Leveling Up Ch. 38-48

The pool begins to electrify and Troy rushes forward faster than he ever has in his career as offensive lineman, smashing through oncoming wave after oncoming wave. He's nearly to the edge of the pool, slams his hands against the tile of the pool edge, pulls up, hears sizzling, his body shakes uncontrollably, and falls underneath the water at the edge of the pool.

"Yeah, soak it up like a sponge, buddy," I taunt as I stroll towards the other end of the pool. "Just like your sleazy wife's pussy did with all my sperm!"

The indoor pool room darkens suddenly, vague chanting is audible coming from... somewhere. A glowing red pentagram forms where Troy should have passed, water explodes before splashing, His huge bulking body rockets up above the pool and slams against the tiled floor near the makeshift entrance/exit into the library.

"You think you can really do me like that!" Troy yells in-between heavy breaths. The man looks visible shaken and completed exhausted in his singed clothing. "I signed a contract guaranteeing me a successful career in the NFL. Some shitbag lothario's not going to take that away from me!"

I rush, head first, full speed, and body slam Troy. He is much bigger than I but because I hit him so hard, he flies backwards, smashes straight through the wall, hits a tall bookshelf, and the tomes rain atop his flat neckless head. By the time he pulls himself out of the pile of bounded texts, I tower above him on top of the nearby bookshelves cackling with laughter. He rockets up and runs as fast as he can as bookshelf after bookshelf collapses behind him while I hop back and forth between the tall shelves knocking each over before leaping on. As he runs straight through the hole he created leading back to the private bowling alley, he narrowly escapes being crushed again by the falling bookshelves.

"What was it you did earlier?!" I scream at him as I enter the alley. "Oh yeah, throw fucking bowling balls at me." I shove three fingers into a ball, pull my arms back, wind up for a pitch, and I toss the fucker as hard as I can. The ball careens towards Troy, he ducks, it swooshes past him, and it crashes against the wall of the living room in and explosion of white plaster. A small crew of journalists and camera people that had been filming the blood and destruction in the room from earlier begins to retreat back into the living room.

I hurl another bowling ball, hit him with it straight in his fat gut, knock the wind out of him, cause him to fall, and he spits out a fist worth of blood on to the wood bowling alley floor.

Troy breathes heavily as he picks himself up the ground. He looks at the hole he created between the bowling alley and the living room and he sees Sammy Shasta standing there. "Forget this ridiculous asshole!" he resigns. "Sammy, you fucking conniving bastard. My life was perfectly fine. Before you. Prior to my wife appearing in your trashy TV show. Maybe this asshole is too tough of a bastard even for someone like me to put down. But you ain't strong at all." Troy's chest heaves, neck cords, face goes red, jaw clenches, and he rushes high speed at Sammy.

Sammy goes pale, runs, body shakes and cringes, and he gasps.

A whistling sounds followed by a crack, loud thud, and duller thud. A bowling ball rolls across the carpet of the living room before Troy Daniels, bleeding from his head, collapses. I stride into the room and bend over Troy's huge collapsed unconscious body. "He's breathing!" I yell. "Someone give me a jacket!"

I tie the garment against his head to stem the blood loss. When I stand up I see Sammy Shasta there extending his arm towards me. "I'm Sammy Shasta, celebrity producer of the True Housewives shows," he says.

A condescending smile spreads over my face, my throat clears, head shakes and with hesitation I shake his hand. "Yeah, you're the prick who took pictures of me undressed in a bedroom," I insult.

"I'm a reality show host and drama is what I do for a living, what did you think was going to happen?" he asks, crosses his arms across his chest, and sucks his cheeks in. "You're going to make me so such money. I've got a friend who has a private jet. Can you come Monday? To Los Angeles. I'm going to make you a reality star. Here, this is a check. Its for $60 grand."

I look at the bill and my jaw drops and eyes bulge. More than my annual salary. I see my wife approaching along with Judy and Nathan. Wendy's makeup is all smeared and her hair disheveled. My stomach knots and knees weaken. She fucked another guy again. That sudden burst of power. That didn't come out of nowhere. Something got his attention. Lohrnir. The perverted demon lord inside of us. "Who was it!?" I demand.

"You'll never believe it, Buck Johnson," she says and shows me the Super Bowl ring on her finger next to her wedding ring.

My mouth opens and head tilts before a relaxed smile crosses over my face. "My wife fucked the Central City Rocket? That's awesome." I turn to Nathan. "Hey, my life's become a lot more complicated recently. I could use some help going forward. Since I got the money how about..." I hesitate. "Well, I'm still a teacher. I'm not going to offer you more than whatever you're making here. But I'll match it. What do you say? You want to work for me now? As my assistant?"

Nathan stares at Troy Daniels collapsed body, blinks, and returns his attention to me. "Get paid to hang out with Mr. T?" he asks before smiling and nodding his head. "Sounds like a dream come true."

"Ok Sammy, I will accept on one condition," I respond to Sammy 'The Showman' Shasta. "Only if we all get to go."