A simple answer, is no, but the beefcake in this entry is thicker than the Yellow pages. I never thought I would be saying this, but welcome back our old friend Butch!
My loyal readers would recall that the last appearance of Butch amidst these humble pages almost resulted in your beloved authors unsightly demise if it weren't for my superfriends. This time however, yours truly was no where near the heat of the action. And neither was Butch...
But his lack of involvement deteriorated rapidly.
The point-guard on Butch's team, a tiny rat-faced fellow I wish to refer haphazardly as Boykins, was running around the court, elbowing and shoving his way to nowhere against our big center, whom I shall call Bogut, cos' nobody on my team knew him so we probably won't be high-fiving him if he ever got to the free throw line.
Finally, on one play near half-court, rodent-faced Boykins was nudged by what seemed like an inadvertent forearm by Bogut and tiny Tim flailed his arms in sync with an unnecessarily loud grunt.
This guttural sound resonated with Butch's simple synapse mapping, which most resembled cave dwellers. His prehistoric sense of protecting his tribe spurred his muscle bound body to action, huffing and puffing his way to the center of the foray.
"I didn't push him on purpose."
"Of course you didn't push him on purpose!"
"If I did he won't be standing."
"You want to step outside?"
"He's been elbowing me the whole game!"
"Me big! Boykins small! Bogut big! Me protect small Boykins from big Bogut!"
"Grunt!"
That's what I heard in snippets while I distanced myself from the whole shenanigans. Incidentally, I bumped into Boykins on the way when leaving the scene. I was also smiling and giggling gaily away as I witnessed a mind-bogglingly dumb situation unfold. Interestingly, Butch wasn't the only one riled up. Another muscled knucklehead, whom I will call Marion for his over-athletic prowess, was also getting mad! I have no clue what his deal was. Perhaps the guttural grunt of masculinity unites beefcakes., but I doubt this, for our resident muscle representative, D.Howard, remained unaffected and even appeared bored by what transpired.
So clearly, not all beefcakes are thick. However, even the thickest of beefcakes still manage to show encouraging signs of a limited capacity to learn because at least this time, Butch kept his shirt on.
Well done! You CAN still fight and throw chairs with your shirt on. Here's a banana.
