In this next chapter, Ozzie accompanies his twin brother 'Praxido' out to Katy Boys Farm. There they get to witness a megaball tournament hosted by the orphanage where "Ranger" Guerrero anticipates being the guest celebrity for the day.
Only that's not exactly what the retired sports legend has planned for the pair. He actually wants to see firsthand whether his brother Oswaldo can carry off an effective impersonation of the world famous sports legend and convince starry-eyed fans it's really him.
In this next chapter, Ozzie accompanies his twin brother 'Praxido' out to Katy Boys Farm. There they get to witness a megaball tournament hosted by the orphanage where "Ranger" Guerrero anticipates being the guest celebrity for the day.
Only that's not exactly what the retired sports legend has planned for the pair. He actually wants to see firsthand whether his brother Oswaldo can carry off an effective impersonation of the world famous sports legend and convince starry-eyed fans it's really him.
Hello and welcome back to Season Two of Twin Paradox. I'm King Everett Medlin and what you're listening to is a SciFi trilogy I wrote four years ago under the pen name Purple Hazel. Twin Paradox follows my first podcast series entitled Deathwalker Colony, which is now a full length novel available for purchase on Amazon, along with the first two books in the Rijel 12 Series, the Rise of New Australia and Return of Anarchy. Go online and check 'em out!
In this next chapter, Ozzie accompanies his twin brother Praxido out to Katy Boys Farm. There they get to witness a megaball tournament hosted by the orphanage where "Ranger" Guerrero anticipates being the guest celebrity for the day. Only that's not exactly what the retired sports legend has planned for the pair. He actually wants to see firsthand whether his brother Oswaldo can carry off an effective impersonation of the world famous sports legend and convince starry-eyed fans it's really him.
Twin Paradox is a SciFi series encompassing three full length novels, all of which can be found on Amazon.com. You can go online and purchase them, or, if you prefer, listen to me read them to you. So let's keep going. Ladies and Gentlemen, Part 6: Legends and Impostors. Chapter 32: Fast as I Used to Be.
Just what was he about to say? Ozzie could only wonder. Maybe he was simply missing glory days long past. It’d probably be like that for some time as Ranger adjusted to the realities of retirement, his physically much younger twin could only assume. Might be a year of recovery before his brother even got to feeling healthier for one thing. That’s probably what was bugging poor Práxedis Guerrero right now.
“Yeah, that’s gotta be it,” Ozzie thought to himself, “wishes he could heal up quick, like he used ta’, ‘n get back out there – maybe just for a season – maybe for just a game or two. Feel the thrill of it just one last time.”
Oswaldo could only begin to imagine what that might truly be like for a professional Megaballer like Ranger who’d experienced such insanity.
“120,000 screaming fans, coaches shouting from the sidelines, excited teammates, the other team trash-talkin’. Gettin’ to run and hit and tackle and score. Bet it really eats at him sometimes not bein’ out there on that field.”
But then suddenly Ranger clapped his hands together to signal he had something new to discuss. He brightened up once again and said “Hey … you know what? Why don’t you and me head out to the Katy Boys Farm together? They got themselves a tournament up ‘ere today and I bet you’d love to see what’s happened to the place since ya’ been gone. It’s all different. ‘N them kids – they’ll love seein’ me too. I try to git out there whenever I hear they got matches bein’ played at their home stadium. Wanna go?"
Up until then, the young Ensign from Space Programme was lost in thought. Ranger's change of direction caught him off guard.
“Stadium?” asked Ozzie, now with mouth agape, “You mean they got a stadium out there now?” Ranger smiled and chuckled at his reaction.
“Shit yeah!” confirmed Ozzie’s identical twin. “Apparently when you was sayin’ they got bought off back when we was kids, they musta put that money to good use. They got ‘emselves three little league fields for pee wee’s. Couple practice fields. One big ‘ole regulation-size field with a grandstand. It’s got a press box too – and a shaded camera platform for filmin’ games. Ain't lyin'. They're serious nowadays.”
Hearing this, Ozzie started snickering with a look of hilarious surprise on his face. “Seriously?” he asked in disbelief.
“Yep,” said Ranger. “Teams ‘round here hate playin’ us ‘cause we’re so tough. But programs from around the state ‘ll come to tournaments down in Katy juss so’s they can see how well they match up with our boys. Hell, I even saw a high school freshman squad come in and play our 13-year-old team once. Barely beat ‘em. I mean to tell ya’, we’re good.” Ozzie shook his head in amused disbelief.
“Well then hell yeah! Let’s get to it!”
Sure enough, that afternoon after Ozzie finished his bowl of gumbo, they made their way through the town out to Katy Boys Farm to watch the kids play. Had an amazing time. Ozzie had changed into the pair of Ranger’s old blue jeans and a polo style shirt that had University of Oklahoma’s logo on it. Then he let Ranger talk him into driving so that the banged-up sports legend could keep an icepack on his sore back. Spent a few short minutes learning how to operate the vehicle, then the two men promptly hit the road like a couple of fraternity brothers going out for a beer run.
Ozzie had so much fun driving, he couldn’t stop thanking his brother for the experience. Such a nice car. Fast and sleek. Solar-powered luxury sedan designed by Mercedes Benz then manufactured in (of all places) Brazil. It had been imported to North America by the local car dealership where Ranger had paid cash for it.
But to Ozzie’s dismay, when they got to the fields, Ranger surprised him even more. Blew his mind even, when he instructed his brother to go out onto that field alone. As Ozzie parked the car along a dirt road packed with family transport vans and solar sport utility vehicles, Ranger told him of his plans for the day.
“Now brother, how ‘bout you go on ahead o’ me and pose like you’re Ranger Guerrero? See if ever-body thinks yer me,” said Práxedis with a mischievous grin. “Like you did when you was at the airport - when you was at the bar. I bet they buy it if you do it up right.” He then shifted in his seat a bit and added, “Let me just stay here and rest a while, okay? Whaddyah say bro’?”
His much younger-looking twin was hesitant about taking on such a task - especially after what he'd gone through the night before.
“Wait, wait … just a minute there Práxido,” protested Oswaldo. “You mean you want me ta’ walk out there and pretend I’m you? Nah. I can’t do that. Come on man! These ain't drunks at a goddang saloon. These are local kids who idolize you, brother. What if somebody comes up who knows you; and asks me somethin’ I don’t know?”
However, Ranger was quite adamant about him going solo.
“They ain’t gonna do that. Ever-body out there … they seen me around the place fifteen or twenty times over the years. Ain’t nothin’ to it. Just go out there and find an old boy with a shaved head and a big belly named Ronny Joe. Black cowboy hat. Black sneakers. Ya’ can’t miss him. That’s Dusty’s eldest son from his first marriage. He coaches the Little Tykes division … the seven and eight-year-olds in other words. Go say hi, and shake hands with him. He’ll be too busy to talk to you ‘til halftime most likely … might even hafta wait ‘til after the game. But he’ll prob’ly have ya’ come speak to the kids … ‘r pull the two teams together after the match and call you out on the field to come say hello to ‘em. You can do it. It ain’t no big deal really. Me, I’d rather just sit here and rest my back. I had a rough mornin’ gettin’ that house clean ‘fore you arrived.”
“Práxido, no,” Ozzie continued to argue. “That’s fucked up ‘n you know it. They wanna see you bro’, not some astronaut from Space Programme. Nobody cares ‘bout that shit. I ain’t you … no matter how ya’ got me dressed. Seriously. Let’s go out there together and you just tell ever-body ya’ got a twin brother, ‘n….”
The retired megaballer was already shaking his head. Wouldn’t take no for an answer.
“Nope. You’re gonna do it. Believe me, you’ll do juss fine,” interrupted Ranger. “Here, let me show you what my autograph looks like. I keep some of these with me just in case I ever get pulled over for speedin’.”
Ranger snapped open the console right behind the solar drive engagement lever sticking up between them while Ozzie sat shaking his head, hand draped over the steering wheel. From inside of it Ranger produced a stack of signed photos of himself, posing in his Dallas Wrangler’s uniform, holding his scarlet helmet under his arm, glaring back at the camera like he was about to kick someone’s ass. It had been the photographer’s idea, not his. Normally he’d smile big with his jagged white teeth, just like Ozzie often did.
“Here bro’. Take these with you ‘n feel free ta' pass ‘em out. Keep one for yourself so's you can copy my signature if someone wants you to autograph somethin’ special,” he instructed his identical sibling. “Stay ‘til there ain’t no more people and no more kids wantin’ 'em. Pose for a couple pictures with some o’ them horny housewives too … whatever they want. It’s real simple bro’. You kin do it.”
Ozzie was still opposed to the idea, but ultimately yielded when he heard that last part.
“Woh, wait a minute … just how horny are we talkin’ here?” he asked – only half-jokingly. “I’m on shore leave after all … ‘n ya’ ain’t said nothin’ ‘bout no horny housewives up ta' now.”
Ranger snickered, “Oh yeah bro’. Dozens of ‘em out there. They’ll grab yer ass when nobody’s lookin’, get ya’ to bend down and hug ‘em … then press their big titties up into yer face - makin’ like they’re bein’ all friendly ‘n shit. Lot of ‘em are ugly fat bitches, but hey … just think of ‘em as like a warm, fluffy mattress with a cleavage … and a wet pussy. Yeah, don’t forget that. They all got one o’ them thangs too. Ever-last one of ‘em.”
He then smirked humorously.
“O’ ‘course when they’re all hot ‘n sweaty from bein’ outside in that heat today … you prob’ly won’t wanna be thinkin’ ‘bout nasty shit like that. ‘Specially with them real big gals.”
In reaction, Ozzie doubled over laughing at his twin brother’s sick sense of humor.
“Nah, no worries, bro’. You had me at big titties,” chuckled Ozzie. “I kin definitely handle that!” Ranger clarified humorously, “Big damn titties brother – lots of ‘em. Some of 'em are still nursin' babies, after all. ‘N you’ll be the highlight of their day let me tell ya’.”
He then laughed boisterously.
“So you’ll do it?”
Ozzie sighed and rolled his eyes. Then he nodded with a broad smile creasing his face. And from that point on, the rest of the day belonged to Ranger’s identical twin Oswaldo Guerrero.
Oh the fun he had ! This was even better than the night before! Literally everywhere he went he was recognized. Kids screaming his name, running up to hug his legs. He slowed down and walked shuffle-step like his brother - just to carry it off believably and make the illusion more real. Women would pose for pictures with him. One rather big gal, who was wearing a hot pink tank top which she was quite nearly spilling out of, had him sign her upper back with a red marking pen. Another had him sign her chest, right above the left breast, pulling the material back to give him room to write. Ozzie enthusiastically complied with all their requests. As for the husbands? They merely chuckled and shook his hand right after each encounter. Didn’t seem to mind one bit.
No one went away empty-handed. He stayed for over an hour until everyone had a chance to meet or get an autograph. He even got to give a speech after one of the games! Slipped up and said the word “mission” instead of “match” one or two times, but otherwise he carried it off without a hitch. Stayed out there in that brutal Southeast Texas humidity, while his brother sat in the car with the air conditioning on full blast. On a sunny day like today he knew from experience he could run that thing until well after dark.
Yet as he sat there, the now broken-down old warrior, who proudly possessed three diamond-studded world championship rings, several nearly unbreakable records, as well as accolades aplenty from both his college and professional careers, relaxed in climate-controlled comfort and began to think. The wheels were turning in his clever mind. The same mind by the way which had been both sharp and keen even when faced with seemingly insurmountable challenges throughout multiple seasons in the Professional Megaball Association.
He thought once more about his twin brother’s uncanny ability to convince people he was him. He could even see, way off in the distance, as Ozzie would walk around, people waving at him and Ozzie waving back. No one – absolutely no one seemed to give it a passing thought it might not actually be the former all-pro Center Back. He saw Oswaldo walk right up to Ronny Joe Kenefick - Dusty's eldest son - and shake his hand. The big man suspected nothing, he could tell. He saw Ozzie pretend to grab his lower back as though in pain or discomfort, just to convince people he was Ranger. Saw him mimic his walk too. Oswaldo seemed to have it down pat already. A near-perfect impersonation of the retired sports legend. Ranger was dutifully impressed!
“Shit … dead ringer,” he muttered to himself with a laugh. “And yet if that motherfucker wanted to, he could sprint down that field and outrun damn-near ever-body. Even the varsity. Right now – I bet he could. Bet he’s just as fast as I used to be ….”
But then it really, really hit him. Right square in the kisser. His scalp began to itch. He started sweating above his upper lip. He felt his scrotum tighten. All the things that happened whenever he’d get to thinking about something devious – they seemed to hit him at once.
Once more he began getting a truly absurd, downright dangerous (if not absolutely foolhardy) idea. It had started earlier that afternoon in the back of his mind but he’d suppressed it the first time. Didn’t feel he could put it into words. Most certainly felt Ozzie would think he was off his rocker if he’d had the audacity to say it. But nevertheless it was as bold of an idea as he’d ever had. Despite being broken down and hobbled, his mind was still as crafty as ever. That had always been his trademark, no matter the circumstances.
For a man like Ranger Guerrero, who’d always been brave and fearless, bold ideas that other average men might shrink from attempting were just the type of thing a guy like him might say “why not … what’ve we got to lose?” especially whenever the game was on the line or his teammates needed both a plan – as well as a brash leader with the balls to carry it out. Yes, for men like Práxedis Guerrero, a crazy idea might just as easily become the foundation for an ingenious solution. Something quite possibly insane to contemplate – yet it might just achieve glory on the field of battle for those willing to risk life and limb for ultimate victory. Risk-taking was what he’d always been known for; and most any former teammate could attest to that.
“Yep,” he said to himself as he watched his brother waving at fans while walking back toward the parking lot. “That’s right bro’. They’re buyin’ it. Fuckin’ eatin’ you up. They’re believin’ it’s really me, I can tell.”
Then he paused and got a big grin on his face – sort of like that expression one gets when realizing a way out of a predicament - perhaps when savoring a perfectly seasoned bite of grilled steak.
“We could do it; I’m sure of it,” he said to himself slyly. “Bet I can teach him ever-thang I know. Hire a trainer to get to work on fixin' his footwork. Might take all winter I reckon … but we can pull it off ‘fore spring practices start up if all goes right.”
He paused for a moment imagining it coming together in his notoriously inventive mind. He then nodded slightly as a diabolical glare developed on his face - as though he were some evil genius from an old science fiction movie. “Yeah. Heh-heh. If we play our cards right … I’m certain we can do it.”
Then, in a deep voice, just above that of a whisper, he added, “Only question is – will the Wranglers really believe it’s me?”
This concludes tonight's podcast of Chapter Thirty-Two, Fast as I Used to Be. I hope you enjoyed it. Watch for Chapter 33, which I'll be posting very soon.
Also, and don't forget, my latest full length novel, Deathwalker Colony, is available for purchase right now on Amazon.com, along with the first two books in the Rijel 12 Series: The Rise of New Australia and Return of Anarchy. A link to these is included in the transcript for this episode. Go online and check 'em out!
I'm King Everett Medlin. Thanks for tuning in.
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