his classes.

Yeoman's mother said, "Son, you just make sure that you remember that you're a special boy. I know you don't think so, but momma thinks that you're special. One day, you're going to be someone famous. Who is that wrestler that you like? Ricky Martin, or something like that?"

"Mom, you mean "The Ricker"," Yeoman finished.

Mom retorted, "Yes, that man. If he is anything like that Ricky Martin, you'll make someone very happy. I swear if Ricky Martin was here right now, I'd rip his shirt off and kiss his bellybutton."

"Mom, that is disgusting," Yeoman replied.

"Oh son, it's just a fantasy. I kiss your dad's bellybutton all the time," she said.

"Mom, I don't want to hear about you kissing dad's hairy bellybutton, and I don't want to hear about your disgusting fantasies about kissing other men's bellybuttons. I just want to watch my wrestling. Ok mom?"

"Sure baby. Just remember, you're special. Special Yeoman."

As she left, Yeoman was able to get back to doing what he loved. Watching wrestling. He loved the artistry of the moves, the glory and drama of the story told in the ring, and the fact that the wrestlers were bigger than life and got all the chicks. As he watched the new "Ricker" video, he decided to rub his bare chest up with baby oil and strike muscular poses while watching his favorite wrestler in action. The first match was the night "The Ricker" won the World Title versus "Atomic Bob" in a steel cage match. It was one of Yeoman's favorites and after the match, "The Ricker" cut an inspirational promo on the microphone that sent shivers down Yeoman's spine.

"The Ricker" said, "Whether you're big or small, black or white, fat or skinny, don't ever set limitations. Always set your goals so you can reach them, and then set them higher and reach those. When I first came to the One Wrestling Nation, I was told that I wasn't good enough and that I would never make it in this business. And today, I'm the world champion. So remember what I told you. Don't ever, ever, set limitations." Then he turned to the crowd and said, "Can you feel it?" At this time, Yeoman was getting teary eyed. "The Ricker" finally achieved what he'd set out to do. And finally "The Ricker" said, "And to everyone waiting to be champion, come and get me." Something clicked in Yeoman's head at this moment. Out loud to nobody in particular he says, "That's what I need to do. I need to stop being the pushover, and start being the pusher." He then turned off the TV and made a dash for his scooter and took off in the neighborhood before realizing he still had his shirt off with baby oil all over his chest. Reluctantly, he turned around and changed, and then rode out again. His destination? His best friend's house.

"Tony! Tony! Come out here man, come out!" said a very energetic Yeoman.

A skinny Tony Santo ran out of the house forgetting to wipe his mouth, and showing his newly formed chocolate milk mustache. "Dude, what's the problem? Are you ok?"

"Yes, I'm fine, at least I think I am," Yeoman said. "Did everyone make fun of me like I thought they would?"

"No," said Tony. "Worse."

"Damn! Tony, I need to change man. I hate being the ass of everyone's jokes. I need to be more like "The Ricker" and less like me," said Yeoman.

""The Ricker"?" retorted Tony. "I know he's your favorite wrestler and all, but remember, wrestling's fake."

"Tony, it's predetermined. There's a difference between fake and predetermined. Every time "The Ricker" hits the mat, he feels it. Anyway, who cares? It's his message. Remember when he beat "Atomic Bob"?" asked Yeoman.

"Yah, he beat him with the Urinal (which was a move in which "The Ricker" put the man in a hold that would stretch his groin). We watched that match together. You were hysterical when he won that match. I think you cried during his speech at the end," said his good pal.

"Tony, I watched that match again, and this time, I got his message."

"You mean when he said all that stuff about working hard for his goals and stuff? Jeez, you act like he actually won something when he beat "Atomic Bob". I think you're looking way too much into this," said the ever realistic friend.

"Tony, even if it's predetermined, he still meant what he said. He said it didn't matter if you were fat or skinny that you could accomplish your goals. I know when he said fat, he was talking to me. I could feel it," said Yeoman as he stared into space.

"Highsmith, quit day dreaming! That's your problem, you day dream. At least I live in the real world. I'm never going to be one of the cool kids. I'm going to always be the smart guy who everyone cheats off of in class. But at least, I can live with it. You can't. You always get your feelings hurt and come to me with your dreams. What are you going to do now? Last time you came to me, you said you were going to learn how to box like Rocky because you were sick of Steve Sanderson and you trained for one day before saying that boxing wasn't for you because your fingers were too fat for the gloves. Oh what about the other time when Steve teased you and you told him you were taking your dog to his house to sick him and all your little dog did was just pee on the fire hydrant?"

"Ok, I get it Tony. But this time, I'm super serious. It's going to be different. People aren't going to be able to pick on old handsome Yeoman anymore. Tone, I've got to go. Thanks for the talk, at least I think."

As Yeoman drove his scooter back home, he dreamed of making the change. He was going to make a change. And it was going to feel read good. He was going to look at that man in the mirror and ask him to make a change. But before that, he was going to eat the rest of the half gallon of Sweet Potato Pie ice cream and watch the rest of "The Ricker" tape.

As he watched the rematch between "The Ricker" and "Atomic Bob", he felt his eyes get sleepy. It was only six o'clock and he was actually surprised that he was so tired. As Yeoman nodded off, the last thought in his head was that he needed to become cool. He needed to demand respect. He needed to get himself straight because Jenna would notice him and see him for the person that he was. A genuine and great human being, or special, as his mother called him. Then he dreamt about Jenna again. And just as he was about to kiss her, his tape finished and ejected itself and the sound of the VCR, immediately woke him up.

Yeoman was startled as he woke up and he looked at the clock as he had fallen asleep for two hours. It was almost eight o'clock. As Yeoman pushed himself up from his laying position, he felt lonely. He called for his mother and father, but to no avail. He went to the kitchen to see if his mom made dinner, and there was nothing. Yeoman thought it was a little peculiar because his mother made dinner every night and she wouldn't have let him sleep through dinner anyway. As Yeoman went back to his room, he noticed a pair of leopard skin bikini briefs on his chair. They weren't his because he hated wearing briefs as they always chafed his thighs. But these looked very familiar to the trunks that "The Ricker" wore in his matches. Maybe his mom bought them because she felt bad for him after he told her his pole story. He decided that he would try them on. He had never been more excited to see a pair of leopard skin bikini briefs in his life. He wanted to feel like "The Ricker."

"Hmm," Yeoman thought out loud. "Wait, I need the baby oil," he said to himself.

Shirtless Yeoman started to grease his chest up just like "The Ricker" did. He then decided to put on his new underwear. As he took down his jeans, he was so excited that he stepped on his left pant leg with his right foot, and almost fell over. However, he caught himself. He already could feel the new him. The old him would've fell down with his pants around his ankles, bent over his chair, while someone walked in the door aghast that he was in such a precarious position. Not this time. He sat on his bed and instead of trying to put the underwear on one leg at a time, he decided to put both feet through the leg holes at the same time. His dad always said that just because Steve Sanderson makes fun of him, he still puts his pants on one leg at a time. He wasn't better than anyone else. Ok, maybe this wasn't a pair of pants, but at least it was close. He decided to be a dare devil. However, these briefs were way too small. He checked the tag in the back and his mother must've bought the wrong size. Yeoman wore a size 44 waist while these briefs were only a 34 waist. Dejected because he didn't get to pose in the mirror with his newly bronzed chest and his "The Ricker" style leopard skin briefs, Yeoman decided that he would just suck in his stomach to get them on, pose a few times, then quickly take them off and give them back to his mother. This was going to be a hard task for Yeoman. As he got the briefs above his knees, he struggled like a one legged man in an ass kicking contest. He hopped around and pulled with all his might and finally got them around his thighs. The trick here was trying to get his rear end, which was large enough to hook up a VCR to and watch a movie on, into underwear of a smaller man's size. Yeoman decided that he would use the jumping technique that he heard his mother use once to get her pants on that were all of a sudden way too small. His father called those her "I have a dream" pants. She got them on by jumping in the air and pulling up while she was hanging in the air. Yeoman figured that he could do the same thing. He jumped, but landed too soon for his brain to tell his arms to use his hands to pull the briefs up. He decided to try once more, and again, his vertical leap, that one could barely fit a credit card between his feet and the ground, wasn't sufficient enough to pull off the stunt. Yeoman thought long and hard where he could stand so he could jump high enough to pull the underwear over his rear end. The bed! All he had to do, was get a little momentum from the springs in the bed and he could fly in the air long enough to pull up the briefs. But getting on the bed and being able to stand upright with what felt like tight rubber bands around his thighs was going to be a huge accomplishment. Like a pregnant woman would, he improvised and waddled over to the bed, sat down and used his arms to perch himself upright on the bed. He then envisioned himself as "The Ricker" flying through the air after jumping off the top rope, and took his plunge. As he was close to the apex of his jump, he noticed that his head was getting closer and closer to the ceiling in his bedroom. He was in another quandry. Would he risk missing the chance to pull up his briefs by moving his head to miss the ceiling, or should he go for the glory and ask his head to take it for the team? Yeoman was all about the glory. His head thumped the ceiling with a loud crash and though it dazed Yeoman for a second, he was able to pull the briefs over his rear end, though he probably figured he was going to have a case of the plumber's butt in the tight underwear. As he landed, his knee buckled and he tumbled to the ground with such force that he was sure he broke something. But he felt ok, just slightly dizzy. He got up from the ground and did a body check and noticed that everything was working. He excitedly walked over to the mirror and decided to check himself out. He noticed that his legs seemed a little slender and as he checked out his rear end, he didn't see any case of plumber's butt at all. In fact, his butt looked tight in his briefs, similar to the way "The Ricker" wears his trunks. And as he checked out the midsection, he noticed nice, hard abs. He was going to check out the newly glossy chest, but did a double take on the midsection. Did he just see hard abs?

"Where's the big, hairy milk belly?" he wondered aloud. He looked a little closer in the mirror. Who was this person that he saw before him? It wasn't his belly, or his chest, which usually resembled two two soft pillows attached to each other and now resembled a rock hard chest of a weight lifter that you could bounce dimes off of. He decided to rush into the bathroom and wash his eyes and figured he'd just hit his head way too hard on that ceiling. As he took a closer look, he noticed that he still had the baby face, but he could actually see his cheek bones. What had just happened? He rushed out the door and was headed for Tony's house. Whoops, he'd better put some clothes on.

"Tony, Tony, come out!" yelled Yeoman. It was now dark outside and out walked Tony in his bathrobe.

"Who are you?" screamed Tony back. "Do I know you?"

"Tony, it's Yeoman. Dude....." he tried to get out before hearing vociferous laughter.

"Tony, what is so funny?" asked Yeoman.

"You said you're name was Yeoman." Then Tony angrily yelled to all sides of the streets, "Steve, if that's you playing another trick on me, I swear that I'm going to run your testicles over with my skateboard."

"Tony, what are you doing?" asked the befuddled Yeoman. If anyone knew his true personality it would be Tony.

"Ok, Mr. Jokester. Who are you really? If you were Yeoman, you would know certain things. Here's an easy one. What is my nickname for you?" asked the irked friend.

"Chubby boy?" said Yeoman.

"Ok, good guess. Everyone knows that Yeoman is a chubby boy. How did we meet in the third grade?"

"I had chicken pox and you were the only one in my class to get it from me."

"And I hated you for it. Ok, this is something only Yeoman Aristotle Highsmith will know. I have a special power. And I've only told you, if you are indeed Yeoman," said Tony.

"I know this Tony. I know it. When you were only three years old, you lived in an area where flies were abundant and you developed a keen sense of hand eye coordination. Your mother gave you a pair of chopsticks to eat your rice with, but instead you were fascinated with the flies. You took your chopsticks and instead started to kill every fly in the house. You got so good at it your mother changed your middle name to "Fly Catcha". So your real name is Tony Fly Catcha Santo. Not Tony Fuh Ckyoo Santo like you always tell everyone. And now, no fly will come near you."

"Yeoman Highsmith, it is you, it is you!" said the now impressed friend.

"Tony, I can't believe you doubted me," admitted Yeoman.

"Well come on, you look like an entirely new person. Admit it, you look drastically different. I mean the old you versus the new you is like the before and after pictures on the Jenny Craig ads. I mean, jeez, you can actually probably get some chicks now," said Tony.

"Ah, thanks dude. I think," said Yeoman. "Ok, but Tony, I need your help. I'm not exactly sure how or why this happened to me, but I'm scared and I don't know what to do. Help me Tony Fly Catcha Santo, you are my only hope."

"Ok, Yeoman. Remember what you were saying earlier today? About making a change. And all that stuff about "The Ricker's" speech and how literal you took it? Well, you now have a chance to be someone else for a day. Go for it. Use your new look and do what you've always wanted."

"Be a porn star?" asked Yeoman.

"No, no, no....... Go look for Jenna. I heard she was going out with Steve tonight and they were going to some club."

"The Porcelain Kitty?" asked Yeoman.

"Yes, that's the spot."

"So what do I do Tony? I don't know how to pick up on girls or get them to notice me," said Yeoman.

"Yeoman, look at you. You won't have to do anything. Just sit there look cool."

"Ok Tony. Wait! What should I call myself? I mean I can't use my first name, or even Highsmith. People might be on to it," said the once portly one.

"You're right, we need a cool name for you that matches your look," said the helpful friend.

"Y-Diddy?" asked Yeoman.

"No, no, no. Something cool, not something stupid."

"How about Ron Jeremy Jr.?" asked the befuddled one.

"No, no, no. That's your porn name if you were ever to make it. You can't use that now," said the convincing Tony. "I got it! You know how everyone calls you Highsmith at school because they think your first name is stupid?"

"Ya...," said Yeoman who seemed to be wondering what Tony was on to.

"Instead of High Smith, let's call you Low Jones," said the genius.

"That's it! I'll be Low Jones, the smooth operator," said Yeoman.

"No, no, no. Just Low Jones. Don't go overboard ok?" said Tony.

"Ok, it'll just be Low Jones. Now Tony, what am I going to wear to the Porcelain Kitty?" said Yeoman who was already mouthing his new name. Low Jones.