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Waz, the Greatest Wrassler
in the World
And everyone’s favorite
vs
Tim, the Mostest Ferocious Giant Squid
In the World
and everyone’s UN-favorite.
A nice relaxing bedtime story
By
Mr. NoOneKnows Who
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Once there was a man named Waz who was the greatest wrestler in the world. He had
never lost. He traveled to the great forests of British Columbia to search for the most
ferocious grizzly bears in the world and he wrestled them blindfolded one by one. He
traveled to the Artic Circle to search for the meanest and most short-tempered polar bears
on earth and he wrestled them blindfolded one by one, while whistling. He traveled to
South America and deep in the heart of the great Amazon jungle to search for the longest
and fattest and ugliest Anaconda snake on earth and he wrestled it blindfolded and with
both hands tied by behind his back, while whistling.
There was nothing else left to wrestle. He tried to stay in shape by skipping rope whilst
wrestling his own shadow, but have you ever tried wrestling your own shadow? It was
harder than he expected because his shadow was no dummy and it was as quick as he was
and knew all the same wrestling moves.
He tried chasing falling meteorites so he could wrestle them from the sky but have you
ever tried to catch a falling meteorite, blindfolded?
One day, thinking his career was over because there was nothing left to wrestle and
worried that his humongous muscles would disappear without the challenge of an
opponent, he was waiting in line at the grocery store and happened to overhear someone
mention a story they had overheard from someone else whilst waiting in the line at the
hardware store who had overheard the story from someone whilst waiting in line at the
Laundromat about a terribly ferocious creature much much larger than a whale. A
creature who lived in the middle of an ocean seven miles deep. An humongously ugly
creature with a stupendously vicious bite who lived below the light who had never lost a
fight who had eight legs thirty feet in height who liked to fly kites . . .
Kites?
Well anyway, Waz instantly started training (right there on the floor of the grocery store,
he did 50 push-ups in 15 seconds and stood up and flexed his muscles and declared: “I
shall challenge this creature to a wrestling match.”
“But you are too old,” those in the grocery store line called out. “The creature will eat
you for lunch.”
I am the boldest of bold, replied Waz, and I shall stand this water spider upside down, on
his head, when all is done and said.
You didn’t rhyme with lunch.
Who are you?
I’m just a kid, listening to the story and you forgot to rhyme with lunch.
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This isn’t a poem. It’s a story about wrasslin’.
“But you have to rhyme with lunch.”
I don’t have time to rhyme. I have to get in shape, and I’ll need my old costume, with the
beautiful red cape, and my muscles will be hard as a rock and I’ll start by wrasslin a croc
and . . .
Croc?
You know . . . crocodile?
Oh.
Then after a while, when I’ve whupped the croc-odile, I’ll have a healthy lunch and
practice my ferocious punch and out to sea I’ll swim.
You did it! You rhymed with lunch!
To the bottom of the sea I’ll swim, where the light is dim, and finally I’ll wrassle that
Tim. I’ll tear him limb to limb.
Tim?
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That’s his name. His name is Tim. Honest.
You just made that up.
Duh . . . yeah. It is a story, you know. Stories are made-up.
So it isn’t true then.
Oh it’s true alrighty. My little Almighty.
If it’s true then find a rhyme for yeah.
Yeah?
Yeah.
I’m wasting time here. I have to go get in shape. Wanna see my muscles?
Sure.
That’s not you.
Whatever.
Can I go to sleep now?
One last thing.
I know.
Are you the girl who butted the bull off the bridge?
No
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Are you the girl who let the canary out of the cage?
No
Are you the girl who went to town with her pants upside down?
Good night Waz.
Good night Pumpkin.
So . . . Waz went into training and he trained and trained for the big match and one day
he was ready, fit as a fiddle, and he left his apartment in San Francisco that overlooked
the ocean and he closed the door behind him and then went back and filled his cat’s bowl
with enough cat food to last a month and filled a small backpack with some nutritious
snacks and a compass and sunglasses and a good book and then closed the door again and
as he walked the three blocks to the ocean the neighbors cheered him and raised their
hands to shake their fists in the air and they yelled things like: Atta boy, Waz! Send a
postcard! Sayonara Sucker!
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PART 2
“Have you ever been swimming in the ocean?”
“Of course. I’ve been to Pomp’s Pond and Cape Cod and someday I’m going to
California. I love swimming in the ocean.
“Well then, you know how swimming in the ocean is not the same as swimming in
Pomp’s Pond.”
It’s deeper.
Deeper than deep. So deep that if you were to run from the top of the ocean to the
bottom it would take you about three hours, and every step you took it would take you
deeper and deeper and pretty soon it would be dark and then pitch dark like walking into
a closet and turning off the light and then there would be no more seaweed cause even the
seaweed can’t live without light and then there would be no more fishies swimming
around and the deeper you went, the more your ears would hurt, like swimming to the
bottom of Pomp’s Pond only ten thousand times more and that’s called something like
hydrostatic pressure—the weight of all the water above you. 35,000 feet of water! It
would look like this:
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Hey Waz, is this a story or a science lesson?
I’m not Waz. Waz is the wrestler in our story. I’m just the guy, Mr. NoOneKnows Who,
telling the story how I heard it and it is part story and part science.
Your are too Waz. Everyone knows, and can we skip the science part and get to the story
part? Pleeese?
Anyway, the deeper you get, the fish get uglier and meaner and more ferocious cause
nothing nice and pretty can live down there and if you want to see for yourself just turn
the page. But, if you’re easily frightened, then I would skip the next page if I was you.
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SKIP THIS PAGE !!!!!
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So . . . Waz started swimming, on his back, swimming out into the deepest part of the
ocean and for a while he squirted sea water out through his cheeks like a fountain and
that was fun for about a day and then he cupped his hands and squirted sea water through
his palms and that was fun for about a day and . . .
I looked at the pictures.
What?
I looked at the pictures and they scared me and now I’ll never go to sleep, Waz.
I’m not Waz,. And I told you to skip that page.
I know, but I just peeked and . . .
Okay then. We’ll make something nice happen so you forget the ugly creatures on that
last page and no matter what, do not go back to that page.
I promise.
One day a pelican named Stanley was flying overhead and from the sky he thought Waz
was an island or something because pelican eyes aren’t so good and because of the way
Waz’s hair is never combed and looks sort of like a bunch of palm trees after a hurricane
and how the hair on his chest looks sort of like a field of weeds and as he swooped down
for a much deserved rest on the beach Stanley suddenly realized that it was the first island
he had ever seen that wore sunglasses and that read books and that whistled. Imagine
that, a whistling island. Realizing that maybe it wasn’t an island after all and that
possibly it might be an ugly pelican-eating creature from the depths of the ocean, Stanly
put on the brakes screeeeech but it was too late and he crash-landed on Waz’s chest in a
flustering flutter of squawking feathers.
Fer Pete’s sake. I’m reading here. Watch where yer going.
Pete? Who’s Pete? I know no Pete and whatcha reading and what is reading and what
are you some kind of ugly creature and yer not going to eat me or anything like that are
you cause pelicans taste terrible in case you don’t know and the name’s Stanley what’s
yers?
Waz. It’s Waz and I’m a person and I’m not going to eat you and reading is about books
and words and rhymes that tell stories and now you’re part of the story.
Story? What’s a story blorey gorey dorey shorey morey pooporey fooforey . . .
Stop it!
Morrie norrie corey lori ga-google-dee-dory.
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Stop it stop it bo-boppit. Rhymes are for sometimes and not all the times and not stupid
rhymes like ga-google-dee-dorey. A good rhyme is sublime, like the scent of wild
thyme.
And Lime, Waz. You forgot Lime.
What was that? That voice royce moyce.
Oh, that was Lila-Lee. She’s in the story, too, and she wants to move to California and
swim in the Pacific Ocean. But it’s her bedtime, and her sister Emma-Deera and her
brother Mister Whister. Anyway, they’re in bed, trying to go to sleep and their mom,
Fluffy, is reading them this story.
Ha ha.
There it is again! Where is she?
She’s in the book. I told you. Just like you now and I promised her something funny so
she’d forget the part about the horribly ugly flesh-eating creatures at the bottom of the
sea.
Bottom of the sea is scary I agree and not a place for me, I guarantee.
Nice rhyme, Stanley. But the bottom of the sea is where I swim, where the light is dim,
to wrassle Tim.
WHAT did you just say . . .
Tim. The Giant Squid.
Don’t ever say that word! Don’t say it don’t say it don’t say it. Don’t whisper it, don’t
speak it. Don’t think it, don’t wink it. Don’t speak it, don’t shriek it. Don’t yell it
bo-bell-it.
Bo-Bell-it?
Stay away from the deepest ocean my brave bo-boshun. Forget such a notion my silly
galoshun. He will mistreat you and cheat you. He will defeat then EAT you! I will not
stay for such horror as awaits the swimming explorer.
Hey, Stanley. Come back!
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Where’d he go, Waz?
He just left. His eyes got really big and he flew off. Just like that.
Please turn around, Waz. Turn around and swim back to San Francisco. Now!
I cannot. I will not. I am Waz the Greatest Wrassler in the World and I am not afraid of
Ti . . .
STOP! Stanley said never to say it and Pleeeeeese turn around. I’m scared.
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Don’t be scared. I have wrassled Anacondas in the jungle and Polar Bears in the North
Pole and Crocodiles in the zoo and . . .
You made all that up, Waz. You haven’t wrestled anything. Honest. You have to
believe me. It’s made up. But Tim is not made up. He’s real. He’s real. He doesn’t
care about your stupid book. Pleeeese turn back.
First of all, I am not Waz. I keep telling you that fer cryin out loud. And second of all . . .
and second of all . . . and second of all . . . I forgot what was second of all.
I want to go to sleep now, Waz. I’m going to dream about Stanley.
Alrighty my little Almightly.
Thank you for inventing Stanley. And Part 3 will be all about you swimming home,
okay?
Are you the girl who butted the bull off the bridge?
No
Are you the girl who let the canary out of the cage?
No
Are you the girl who went to town with her pants upside down?
Good night Waz.
Good night Pumpkin.
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