TUBE SOCK WAS GOING OFF
May 6, 2021
Bro, what’s your name? Stevie. Bro, Stevie was going off. I’ve never seen anyone wear a headband like that. The Migos were calling you Tube Sock bro. I heard them talking, they were like, yo, that ain’t a headband, this motherfucker cut the foot off a tube sock, he’s wearing the tube on his head. You were in that corner just splashing, right up against the wall too. Every time it went in they yelled TUBE SOCK. You hear that? Nah. I guess I was zoned in.
Brock, you elbowed me so hard in the chest, Compton said. Shit hurts, man. Stay out the paint then, Brock said. I own the rim, bro.
We were on the same team dude. How old are you anyway?
Fourteen. Bro, you’re like six foot three, two hundred. You look like a linebacker.
King of the jungle baby. Just imagine when I’m eighteen. Might go pro, honestly.
Bro, fuck off, Laskie Rudolph said. You have the touch of a gorilla. Shit hit the rim so hard it bounced into the stands. I’ve never seen that before. You almost took off Quavo’s head.
Don’t fuck with me, Lassie, Brock said. You were dumb as fuck out there. I tried to set a pick like fucking ten times, rolling to the hoop wide open. You just dribbled in place, just dribbling, bro. Defender was just standing there, flat footed. Didn’t move a muscle, the guy was meditating while you were dribbling away. Stevie shoulda had the ball more. I counted how many times you passed, Laskie, Stevie said. Single digits, guaranteed. Yeah, Brock’s right. Six times.
Bro, where is Colton? I swear he tried to steal the ball from you. He was pretending to set a pick, but he actually just wanted to steal the ball from you. He had the right idea, too. Fucking sad.
Where’s the winning team anyway? I wanna know what they’re gonna get for winning, Stevie said. The guy was hyping it up like crazy.
Something lame, bro. This guy is full of shit. They had us in the Orthodox church basketball court, I thought we were gonna be at Staples. We’re lucky the water’s free. What are we gonna do now? Schedule says we’re gonna do an hour on stage, but it doesn’t say what.
Bro, can you take that thing off your head? The game’s over. I can’t even hear what you’re saying. Stevie took the headband off sheepishly. Damn, bro, I really thought you had a nasty wart under there or something. Tube Sock with the fucking lump on his temple, ready to scare the hoes. Bro, where the fuck is the rest of our team? Brock left the green room, bodychecking the door on the way out.
I’m glad he was on our team, Laskie said. He caved Compton’s chest in, but the other team had it worse. They were all begging the ref to say he fouled out. He definitely fouled like twenty times. He had Jaxxon Rockefeller wheezing, that other kid had to leave the game.
Eddie Miami, bro, Stevie said. That kid’s handle was insane. He was ridiculous. I hope he’s alright. Laskie didn’t say anything, just brushed at his shoes. They lapsed into nothing, into their own worlds. Stevie stared at the wall of the greenroom, trying to keep his brain smooth. The more wrinkles it had, the harder it was to get things out, once they fell in.
The door jumped open and Brock said, bro, we gotta get revenge on those motherfuckers. The rest of their team came in behind him, settling into the open spaces. I’m gonna ask for Eddie Miami’s autograph, Stevie said. Once he gets out of urgent care. He was like Kyrie out there. Damn, bro. Tube Sock wants that Miami moonlight. What can I say? The kid is a stud.
Is he actually good, or was Laskie just getting cooked like a fuckin steak on defense? We’ll never know. Nah, Eddie Miami was saucy, Brock said. I feel bad I broke him in half there. He’s cool. Now, Compton Rutherford, fuck that kid. ON SIGHT.
Bro, chill, he’s on our team. Compton was sitting crosslegged in the corner of the greenroom, rubbing his chest. Who, me? His voice sounded like a rickety train, about to go off the tracks.
I’m sorry Compton. I must be thinking of someone else. Collins Langford? No. L something, let me think. London Diamondheart. That’s it. That name kills me bro. What kinda Austin Powers shit is that. God I wanna smoke that kid. I’m telling you, we gotta get revenge.
We don’t need revenge, Colton said. They chose the teams like a half hour before the game. It’s not like fuckin Packers Bears, bro.
This is why we lost, no joke. This kinda loser shit.
Brock, we lost because you can’t make a layup, bro. You got like fifty rebounds and scored like ten points. Guess I shouldn’t have lifted weights this morning, Brock said.
Brock is twenty seven, Laskie said. There’s no way he isn’t.
I’ll show you my birth certificate, Lassie. Made in 2006, I’m just built different. And I only got fifty rebounds cause you missed fifty times, taking some dumbass stepbacks.
Can you guys just shut up, Ryan Loveletter said. Chill out, Loveletter. Diamondheart had you on skates bro. I don’t care, Ryan said. Fuck basketball, it’s fascist. OK, twerp, Brock said.
The event promoter walked in, immediately frowned. Really low energy in here, not what I like to see. Bro, Brock said. What are we doing? What’s the plan here.
Well, the winners are finishing up the photoshoot, then you’ll all go on stage and perform for the fans. Perform what? Whatever you want, I don’t know. Isn’t that what you guys do all day long? Yeah, but like, like, like – like, like, you’ll figure it out. Make the girls cheer, that’s my only ask. Make them happy. Real down the middle softball shit, alright? I gotta go set up the stage.
The door shut and Brock said, never seen someone sweat so much. This guy is greasy as a pizza. Guys, what are we gonna do, Compton said.
We could do anything, bro. We’ll have them eating out of the palm of our hand. Yo, we could do that, literally. Have them eat out of the palm of our hand.
What, like a petting zoo? That’s weird as fuck bro, Colton said. Thirty four year old Brock Wippleton feeding his flock of geese. My flock of swans, bro. Beautiful swans.
We need some props, at least, Ryan Loveletter said. Loveletter wants a fake Charlie Chaplin mustache, he’s gonna tap dance up there. Tap-tap-tap-tap-tap, Laskie did an exaggerated impression. You even watch my videos? Loveletter TV? Come on, bro, obviously not.
They scoured the room and its closet for a few minutes until they found a tennis ball and a broom. Not ideal, Stevie said. We can make it work, Tube Sock. Monkey in the middle?
Bro, who wants to get sonned on stage in front of hundreds of people. Lassie’s a fucking nutcase, this guy has the worst instincts I’ve ever seen. Thirty foot stepbacks, can’t even make a layup. Now he’s trying to get us to play monkey in the middle. Only if you’re the monkey, Laskie. I’d get out of that, Laskie said. No question.
The other team walked in, their laughter pushing air into the room. Look who it is. The CHAMPS, London Diamondheart answered. Easy, easy.
Easy to you, bruv. We woulda won by twenty if you didn’t bodyslam Eddie Miami. Not fair play, innit? Fuck off with that fake accent, Diamondheart. But where is Eddie, I should say sorry.
Hospital. You really tuned him up bro. He’s in a full body cast, like some Looney Tunes shit. Seriously? Don’t look so proud, bro. He’s fine. He said he had something to take care of.
What are we gonna do on stage. Is there a plan? Bro, that sweaty fuck left us stranded. We got a tennis ball and a broom. OK? Those are the best props we could find. Jesus Christ. And we’ll get a microphone, I’m guessing. One microphone? I don’t know.
The event promoter came in again, his hair disassembled into strands. Few minutes, you ready? Those gals are riled up in there. Eww, gross dude. Sounds terrible when you say it, Laskie said. Hey, how many microphones are there gonna be? We each gonna get one?
I’ll have to check on that. So not everyone gets a microphone? What are we supposed to do? Stevie looked at Compton’s face and was reminded of that famous painting. The one Chet said evoked the feeling of being high on indica.
Compton, it’s gonna be all good bro. We’ll figure it out. Compton’s got separation anxiety like a fucking Maltese, Brock said. Separation anxiety from what? I don’t know, his mom or something.
The event promoter turned away, reached for the door. Dude, what are we supposed to do out there? You organized this shit and flew us out here.
I told you, you’ll figure it out. Listen, I want you to think of this like the zoo. People go there, they want to see a tiger, a panther, a polar bear. These girls come here, they want to see a Youtube star. They want to be able to tell their friends, I saw him in 2021. I saw him right at the beginning, now look at him. So do what a Youtube star would do.
Do research, make a video, edit it for hours?
You know what I mean. I’m coming back in two.
This is gonna suck, Stevie said. They’re hanging us out to dry.
Gonna see who has charisma when they don’t have an edit button. Loveletter is fucked, bro, Brock said. Stevie took a last look around the room, a small stain of desperation on his chest. He felt like a soldier without a gun, being driven towards his first battle.
On the promoter’s cue they spilled out the door and then into a maze of passages, through the guts of the building, hitting the stage in just a few moments. The three hundred girls there shrieked with rapture.
*
They’re mad on Twitter, kid. That DREAMERCON ticket was a mortgage payment, people going homeless so their daughter can watch Krispin O’Houlihan throw a tennis ball against the wall. Come on, kid. This is just flagrant. When can I be your manager? Kids a ghost at his own show. I name searched you, only thing people were saying is wondering if you were there or not.
What? I did a meet and greet. You did? Doesn’t seem like it. They must have given you the worst possible real estate. Behind the toilet supplies or some shit. Everyone was asking where you were. Did you even meet and greet anyone? I talked to a few people. But my line was pretty paltry. I guess so, kid.
The whole thing was so bad, Stevie said. I can’t lie. It was a disaster. People were saying the budget was only sixty thousand and they gave the Migos 10k each just to show up. The Migos were there? Yeah, they were. How did I not know that?
Guy can’t market for shit, bro. He advertised people that weren’t there, and people who were there weren’t advertised. It was clown shit. Might’ve been just money laundering honestly, I don’t even know. He didn’t seem to care that much by the end. But yeah, the Migos were there, they were sitting courtside at the basketball game just making up nicknames and shouting them out. They yelled Tube Sock every time I hit a three. Why’d they call you that? The headband I wore.
Jesus Christ. You really gotta get me on board. Kids just out there looking like a fuckin cult member.
Yo, chill. No one even cared about the basketball game, anyway. They were all there for the meet and greet. They shouldn’t have even had the stage show, bro. It was so fucked. You see those videos?
Nah, man, Timmy said. Can’t say I’m on Teen Heartthrob Twitter that much. I didn’t see them either, Chet said. I was just searching your name. What happened?
Bro, it was nuts. I can’t even do it justice. Hold on. Stevie pulled up a cellphone video on Twitter.
I know you saw my selfie with Affleck, Laskie Rudolph said. He held the microphone in one hand and fended the rest of the DREAMERCONNERS off with the other. Saw him downtown here, near the Staples Center. He recognized me, actually. Said he might have a role for me in the next Batman. I could play Batman Junior maybe. But who’s gonna be my Catwoman? ME, someone yelled.
Heh, talk to my agency, baby. We’ll see if the fit is right. I hope you like a hardbody. Who wants to see my abs? I’ve been working real hard on them. One thousand crunches every day, like a football player. Who wants to see? He waved his hands in the air, pumping up the crowd. He lifted the shirt up to his bellybutton, rolled it back down. Who’s ready? He lifted it again to the bottom row of abs, rolled it back down.
Can’t even hear the crowd, kid. I know. It wasn’t loud there either.
Laskie rolled his shirt up for the third time, all the way up, and he did have a full set of abs. He leaned back to get the full effect. Look at that. See those? Let’s see if the crowd can count that high. One, two, three, four, five, six, seven, eight? Wow. Everybody, count with me. One, two, three, four, five, six, seven, eight. Certified hardbody. I could take a punch like Houdini baby, I’m magic like that. I just need my Catwoman not to scratch me. Don’t scratch me baby, I know you can’t keep your hands off me.
Yo, FUCK THIS. A figure slid out of the shadows, taking one step in front of Laskie. They pivoted on their lead foot and swung a right hook, punching Laskie hard in the stomach. He crumpled and then puked on a monitor. I wasn’t ready, he cried. I wasn’t ready.
Bro, did a grown man just fucking punch that kid? Nah, it was one of the DREAMERCONNERS. Brock Wippleton. He’s crazy jacked but he’s only fourteen, I guess. If you say so, kid. Clay Matthews ROCKED Batboy, no lie.
Lassie only looks like he has abs cause he’s a twig, bro, Brock said. It was dead quiet and the only sound was Brock, shouting without a microphone. If Affleck says you’re playing Batman Junior, tell him I’m playing Bane Junior. Just terrorizing teenage Batman, making him cry in the cafeteria every day. That’s a real origin story right there. How Bruce Wayne lost a million dollars, a dollar and a quarter at a time. I’m going method on set, too, Laskie, be ready. King of the JUNGLE, baby.
The promoter ran out, his forehead sweat visible on the small screen. I’m so sorry, everybody. This is not the kind of thing we want to see at DREAMERCON. Violence is not part of our vision, part of our DREAMS.
Yo, gimme that. Brock ripped the microphone out of the promoter’s hand. I’m glad there’s another mic, Lassie’s dead bro. Those fingers are just locked onto that thing. Clutching that shit like a million dollar bill. I think he’s unconscious. I knocked this kid into the fuckin shadow realm, bro.
Hey, let one of us have the mic. Hell no, chill out Loveletter. Folks, let me tell you something. Brock stepped out to the very edge of the stage. I give Loveletter the microphone, you’re gonna hear the GAYEST song you ever heard in your life.
The crowd booed. Yo, what? You can’t tell me you actually like Ryan Loveletter. I don’t believe it. Impossible. You musta came late. If you were at the basketball game, you’d be booing him and cheering me. I hit him so hard with the basketball he cried.
Yeah, it bounced off the rim so hard it almost broke my nose, Ryan shouted. This grown man sucks at basketball, everybody. Not as badly as Loveletter TV sucks the life out of the fuckin room, Brock said. The crowd booed again. I could do this all day. You think I’m gonna let Ryan Loveletter win?
You are so ugly and you’re like FORTY, someone yelled. Who the fuck said that? Huh? Huh? You? You look like a dump. A big fat dump. Ass got a case of the Mondays, for real. Definitely a Loveletter fan, I can tell. My fans look way better. The Brockstars are looking thick as hell out there, I love y’all. Can’t wait to see you after the show. He blew a kiss and the crowd booed for a third time.
I got the mic from Laskie, Compton Rutherford said. I tickled his arm till he let it go. Laskie was audibly groaning, just a shape at the bottom of the screen. Yo, Bompton. This is YG’s hitta right here. Bompton’s in Inglewood killing crips fore breakfast. Comes home to mom like BITCH, make me a pancake.
I just want to say, Compton said. He was cut off by a burst of feedback. The promoter was walking around, passing out microphones to each DREAMERCONNER.
Ugh, this part was terrible, Stevie said. Everybody had a microphone, it was chaos. How long were you guys up there? This clip goes for like five more minutes, but we were up there for like an hour. This was honestly the best part. Once they brought the security guard on stage to take the microphone from Brock, it got a lot worse. I mean, it got even worse than this clip. It was really that bad.
What happened to Brock, Timmy asked. He’s not in trouble or anything, Stevie said. Laskie sucks dude, even the girls could pick up on it. I mean, he assaulted him though. Yeah.
Who had the most clout? Definitely Noah Spice. I don’t even know how. The kid looked very addicted to Adderall. His lips were crusted white and his eyes were black, shit was freaky. He was afraid of the basketball, like legit afraid. But his line was endless.
Noah Spice? Yeah, I’d never heard of him either. But bro, I’m telling you, the kid has insane clout. I heard one girl talking to him, she said, oh my god Noah, I’ve wanted to meet you my whole life. Oh my god, this is so crazy. Every day I think about how awful life is, and I honestly just think death would be so much better than living. I just can’t stop thinking about death and how horrible and full of suffering life is. He was like, uh, hope things get better someday. She was like, oh my god, you just changed my life. He was like, thanks.
Wow, there he is. Three hundred thousand on IG, damn. Bro, check how many likes he gets, too. I’ve never seen anyone have a better ratio than him, it’s wild. He just posts, like, a picture of himself slumped over, and the caption says ‘sad’. Two hundred thousand likes, fifty thousand comments, easy. Not like bot comments either, like I can tell it’s real people. I don’t know if it’s a meme but the kid is a star. A white dwarf star I guess.
But dude, you got a similar thing going, Timmy said. Not as many followers but definitely a good ratio like that.
I guess. I feel like I’m going all out every post, this kid just posts himself sleeping, caption is ‘practicing for the end’. Two hundred thousand likes, a hundred thousand comments. He wears like Skechers and shit, it’s just crazy. Hygiene is terrible, too. Guy has a thirty five year old’s teeth.
It’s Noah Spice, kid. Fucking LEGEND. You make me your manager, I’ll have you Noah Spicing it up kid.
Honestly, bro, you can stop saying that. You’re not gonna be my manager. I can’t even get you to stop saying retard on camera.
Kid. I already told you I got a re pass, been stamped since tenth grade.
It actually is true, Timmy said. I was there for both parts. He bounced Chris Tuthill’s head off the lunch table, and then he asked Tommy Sharpley for permission to use that word.
Kid, I couldn’t abide. Chris was being a dickhead to Tommy, shit was lame as hell. Called him retarded to his face, I could tell Tommy felt bad. If that shit doesn’t irk you, I don’t know what does. I slammed Chris’s head off the table so hard they thought the sound came from band class. I love Tommy kid, anyone fucks with him, they’re DONE. I said to Tommy, kid you know I love you, you ever need anything hit me up, I’m deadass. I said, you know, sometimes I say that word too, but only about like, Madden or something. You don’t mind if I say it about Madden right? Tommy said OK. Kid is the fucking man.
Alright, Stevie said. But what, am I gonna explain this in a video? Don’t mind the slur, my cousin is a made man. He got a pass in tenth grade.
Bro, Chet said. Just give me a sliver of creative input, it’s not an issue. Kids letting Dudley Rothschild get the shine while he’s a ghost in the corner, I mean come ON kid. I know, Stevie said. I gotta figure this out.