Don straightened up. He wasn't going to fight. He'd already lost one brother to Emmaneus or whatever he wanted to call himself. At least, one brother and his father would be okay, and maybe if this castration went well he'd been intact again. Castration went well? How much had he drunk?
Holding his head high, Don marched boldly, confidently into the waiting room. Wearing his best game face Don strode toward the gynecological table that awaited on the raised dais.
As he turned to face his audience, Don assumed his classic pose like he'd just scored a touch down, he pulled off his helmet and spiked it on to the stage. He was amazed at how many familiar faces he saw watching him. Two thugs had shadowed him as he walked up to the platform. His "friend" Bill the bartender was playing the part of emcee, and had just introduced him as "Don DeSoto, Star Quarterback as the Man for the Moment." There were laughs and snickers. Don's courage rose, he wasn't going out with a whimper.
"Any volunteers out there want to take my place!" Don joked flashing the best smile he could manage.
"Man, he's got balls," a man in the third row said aloud.
"Not for long!" shouted a young man in the front row.
Don recognized the young man as Tyler Madison, the rich quarterback for the snooty Eastbrook Academy. Don had thought that except for cross town school rivalries, they could have been friends. After the season, Tyler had even invited Don over to his mansion for a swim. He'd been really nice, they'd played the latest video games, watched cable porn. Drunk beer, even a little run from Ty's father's private bar. Even so, Don had been kind of creeped out by the fact that no one else had shown up at the pool party, not even Ty's folks. They'd swum, and shared a private steam bath, and Ty had put his arm across Don's shoulders. He put it off to drunkeness. Ty had even suggested that if Don and he had sons, they'd be super football players. Don stared at Tyler.
"Hey, let's get on with the show, Don. Show some skin, or Bruno and Nick will help," Bill hissed at him.
Don spun around and shook his hiney for the crowd, catcalls echoed. There were even a few cheer leaders that he'd dated in the crowd.
"Shake that booty!"
As his back faced the audience, Don's face fell as he looked at the chair awaiting him. It looked like something out of a Frankenstein movie. But he kept his booty shaking, and slowly raised his jersey over his head allowing the audience to see his tanned back. Time for the game face. He turned back to face the crowd, and threw his jersey blindly into the audience, Carly Witmer caught it. He'd had blue balls over that girl, well he might not have to worry about that ever happening again. He giggled at the thought.
The stripper music continued to boom in the background. He leaned his butt into the chair to balance, as he pulled off one cleat. The muscle tensed prepared for flying spikes, but he dropped it to the floor. The other followed shortly. Soon, Don was wearing only his jockstrap and his shoulderpads. There would be no more stalling, now.
He kept dancing. Bill motioned to Bruno and Nick. They approached from behind.
Suddenly hands slammed into both his shoulders, and Don flew back into the chair. Hands roughly strapped him into the chair, and pulled the shoulder pads over his head.
The attention shifted, as the lights dimmed and a spotlight focused on Manny wearing ornate black and purple robes, and carrying a purple pillow with a shiny silver knife in the center of it. He solemnly walked toward the stage.