FantasticoWashington Wizards at Oklahoma City Thunder“> was discovered by FanSided partner BroJackson.com. For more great content, head on over to Bro Jackson and check out their work. You can follow Fantastico on Twitter for more great advice.
By day, I am a mild mannered caddie. Five nights a week I now moonlight as a sandwich delivery man.
At night, I protect the city of Omaha from violence as Fantastico, Nebraska’s only luchador-real life superhero.
And today, I’m here to answer your questions about survival.
Traction is no joke, people. I was riding a little too high the last few weeks and the universe has knocked me down a few hundred pegs to test my mettle. You’ll have to better than that, universe. Well on my way to moving out, solving the world’s problems with my own brand of non-lethal violence, and settling down with a bodacious babe, I was hit with some unfortunate luck.
In reality, I was hit by a Prius. I never heard that fucking thing coming. Dudes, hybrids are a silent killer.
What I went through would have killed a smaller man. Like a kid or a small animal. No way would they have limped away with a broken femur. They would have just been broken in half, or cried themselves to death. I balled my eyes out, but I gutted it out and waited by the side of the road for 14 hours for a Good Samaritan to have an ambulance pick me up for a ride to the hospital.
How it all happened was pretty stupid. I was working the sandwich beat, when my girl phoned up for a #8 and chips. It was late and slow, so my boss told me to make it my last delivery of the night. Yahtzee! I figured tonight was a good night to let her know the second side of me. My fantastic side, you know. The plan, in my head, was to deliver her chow then go put on my luchador gear in a nearby yard, and finally surprise her with an extra bag of chips and ask her out. Best laid plans, dudes.
I got to her door for the initial delivery, only to see she had a guy over, which kinda fried me. She’s been putting off the vibe. Hardcore. I was steamed. After dropping off her food, she closed the door and said “See you later.” I could have wallowed in my own pity, but I said fuck it, I’m going to go for it anyway. At the very least she’d have to respect the game and the wrestling regalia. Maybe she wouldn’t be down for a date now, but later, once she drops that zero, you never know.
I got my gear on and started across the yard. My light blue unitard must have set off a Doberman, because that bad daddy came roaring out after me. I didn’t realize he was on a chain, because eventually the Doberman was ripped back into his own yard. I slowed down, looked back, and laughed. What would my girl think if she saw me? I looked like a fool running scared. I turned and looked across the street at her apartment and there she was in the window staring at me. Shit.
Instinctually my alpha male kicked in, and I was going to run to her door and explain all the stupidity she’d seen. I’d sweep her of her feet. Possibly make out with her, right there in her doorway rendering her soon to be ex-boyfriend dickless. Instead I ran into the street and was crushed by a Prius speeding through the neighborhood. Fuck me.
I was knocked out. When I came to, her brother (I found out later, I knew I was getting the vibe) was working mouth to mouth on me. I regained my laser focus, and asked him to back off, because I didn’t roll that way. Turns out the Prius was a hit and run, and they couldn’t get the license plate of that Red October that left me for dead. My girl didn’t know it was me, so rather than reveal my secret identity, I manned up, and said I was OK. I couldn’t shake them with my broken leg, and they kept insisting I was shock and needed medical help. I told them to back off, hobbled away, climbed on my Mongoose, and biked off. That’s when she figured it all out. “Mongoose!” she yelled after me. That’s what she playfully called me. My sweet bird now knew the truth. I was two sides of the same kick-ass coin.
I got about half a mile away from the scene, and got off my bike. I couldn’t get all my gear off. The pain in my lower extremities was too great. I took off my mask though. The next morning someone finally helped me out. She said she had seen me the night before, but thought I was some sort of gimmick gang member like from Warriors or something. She figured it was a legit cry for help when she saw me the next morning on her way to work.
Eventually I got my demolished body to the hospital and I’ve been in and out of consciousness for a few days now. Due to some of the swelling I got put into an induced coma. It’s been pretty cool though. The nurses here are beautiful and friendly. This is probably what the afterlife is like except without all the pain. Turns out both my legs were broken and my left (plant) leg was broken in seven different places. A big shout out to pain medicine though. Morphine is the real deal.
I haven’t been able to check my mail, and I just got out of a coma, so, my letter this week is more of a PSA from Fantastico himself.
HOW TO AVOID BEING BLINDSIDED BY A FUCKING HYBRID.
KEEP YOUR HEAD ON A SWIVEL PEOPLE. Remember what your parents taught you when you were little? To look both ways before crossing the street? Well we need to get back to that. I know most of the time you can hear a car coming, so there really isn’t a need to look both ways, but trust me, these planet savers are rolling death. Time to practice what you preach. The way the hybrid is taking off, cars will only get quieter and quieter. Eventually you won’t hear anything. Time to get back to the good old fashioned look both ways.
IF FOR WHATEVER REASON YOU CAN’T LOOK BOTH WAYS, STILL FIGURE OUT A WAY TO LOOK BOTH WAYS. If you’re blind, make sure your dog looks both ways. If you’re a toddler, stay in the house. If you’re a snail, stay on the sidewalk. If you have a neck brace, spin in circles while crossing the street. If you’re a flounder stay in the ocean.
There you go. Fantastico’s survival tips to avoid death by Hybrid. It’s pretty simple. Just the two steps. This is a guideline, not a manual, people. You’ll also have to use some of your innate cunning and guile in order to stop death from a silent car traveling in designated area for cars aka the road.
If, God forbid, you’ve got to cross the street without looking, just go for it. You’ve got a better chance of walking away from a street cross if you do it as quickly as possible. Also avoid urban areas. They are crawling with these silent chariots of modern destruction.
Until next time–stay safe out there, dammit.