Free Have a Nice Day by Mick Foley Page B

us on that cold January morning. The Grand Lizard was calling the action along with Steve Zangre, and the Lizard had a list of thirty wrestling cliches on a piece of paper to refer to liberally throughout the match. My opponent for the big match was Danny’s younger brother, Teddy, who was using the name Big Dick Zuck and who used wrestling’s most devastating maneuver-sodomy. “Welcome to the backyard match,” beer-toting referee Scott Darragh began, “rules, are there are no rules.” With that, the match began, and Dude fought off a Big Dick slap to the face with a flurry of really fake offense, culminating in the deadly palm thrust. Things were really going the Dude’s way until a big “Dude Love, you suck” echoed in the chilly East Setauket air. Uh-oh, it’s taunting by Ishmala, Zangre informed the audience. It was true, the former champion had made his way to the Zucker backyard, and as Dude turns his attention to the fat bastard, Big Dick seized the opportunity and leveled me with a wiffle ball bat to the head. A hell of a swing, too. For the Dude to get out his blood supply, which was in a Jif peanut butter jar, Ted was supposed to parade around with the bat, so that the camera could get off the Dude, who needed his privacy. But he forgot, so the Lizard’s commentary was a little suspicious as he said, “Look at Zuck, he’s parading around with the bat. Teddy, Teddy, parade around with the bat. Ted, you need to parade around with the bat. He’s parading around with the bat. He’s showing the fans he’s number one.”
    When the camera goes back to the Dude he is “busted wide open.” With the Loved One in trouble, Big Dick proceeded to grab him in what the Lizard described as “the big ball grab.” “He’s really got a handful there,” Zangre expertly added. Even with his testicles in turmoil, the Dude had the presence of mind to feel the warm flow of blood streaming down his face, and when he touched the juice and saw the red residue, his scrotal suffering seemed to disappear. With that, I wound up a punch that missed by about six inches, and began a comeback that was Ricky Steamboat-like in its intensity.
    Using his hidden resources of strength, the badly bleeding Dude was able to counter with a backbreaker that left Big Dick twitching. Off camera, someone snapped a twig on cue, leading Zangre to speculate, “I think he broke his back on that one.” Even with the taste of red food coloring and corn syrup dripping into his mouth, the Dude was able to continue on, and carried the wounded Zuck to his landing pad of mattresses and cardboard boxes in the middle of the Zucker driveway.
    “Look at this,” the Lizard yelled. “A lot of guts, pride, and intestinal fortitude.” Then the Dude pulled the ladder from the side of the house, and began climbing slowly as the camera showed Big Dick on the landing pad. “Look at Zucker, he’s busted wide open. This is a … vendetta,” the Lizard screamed, as he searched for a cliche that hadn’t been used yet. Also, Big Dick was definitely not busted wide open, even though the Dude was about to be … again.
    “Look at Foley, he must be fifty, sixty, seventy feet in the air,” Liz dramatically stated, in what had to be one of the greatest exaggerations in sports-entertainment history. “He will die tonight!” With that, the Dude took off from the roof of the circa 1878 Zucker house, which was probably a legitimate thirteen feet in the air. The dive was completely inspired, and was actually performed without a whole lot of fear. The fact the Big Dick rolled out of the way and avoided certain injury did nothing to taint the beautiful leap.
    With Dude in a daze, Big Dick covered the champ, and referee Scott Darragh put down his beer in time to make the three count. There was a new champion, but he wasn’t done with the Loved One just yet. In a flash, he bent Dude over, pulled down his shorts, and appeared to violate the former champ with one quick