Post by Dandy DiVito on Oct 24, 2018 18:01:21 GMT -5
consternation [kän(t)-stər-ˈnā-shən] amazement or dismay that hinders or throws into confusion - Merriam Webster
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The conditions outside of the Sanford Children’s Hospital in Bismark, ND are simply beautiful. It’s an unseasonably warm afternoon with the bright sun beating down on the falling leaves and browning grasses of the fall season. Seated on a bench outside of the hospital is the one and only Dandy DiVito, Action Wrestling’s new United States Champion.
DD is smoking a cigarette as he sits and stares lovingly at his new prize. The light glints off the title belt just perfectly, and DD appears to be in awe of the championship. This is more positive, loving emotion than he’s displayed in some time.
When his cigarette has been smoked away, he rises from the bench and grabs his title, slinging it over his shoulder. He fondly looks at the belt once more before breathing on it to give it a spot polish. When he’s satisfied with the look of the belt, DD makes his way toward the hospital and enters the doors.
Immediately inside, DD reaches reception. The man behind the desk looks up with a smile.
Receptionist: How can I help you?
DD: I’m here to visit the cancer kids.
Receptionist: Excuse me?
DD: You know. The cancer kids. All sick an’ shit. I’m here from Action Wrestling. Gotta spend ma’ time with this precious... little... bags of disease. Good for PR an’ all tha’.
Receptionist: Um, ok, sir. Can you take a seat? I’ll call someone to escort you.
DD grabs a seat in the small seating area by reception as the receptionist calls over to the public relations liaison for the hospital. The receptionist quietly speaks into the telephone so as not to allow DD to hear him.
Receptionist: Hi. Um, yes. There is a guy out here who told me he’s here to see the... (clears throat) cancer kids who are all sick an’ shit and precious... little... bags of disease.
With a few moments, the click-clack sound of a pair of nice heels marching down the hall grows closer and closer until standing before DD is Hospital PR Official Sheila Andrews. She extends her hand to DD and he stands to meet her and shakes her hand in kind.
Sheila Andrews: Mr. DiVito, yes? Welcome to Sanford Children’s Hospital. I’m Sheila Andrews. I’ll be leading you up to the oncology ward today. Before we get going, I have to make sure we’re on the same page here about your role in our facility today, ok?
DD nods in acknowledgement.
Sheila Andrews: Well, here at Sanford, we don’t see a lot of people you might call celebrities walk through our doors. Bismarck, North Dakota isn’t exactly LA or New York after all. However, while we might not have the greatest amount of experience in situations such as these, we know exactly what we demand for our patients, for these children. I want to be crystal clear about these expectations and requirements, ok?
DD: Yup.
Sheila Andrews: Great. Thank you. So we need you to understand that these children are often living in very frail, vulnerable conditions and any undue stress can wreak havoc on their little bodies. In turn, you need to keep yourself in check so as to not accidentally antagonize these kids.
DD: I couldn’t imagine doin’ anythin’ like tha’.
DD smiles a big goofy grin.
Sheila Andrews: I have to say this to anyone who visits the hospital in any kind of volunteer capacity, but I do have to admit I’ve caught some of your work over the past few weeks on Action Wrestling. While your in ring work has been impressive, I’d be lying if I said I had no concerns about your ability to remain professional in a sensitive environment. I mean, you used a locker room trash can as a toilet just this week. You’ll understand if that causes some consternation.
DD: There was no consternation, Ms. Andrews. I promise I pushed that deuce out smooth as silk. No consternation at all.
Andrews pauses for a beat in confusion.
Sheila Andrews: You mean constipation, Mr. DiVito. Consternation is, um, different.
DD: Ah. No wunda what you said didn’t make no damn sense.
Sheila Andrews: Yes, yes. Anyway, sir. You understand why that scenario causes… concern, yes?
DD: I guess. Jus’ ta’ be clear though, I ain’t gonna poop in no cancer kids’ trash can, a’ight?
Andrews sighs deeply.
Sheila Andrews: That’s another thing, sir. Please stop referring to our patients as cancer kids. They are children with cancer, yes, but they are always people first and their diseases simply do not define their experiences or their lives or their identities.
DD: Uh, yeah. Sure. Can we just go meet these li’l bastards already?
Sheila Andrews: Mr. DiVito! That may be even worse than ”cancer kids.” Please be make sure you are on your best behavior. If I can’t trust you to be respectful of our patients, I won’t be able to allow you to see these children today. For the sake of our patients, I need you to act a little more Roy Speede and a lot less Dandy DiVito.
DD: Roy Speede?! I can’t do dat.
Sheila Andrews: Why not?
Dandy holds up his title belt.
DD: Cause I’m man enough to have this (DD holds up his title) and Speede ain’t got shit these days.
Sheila Andrews: Just… please, just keep it PG from this point forward? I can accompany you up to the children if you just promise me that much.
DD: Uh, yeah, uh, sure. You got it.
Sheila Andrews: Thank you.
Andrews leads DD to the elevator, and she punches a button. The two wait for the elevator in awkward silence. Every few seconds, DD shoots a fond glance over to his championship as they wait. The elevator dings and the doors slide open to the empty elevator. Andrews and DD board the mirror-walled elevator, and DD lights up upon seeing the reflection of his prize draped over his shoulder. He smiles proudly and slaps his title belt.
Sheila Andrews: It must be a cool feeling to be so near the top of your profession so quickly.
DD: You’re damn right, it is. Proud a’ myself.
Sheila Andrews: You have every right to be. A month ago, you weren’t even in Action Wrestling, were you?
DD: Nope. An’ now I’m da’ US Cham-peen!
The ride the elevator to the destination floor and the doors open. They step out but stand in front of the elevator bay to talk before heading into the oncology ward.
DD: Ya know, Ms. PR lady, you sure seem ta know a lot more ‘bout wrestlin’ than you let on.
Embarrassed, she blushes.
Sheila Andrews: Yes, yes. Guilty pleasure. You caught me. I’m the one that arranged for you to make this appearance for our patients.
DD: Why me an’ not your favorite, Roy Speede?
Sheila Andrews: You’re a rising star, Mr. DiVito. Roy Speede is established and to be quite frank...
DD: Quiet Frank?! I grew up wit’ dat guy! Wha’s he got to do with this?
Sheila Andrews: No, Mr. DiVito. Allow me to rephrase… To be completely honest, it’s much easier to make arrangements for a rising star to visit than to make them for am established one. Someone like a Roy Speede or a Casey Holliday is already established enough that it is difficult to get ahold of them and make arrangements. You though? You picked right up as if you knew we were calling. That’s what I appreciate about rising stars. Always eager.
DD: Well, to be Quiet Frank a bit myself… You only got me ‘cause I gots a clause in my contract that says if I win a belt, I gotta do some charity work on behalf a’ da company. So here I am. You know, as an official representative of Action Wrestling.
Sheila Andrews: Does that mean I could possibly get the other champions of Action Wrestling in this week? SJW? Casey Holliday? Bishop? #FightSmart? Jaice Wilds? Do you think they’d show up?
DD: SJW prolly would, but those kids will jus’ end up hopin’ their cancer kills ‘em real quick so they don’t have ta’ sit through that dude’s preachin’. Ya might have a shot wit’ Holliday. For Bishop, it depends on da day; dude don’ know whether he’s comin’ or goin’. #FightSmart? You’d be better off lettin’ a pack a’ dogs loose in there wit’ dem kids. An’ unless you tryin’ to make them kids fall asleep, I wouldn’t bother wit’ bringing in Jaice Wilds.
Sheila Andrews: I appreciate your thoughtful advice. Is Wilds really that boring?
DD: He’s a tiny little fella. Ain’t nothin’ ‘bout him tha’s interestin’ or keeps your attention. He’s just a flacid handjob come to life.
Andrews snickers and then remembers to chide DD.
Sheila Andrews: As humorous as that might be, you need to remember the rules: PG only. Are you ready to go talk to these kids?
DD: Hell yeah. Let’s do dis.
Andrews leads the way and DD follows close behind, putting on a tough face as he walks through the doors into an open play area. The play area hosts a handful of children playing with toys and video games. The children are wearing beanie caps and somewhat thick robes to keep warm as most of them are looking pretty thin and have lost their hair. DD locks his eyes on to the child playing Madden, and DD rushes over to sit with the little guy.
DD: I’m Dandy. Wha’s your name?
DD grabs the free PS4 controller and powers it up. The child coughs and hoarsely responds.
Child 1: I’m Kelvin.
Sheila Andrews: Mr. DiVito, I’m going to be over at the nurse’s station if you need anything.
DD: A’ight. Thanks, sweetness.
Andrews blushes and smiles as she walks off to the nurse’s station. Kelvin is absentmindedly messing with his game while Dandy excitedly peppers him with questions.
DD: Who’s your team?
Kelvin: Minnesota
DD: Ew, why?!
Kelvin: Closest team.
DD: Ah, yeah. I get tha’. I’m a Jaguars fan.
Kelvin laughs aloud at the idea of a Jacksonville fan.
Kelvin: How’s that worked out for you?
DD fights to maintain his nice and friendly presentation to this antagonistic child. He speaks through gritted teeth.
DD: That’s big talk, little man. Y’all sure got a big, full trophy case ov’a in Vikings country, right?
Kelvin sits stoically staring at the screen.
Kelvin: So who are you anyway?
DD looks disappointed that he wasn’t recognized, but he lifts the US Championship off of his shoulder and lays it out in front of Kelvin.
Kelvin: Oh holy shit!
DD: Quite the mouth on you, li’l fella.
Kelvin: That’s what your mom said last night.
DD is surprised by the braisenness of this child.
DD: It ain’t often that I’m speechless, but I’ll be goddamned if I ain’t righ’ now. That ain’t what I’m expectin’ from no 6 year old.
Kelvin: I’m 15, Dandy.
DD: So you know who I am, huh?
Kelvin: Yeah, dude. Of course.
DD: Oh, of courseeeeeee.
Kelvin: What? I used to watch wrestling every week with my dad before I got sick, and I’ve been trying to watch Action Wrestling every week here in the hospital. We didn’t get to watch Carnage, but I heard online that you won. Congrats, Dandy.
DD: Damn, li’l dude. That’s pretty cool. Thank you.
Kelvin: Thanks for comin’ here. This is a pretty sad place.
DD sits in a stunned silence as Kelvin turns his attention back to the game and selects an exhibition game. He picks the Vikings as the home team and turns to Dandy.
Kelvin: Pick ‘em. Pick the Jags. I dare you.
DD laughs at the child’s bravado.
DD: Ok, man. You asked for it.
They start the game off, and Kelvin wins the coinflip.
Kelvin: I’m gonna defer possession. Get ready for kick off!
DD: Oh, I’m ready alright. Can’t touch my man, Dede Westbrook!
Kelvin kicks off, and his kick coverage team storms the Jags blockers and destroys Westbrook at the 10 yard line. During the tackle, Westbrook fumbles.
DD: Oh, god, man. NO!
Kelvin’s special teams crew picks up the fumble and runs it back the short distance for an opening play touchdown.
Kelvin: Looks like my whole special teams unit can touch Dede Westbrook!
DD: Nooooooooooo! Gah! Damnit!
------30 MINUTES LATER------
DD: COME ON BLAKE BORTLES! HOW CAN YOU THROW 9 I-N-T’s IN A SINGLE GAME?!
Kelvin just giggles as the time expires on the 4th quarter.
Kelvin: 48-6. At least you had field goals, Dandy.
DD: Goddamnit!
Kelvin: When you just spam the deep ball, I can pretty easily know what you’re going to do, man.
DD: What was I gonna do when I got down more than a couple of TDs?! I ain’t gon’ run it up the middle.
Kelvin: I just have one question, Dandy.
DD: Wha’s tha’?
Kelvin: How does it feel to get your ass beat in a children’s cancer department?
DD playfully retorts.
DD: You keep pushin’ an’ pushin’ an’ pushin’ me, you finna find out, li’l man. I ain’t above whoopin’ no cancer kid’s ass.
Kelvin smiles.
Kelvin: Cancer kid, huh?
DD: Ah, shit. I’m sorry.
Kelvin: Don’t worry about it, man. It’s kind of… nice.
DD looks at him confused.
Kelvin: Well, like, most people don’t want to acknowledge it. They just pretend that I’m ok. They pretend I’m going to drive a car or graduate from high school or have kids or whatever. Like, I know I’m probably not going to make it, and it’s ok. I wish everyone else was ok, too. You? The whole cancer kid thing? It forces us to see the truth. I’m good with that.
DD wipes away a tear.
DD: Tha’s amazin’ li’l dude. So you chill with me fuckin’ wit’ you, huh?
Kelvin: I mean, let’s not go crazy, but so far, it’s been good.
DD: Awwww, shit, man.
Kelvin: What?
DD: You ain’ got a chance ta drive?!
Kelvin: Nope. Not before I came in here, and it doesn’t look like I’m going to get out before… well, you know.
DD: Ah, man. That sucks.
Kelvin: It certainly isn’t ideal.
Andrews’ heels can be heard growing nearer as she walks back down the hall from the nurses’ station.
DD: I’m guessin’ tha’ means it’s time for me to go.
Kelvin: Well, I really appreciate you coming out, Dandy. Thanks for stopping by.
DD: It was my pleasure, man. Real good experience. At least a bit better than dying from cancer.
Kelvin: Ha! Jesus, dude.
DD: You said I could give you shit!
Kelvin: It’s good, man.
Andrews approaches as Kelvin and DD share a bit of a laugh.
Sheila Andrews: Sounds like this was a success!
DD: Fo’ sure. Fo’ sure. Good kid here.
Sheila Andrews: He sure is. Thank you for keeping Mr. DiVito occupied, Kelvin.
Kelvin: It was my pleasure, ma’am. It’s not every day you get to kick the crap out of the United States Champion at Madden.
Sheila Andrews: Mr. DiVito, would you like me to walk you out?
DD: Tha’d be great. Thanks.
DD reaches over to rub Kelvin’s beanie cap into his head playfully as he makes his way out.
Kelvin: Corey Bull’s a pussy, Dandy. Whip his ass for me?
Andrews reacts in horror.
Sheila Andrews: Kelvin!
Kelvin: Sorry, ma’am. Dandy, just keep that streak alive, ok?
DD: Kid, I don’t even know how to lose. It ain’t nothin’. Corey Bull ain’t nothin’.
Sheila Andrews: Alright, Mr. DiVito, let’s go.
DD: See ya, Cancer Kid.
Andrews recoils in horror, but Kelvin quickly and excitedly returns the sentiment.
Kelvin: See ya, Champ.
Andrews walks DD back toward the elevator with a confused look on her face.
DD: Hand ta god, he tol’ me tha’s wha’ he wanted me ta call ‘im. No bullshit ‘r nothin’.
Sheila Andrews: As long as I don’t have to take an angry call from a mother or father, I guess it’s not the end of the world.
DD: Nah. The end of the world is gonna come if I don’ win that match for that cancer kid back there. Sounded like he really wanted this one. I feel kinda obligated to make it happen.
Sheila Andrews: Corey Bull this week?
DD: Tha’s right.
The elevator dings and welcomes them both in. DD looks in the mirror and notices he’s missing something.
DD: AH! THAT LI’L FUCKER!
Andrews is alarmed.
Sheila Andrews: What’s the matter?!
DD: That fuckin’ cancer kid was gonna let me leave without my belt!
DD runs out of the elevator and back to the playroom where he and Kelvin were playing Madden. Kelvin is still seated in front of the tv playing a new game of Madden. Without looking up, he speaks.
Kelvin: Did ya forget something?
Kelvin grabs the title and hoists it up to DD’s hands. DD snatches it and throws it over his own shoulder.
DD: Gimme that!
Kelvin laughs as DD marches back toward the elevator to find that Andrews has kept the door held open for him.
Sheila Andrews: Have you been made whole again?
DD: Yeah. Let’s go. I’ve got to go watch some film on this 400 pounds of bullshit parading around in people clothes and work boots. Ain’t no fuggin’ way I’m takin’ my first loss the week after I win this belt.
Sheila Andrews: No rest for the wicked, I suppose.
The elevator doors close, and the scene concludes.
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The conditions outside of the Sanford Children’s Hospital in Bismark, ND are simply beautiful. It’s an unseasonably warm afternoon with the bright sun beating down on the falling leaves and browning grasses of the fall season. Seated on a bench outside of the hospital is the one and only Dandy DiVito, Action Wrestling’s new United States Champion.
DD is smoking a cigarette as he sits and stares lovingly at his new prize. The light glints off the title belt just perfectly, and DD appears to be in awe of the championship. This is more positive, loving emotion than he’s displayed in some time.
When his cigarette has been smoked away, he rises from the bench and grabs his title, slinging it over his shoulder. He fondly looks at the belt once more before breathing on it to give it a spot polish. When he’s satisfied with the look of the belt, DD makes his way toward the hospital and enters the doors.
Immediately inside, DD reaches reception. The man behind the desk looks up with a smile.
Receptionist: How can I help you?
DD: I’m here to visit the cancer kids.
Receptionist: Excuse me?
DD: You know. The cancer kids. All sick an’ shit. I’m here from Action Wrestling. Gotta spend ma’ time with this precious... little... bags of disease. Good for PR an’ all tha’.
Receptionist: Um, ok, sir. Can you take a seat? I’ll call someone to escort you.
DD grabs a seat in the small seating area by reception as the receptionist calls over to the public relations liaison for the hospital. The receptionist quietly speaks into the telephone so as not to allow DD to hear him.
Receptionist: Hi. Um, yes. There is a guy out here who told me he’s here to see the... (clears throat) cancer kids who are all sick an’ shit and precious... little... bags of disease.
With a few moments, the click-clack sound of a pair of nice heels marching down the hall grows closer and closer until standing before DD is Hospital PR Official Sheila Andrews. She extends her hand to DD and he stands to meet her and shakes her hand in kind.
Sheila Andrews: Mr. DiVito, yes? Welcome to Sanford Children’s Hospital. I’m Sheila Andrews. I’ll be leading you up to the oncology ward today. Before we get going, I have to make sure we’re on the same page here about your role in our facility today, ok?
DD nods in acknowledgement.
Sheila Andrews: Well, here at Sanford, we don’t see a lot of people you might call celebrities walk through our doors. Bismarck, North Dakota isn’t exactly LA or New York after all. However, while we might not have the greatest amount of experience in situations such as these, we know exactly what we demand for our patients, for these children. I want to be crystal clear about these expectations and requirements, ok?
DD: Yup.
Sheila Andrews: Great. Thank you. So we need you to understand that these children are often living in very frail, vulnerable conditions and any undue stress can wreak havoc on their little bodies. In turn, you need to keep yourself in check so as to not accidentally antagonize these kids.
DD: I couldn’t imagine doin’ anythin’ like tha’.
DD smiles a big goofy grin.
Sheila Andrews: I have to say this to anyone who visits the hospital in any kind of volunteer capacity, but I do have to admit I’ve caught some of your work over the past few weeks on Action Wrestling. While your in ring work has been impressive, I’d be lying if I said I had no concerns about your ability to remain professional in a sensitive environment. I mean, you used a locker room trash can as a toilet just this week. You’ll understand if that causes some consternation.
DD: There was no consternation, Ms. Andrews. I promise I pushed that deuce out smooth as silk. No consternation at all.
Andrews pauses for a beat in confusion.
Sheila Andrews: You mean constipation, Mr. DiVito. Consternation is, um, different.
DD: Ah. No wunda what you said didn’t make no damn sense.
Sheila Andrews: Yes, yes. Anyway, sir. You understand why that scenario causes… concern, yes?
DD: I guess. Jus’ ta’ be clear though, I ain’t gonna poop in no cancer kids’ trash can, a’ight?
Andrews sighs deeply.
Sheila Andrews: That’s another thing, sir. Please stop referring to our patients as cancer kids. They are children with cancer, yes, but they are always people first and their diseases simply do not define their experiences or their lives or their identities.
DD: Uh, yeah. Sure. Can we just go meet these li’l bastards already?
Sheila Andrews: Mr. DiVito! That may be even worse than ”cancer kids.” Please be make sure you are on your best behavior. If I can’t trust you to be respectful of our patients, I won’t be able to allow you to see these children today. For the sake of our patients, I need you to act a little more Roy Speede and a lot less Dandy DiVito.
DD: Roy Speede?! I can’t do dat.
Sheila Andrews: Why not?
Dandy holds up his title belt.
DD: Cause I’m man enough to have this (DD holds up his title) and Speede ain’t got shit these days.
Sheila Andrews: Just… please, just keep it PG from this point forward? I can accompany you up to the children if you just promise me that much.
DD: Uh, yeah, uh, sure. You got it.
Sheila Andrews: Thank you.
Andrews leads DD to the elevator, and she punches a button. The two wait for the elevator in awkward silence. Every few seconds, DD shoots a fond glance over to his championship as they wait. The elevator dings and the doors slide open to the empty elevator. Andrews and DD board the mirror-walled elevator, and DD lights up upon seeing the reflection of his prize draped over his shoulder. He smiles proudly and slaps his title belt.
Sheila Andrews: It must be a cool feeling to be so near the top of your profession so quickly.
DD: You’re damn right, it is. Proud a’ myself.
Sheila Andrews: You have every right to be. A month ago, you weren’t even in Action Wrestling, were you?
DD: Nope. An’ now I’m da’ US Cham-peen!
The ride the elevator to the destination floor and the doors open. They step out but stand in front of the elevator bay to talk before heading into the oncology ward.
DD: Ya know, Ms. PR lady, you sure seem ta know a lot more ‘bout wrestlin’ than you let on.
Embarrassed, she blushes.
Sheila Andrews: Yes, yes. Guilty pleasure. You caught me. I’m the one that arranged for you to make this appearance for our patients.
DD: Why me an’ not your favorite, Roy Speede?
Sheila Andrews: You’re a rising star, Mr. DiVito. Roy Speede is established and to be quite frank...
DD: Quiet Frank?! I grew up wit’ dat guy! Wha’s he got to do with this?
Sheila Andrews: No, Mr. DiVito. Allow me to rephrase… To be completely honest, it’s much easier to make arrangements for a rising star to visit than to make them for am established one. Someone like a Roy Speede or a Casey Holliday is already established enough that it is difficult to get ahold of them and make arrangements. You though? You picked right up as if you knew we were calling. That’s what I appreciate about rising stars. Always eager.
DD: Well, to be Quiet Frank a bit myself… You only got me ‘cause I gots a clause in my contract that says if I win a belt, I gotta do some charity work on behalf a’ da company. So here I am. You know, as an official representative of Action Wrestling.
Sheila Andrews: Does that mean I could possibly get the other champions of Action Wrestling in this week? SJW? Casey Holliday? Bishop? #FightSmart? Jaice Wilds? Do you think they’d show up?
DD: SJW prolly would, but those kids will jus’ end up hopin’ their cancer kills ‘em real quick so they don’t have ta’ sit through that dude’s preachin’. Ya might have a shot wit’ Holliday. For Bishop, it depends on da day; dude don’ know whether he’s comin’ or goin’. #FightSmart? You’d be better off lettin’ a pack a’ dogs loose in there wit’ dem kids. An’ unless you tryin’ to make them kids fall asleep, I wouldn’t bother wit’ bringing in Jaice Wilds.
Sheila Andrews: I appreciate your thoughtful advice. Is Wilds really that boring?
DD: He’s a tiny little fella. Ain’t nothin’ ‘bout him tha’s interestin’ or keeps your attention. He’s just a flacid handjob come to life.
Andrews snickers and then remembers to chide DD.
Sheila Andrews: As humorous as that might be, you need to remember the rules: PG only. Are you ready to go talk to these kids?
DD: Hell yeah. Let’s do dis.
Andrews leads the way and DD follows close behind, putting on a tough face as he walks through the doors into an open play area. The play area hosts a handful of children playing with toys and video games. The children are wearing beanie caps and somewhat thick robes to keep warm as most of them are looking pretty thin and have lost their hair. DD locks his eyes on to the child playing Madden, and DD rushes over to sit with the little guy.
DD: I’m Dandy. Wha’s your name?
DD grabs the free PS4 controller and powers it up. The child coughs and hoarsely responds.
Child 1: I’m Kelvin.
Sheila Andrews: Mr. DiVito, I’m going to be over at the nurse’s station if you need anything.
DD: A’ight. Thanks, sweetness.
Andrews blushes and smiles as she walks off to the nurse’s station. Kelvin is absentmindedly messing with his game while Dandy excitedly peppers him with questions.
DD: Who’s your team?
Kelvin: Minnesota
DD: Ew, why?!
Kelvin: Closest team.
DD: Ah, yeah. I get tha’. I’m a Jaguars fan.
Kelvin laughs aloud at the idea of a Jacksonville fan.
Kelvin: How’s that worked out for you?
DD fights to maintain his nice and friendly presentation to this antagonistic child. He speaks through gritted teeth.
DD: That’s big talk, little man. Y’all sure got a big, full trophy case ov’a in Vikings country, right?
Kelvin sits stoically staring at the screen.
Kelvin: So who are you anyway?
DD looks disappointed that he wasn’t recognized, but he lifts the US Championship off of his shoulder and lays it out in front of Kelvin.
Kelvin: Oh holy shit!
DD: Quite the mouth on you, li’l fella.
Kelvin: That’s what your mom said last night.
DD is surprised by the braisenness of this child.
DD: It ain’t often that I’m speechless, but I’ll be goddamned if I ain’t righ’ now. That ain’t what I’m expectin’ from no 6 year old.
Kelvin: I’m 15, Dandy.
DD: So you know who I am, huh?
Kelvin: Yeah, dude. Of course.
DD: Oh, of courseeeeeee.
Kelvin: What? I used to watch wrestling every week with my dad before I got sick, and I’ve been trying to watch Action Wrestling every week here in the hospital. We didn’t get to watch Carnage, but I heard online that you won. Congrats, Dandy.
DD: Damn, li’l dude. That’s pretty cool. Thank you.
Kelvin: Thanks for comin’ here. This is a pretty sad place.
DD sits in a stunned silence as Kelvin turns his attention back to the game and selects an exhibition game. He picks the Vikings as the home team and turns to Dandy.
Kelvin: Pick ‘em. Pick the Jags. I dare you.
DD laughs at the child’s bravado.
DD: Ok, man. You asked for it.
They start the game off, and Kelvin wins the coinflip.
Kelvin: I’m gonna defer possession. Get ready for kick off!
DD: Oh, I’m ready alright. Can’t touch my man, Dede Westbrook!
Kelvin kicks off, and his kick coverage team storms the Jags blockers and destroys Westbrook at the 10 yard line. During the tackle, Westbrook fumbles.
DD: Oh, god, man. NO!
Kelvin’s special teams crew picks up the fumble and runs it back the short distance for an opening play touchdown.
Kelvin: Looks like my whole special teams unit can touch Dede Westbrook!
DD: Nooooooooooo! Gah! Damnit!
------30 MINUTES LATER------
DD: COME ON BLAKE BORTLES! HOW CAN YOU THROW 9 I-N-T’s IN A SINGLE GAME?!
Kelvin just giggles as the time expires on the 4th quarter.
Kelvin: 48-6. At least you had field goals, Dandy.
DD: Goddamnit!
Kelvin: When you just spam the deep ball, I can pretty easily know what you’re going to do, man.
DD: What was I gonna do when I got down more than a couple of TDs?! I ain’t gon’ run it up the middle.
Kelvin: I just have one question, Dandy.
DD: Wha’s tha’?
Kelvin: How does it feel to get your ass beat in a children’s cancer department?
DD playfully retorts.
DD: You keep pushin’ an’ pushin’ an’ pushin’ me, you finna find out, li’l man. I ain’t above whoopin’ no cancer kid’s ass.
Kelvin smiles.
Kelvin: Cancer kid, huh?
DD: Ah, shit. I’m sorry.
Kelvin: Don’t worry about it, man. It’s kind of… nice.
DD looks at him confused.
Kelvin: Well, like, most people don’t want to acknowledge it. They just pretend that I’m ok. They pretend I’m going to drive a car or graduate from high school or have kids or whatever. Like, I know I’m probably not going to make it, and it’s ok. I wish everyone else was ok, too. You? The whole cancer kid thing? It forces us to see the truth. I’m good with that.
DD wipes away a tear.
DD: Tha’s amazin’ li’l dude. So you chill with me fuckin’ wit’ you, huh?
Kelvin: I mean, let’s not go crazy, but so far, it’s been good.
DD: Awwww, shit, man.
Kelvin: What?
DD: You ain’ got a chance ta drive?!
Kelvin: Nope. Not before I came in here, and it doesn’t look like I’m going to get out before… well, you know.
DD: Ah, man. That sucks.
Kelvin: It certainly isn’t ideal.
Andrews’ heels can be heard growing nearer as she walks back down the hall from the nurses’ station.
DD: I’m guessin’ tha’ means it’s time for me to go.
Kelvin: Well, I really appreciate you coming out, Dandy. Thanks for stopping by.
DD: It was my pleasure, man. Real good experience. At least a bit better than dying from cancer.
Kelvin: Ha! Jesus, dude.
DD: You said I could give you shit!
Kelvin: It’s good, man.
Andrews approaches as Kelvin and DD share a bit of a laugh.
Sheila Andrews: Sounds like this was a success!
DD: Fo’ sure. Fo’ sure. Good kid here.
Sheila Andrews: He sure is. Thank you for keeping Mr. DiVito occupied, Kelvin.
Kelvin: It was my pleasure, ma’am. It’s not every day you get to kick the crap out of the United States Champion at Madden.
Sheila Andrews: Mr. DiVito, would you like me to walk you out?
DD: Tha’d be great. Thanks.
DD reaches over to rub Kelvin’s beanie cap into his head playfully as he makes his way out.
Kelvin: Corey Bull’s a pussy, Dandy. Whip his ass for me?
Andrews reacts in horror.
Sheila Andrews: Kelvin!
Kelvin: Sorry, ma’am. Dandy, just keep that streak alive, ok?
DD: Kid, I don’t even know how to lose. It ain’t nothin’. Corey Bull ain’t nothin’.
Sheila Andrews: Alright, Mr. DiVito, let’s go.
DD: See ya, Cancer Kid.
Andrews recoils in horror, but Kelvin quickly and excitedly returns the sentiment.
Kelvin: See ya, Champ.
Andrews walks DD back toward the elevator with a confused look on her face.
DD: Hand ta god, he tol’ me tha’s wha’ he wanted me ta call ‘im. No bullshit ‘r nothin’.
Sheila Andrews: As long as I don’t have to take an angry call from a mother or father, I guess it’s not the end of the world.
DD: Nah. The end of the world is gonna come if I don’ win that match for that cancer kid back there. Sounded like he really wanted this one. I feel kinda obligated to make it happen.
Sheila Andrews: Corey Bull this week?
DD: Tha’s right.
The elevator dings and welcomes them both in. DD looks in the mirror and notices he’s missing something.
DD: AH! THAT LI’L FUCKER!
Andrews is alarmed.
Sheila Andrews: What’s the matter?!
DD: That fuckin’ cancer kid was gonna let me leave without my belt!
DD runs out of the elevator and back to the playroom where he and Kelvin were playing Madden. Kelvin is still seated in front of the tv playing a new game of Madden. Without looking up, he speaks.
Kelvin: Did ya forget something?
Kelvin grabs the title and hoists it up to DD’s hands. DD snatches it and throws it over his own shoulder.
DD: Gimme that!
Kelvin laughs as DD marches back toward the elevator to find that Andrews has kept the door held open for him.
Sheila Andrews: Have you been made whole again?
DD: Yeah. Let’s go. I’ve got to go watch some film on this 400 pounds of bullshit parading around in people clothes and work boots. Ain’t no fuggin’ way I’m takin’ my first loss the week after I win this belt.
Sheila Andrews: No rest for the wicked, I suppose.
The elevator doors close, and the scene concludes.