The Monkey's Penis (Shingles Book 3) by Steve Wetherell & Authors & Dragons

Author:Steve Wetherell & Authors & Dragons [Wetherell, Steve]
Language: eng
Format: epub
Publisher: Authors & Dragons
Published: 2018-03-01T08:00:00+00:00

11

Star Player

There was the stink of sweat and adrenalin. Loud voices reverberated from tiled wales in a distorted hubbub of enthusiastic nonsense. The locker room at Boneville High had always felt a little like an alien world to me, and now, squeezed into unfamiliar pads and a giant helmet, I felt more like an astronaut than ever.

The regular team players, those who belonged there, didn’t so much ignore me as completely fail to notice me. The only person who had caught my eye was Billy Powalski. He had frowned a second, and then his face had smoothed out and he’d looked right through me and carried on walking, as though the sight of me in his team uniform had somehow forced his brain into a hard reset.

No matter. I didn’t let it phase me. By the end of play, Billy was going to have to get his head around a lot more than me wearing his uniform. With any luck, I’d soon be wearing his girlfriend like some kind of pornographic hat.

Say hello to your new star player, boys.

Jesus, is this why jocks are such assholes? I haven’t even won yet and already the power is going to my head…

The Boneville High Skeletons were facing the Darlington High Labradors in a championship playoff. I didn’t really give much of a shit about sports of any kind, but even I knew that this was a big game. Darlington was our historic rival, and they almost always beat us.

I had no idea if the optimism in the locker room was founded on any tactical surety, or if this was just how the players always behaved pregame. It was difficult to deduce, seeing as the B.O smelling boy-apes seemed to converse mostly in high fives and butt slaps. Beyond the immediate ruckus, I could hear the distant hooting of the band and the low roar of the crowd warming up. It was going to be a heck of a football game, it seemed.

Maybe the team’s confidence was down to them somehow sensing a little magic in the air? Maybe they somehow knew that their secret weapon was waiting quietly among them?

I was glad of the face-concealing helmet because I knew I was grinning like a pervert at a Japanese comic convention.

At that moment, Coach strode in, looking like a sergeant pre-battle. The team felt silent, and Coach Learner pointed at a chart of meaningless lines and circles and began speaking words that I assumed were English, yet could not even remotely understand. The players listened with an almost Zen-like concentration that I’d never seen them even attempt to muster in, for example, a math class.

I concentrated, paying close attention to Coach’s mouth as sports-related gibberish tumbled from it. That feeling of being an alien intruder once again surfaced, slowly drowning any confidence I’d had. I became increasingly aware of the monkey’s penis strapped to my stomach. What if this didn’t work?

So what if it doesn’t? I’ll be safe on the bench. I have nothing to lose.

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