Dwarf Tossing & Myths about Little People.

[Bob Grenier]

(Sober for 3 days and feeling brand new, Bob Grenier has made it to New Mexico for Monday Night Massacre. Penniless, he has resorted to setting up a tent in an alley beside a dumpster just down the street from where Massacre is being held. This is not ideal for him, but at this point in time he is just jerking the curtain against little people. He tosses his backpack into the tent and zips it up before he goes for a walk around the neighborhood. As he is walking he comes across a bar called "Launchpad" in the window they are advertising dwarf tossing for the evening. Bob opens the door and enters the bar. The competition has not yet started. Bob proceeds to the bar to sign up.)

Bob: So how does this work?

Bartender: Well, Exactly what it sounds like. You toss Dwarfs at a target.

Bob: I believe they like to be called little people.

Bartender: Ok, We toss little people at a target. Is that Better buddy?

Bob: Doesn't it hurt them?

Bartender: Little people can't feel that shit. They are impervious to pain. You can wale on a little person all day, they ain't gonna feel it buddy. They don't have souls.

(Bob looks appalled by this statement, yet very intrigued. He orders a glass of coke, sans rum and the bartender looks at him funny, he is the only person in the whole place not drinking)

Bob: Up until a couple of days ago, I thought it was socially unacceptable for a man of my full grown stature to harass little people, only to discover this fantastic world of midget abuse.

Bartender:  I know, pretty awesome, Aint it? You're up...

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(At Launchpad, in New Mexico, within a couple of hours Bob Grenier has become a local legend. Not a legend for his beer drinking ability as he has given that up, but for his ability to launch midgets affixed with velcro at a wooden target. He has been tossing midgets in this bar for what seems like an eternity. The patrons and the bar owner have all become aware of this Mondays match with Keg and are delighted to take part in the "training". )

Bob: (To the Bar owner) Who knew abusing little people like this could be so fun. I am having the time of my life. If every day is a good as this one, I may never need to drink again.

Owner: Here, take him this time. We call him Javelin. He refuses to wear a helmet during our raucous activities. Hopefully this is practise enough for your forthcoming match. No need to be easy with him. They like it. Especially this one..

(The owner hands Bob the 2 foot tall dwarf who is not wearing a helmet. He is all smiles as Bob readies his shot. He eyes the target looking sober as can be and rears back hard. He sticks Javelin to the bulls eye and the crowd behind him goes crazy. This is Bob's 7th straight midget tossing bulls eye, something that has never been done before. Pabst Blue Ribbon sprays through the air as the crowd whoops and hollers.)

Patron: Man, I aint ever in my life seen any guy toss a midget like you can. You can do this for a living.

(The Drunk bar patron grabs Bob's arm and raises it in celebration. Bob just smiles and soaks in the adulation as Javelin recovers. Even the midget being tossed at the target shakes his hand.)

Bob: Up until yesterday I was having second thoughts about my match Monday, but you know, I think I can do this. He seems to be having a good time.

(Bob pats Javelin on the head and laughs)

Javelin: Hey, Were people too boss. We just want to be treated like everyone else.

Bob: So you.. Homo minusculeous.. would have no objection if I took another one of your kind, and completely broke him in half?

Javelin: No of course not, he's made the choice to step in the ring. Be careful though boss, midgets are known to become quite aggressive when angered. He could be one of those cocky midgets too, Those 2 foot tall dwarfs who make up for their lack of height with the cockiest attitude imaginable.

 

Bob: Do midgets have Night vision?

Javelin: Yes, Its quite the genetic advantage when lost in crawl spaces, or hunting for food at night in dark fields.

(Javelin is ready to be tossed again, this has become the winning combo. Bob grabs Javelin by his collar and the seat of his pants and nails another bulls eye, Javelin lands dead center on the target, sticks for a second and drops to the floor. He dizzily walks over to Bob as if nothing had happened.)

Javelin: That all you got? You're not gonna beat any little person with a weak ass throw like that. Your aim is on, but you throw like a damn girl man.

Bob: If I get pinned by a midget, do I become one?

Javelin: Absolutely. Oh, and those little turds in the woods behind your house, they ain't rabbit turds Bobby.

(Bob and his new friend share another laugh as the other competitors toss their little people at the target. Bob and Javelin are almost up again.)

Bob: Javelin, If I do beat this guy, I mean really wallop him good, am I going to get a bad rap in the midget circle? Is Keg going to like, call up a bunch of his midget buddies to come and beat me down. Do you guy's gossip with each other?

Javelin: Yes, We hold a monthly meeting in a tree stump in Phoenix, Arizona but don't worry friend, I have your back. If Keg get's his own army together, I'll get my own army together. It'll be WW3.. With midgets.

Bob: Thanks Buddy. I feel a little at ease. You ready?

Javelin: Born Ready.

(Javelin slaps his head with both hands and grunts as Bob set's up for the throw. Bob launches Javelin at the target again for another bulls eye, Javelin detaches himself and comes running back over to Bob as the bar patrons slap him on the back.)

Javelin: Sure took the wind out of the there champ. Hell of a toss boss. You and I might win this thing.

Bob: We have 1 more throw.

(Bob rears back for his final toss of the evening. One more bulls eye will win. He launches Javelin through the air and like the previous 9 times he lands dead center. Bob has a real knack for midget tossing. Javelin get's back up and leaps into Bob's arms as the bar owner hands him $200, the evenings prize money, he hands It over to Javelin the midget as the crowd cheers and chants his name. This may as well be the main event at Wrestlemania. Today Bob Grenier is a god, A midget tossing champion)

Javelin: Bob, You are going to be just fine. Keg does not stand a chance.

Bob: I know Javelin, I know.

(They hug while music plays in the background and confetti falls from the ceiling, like some lame ass movie. Bob puts Javelin down.)

Javelin: Just remember, Do not look him directly In the eyes, Do not get him wet and please Bob, and I mean this, Do not even think about touching his pot of gold. Take my advice and you will do just fine.

(It is approximately 10:00 PM now and Bob is growing tired. He shakes hands with the bar owner and most of the bar patrons. As he is leaving he nods to Javelin one more time, who is now being tossed purely for fun by a couple of Pabst Blue ribbon drinking Rednecks. He walks out the front door and down the street about 4 blocks to where he set up camp for the night next to a dumpster. He crawls into his tend, zips it up and beds down for the evening.)