Chapter 7 – Three-Gluv Monty

Three GLUVs lay on a round marble table. Local Test-Tube pugilist, The Ganja Grin, stares intently with beads of sweat forming at the base of his forehead. 

“Go on, make your move… dork.” Behind the table is Pusha T-Raw taunting Ganja like a shifty card dealer. 

Ganja takes his green wristband and wipes the sweat off.

“Ding Ganja, ya sweatin’?” T-Raw mocks. “It ain’t that serious … just sock it to me.”

Ganja grits, “Shut up, punk! Just lemme jab–lemme jab for a second!” Ganja indecisively proceeds to choose the GLUV on the left. 

“Bet your MF screws on it, that GLUV is the one?” T-Raw disputes. 

Ganja goes switch mode on T-Raw as he chooses the GLUV on the right. “Grin me punk,” the grinning reprobate says. 

T-Raw flips over the GLUV, revealing a red card to Ganja’s dismay. T-Raw jab checks Ganja in the left arm. He takes much delight in his bait-and-switch mind tactic. 

“Jab’n Much Damage!” Ganja hollers. 

In the background of T-Raw’s Krib living room, M.D. Q chills on the couch, entranced in his Project SPICE Monthly magazine, unable to take a wink off the page. “You guys are both jays,” Q quips. “Why not go to Slim’s Park and play Three-Gluv Monty pha-real?”  

“I don’t know Q, wholesale packages of BEF go on down there… the bad kind,” T-Raw puts away the GLUV. “Just last week, a Battler got Beaten In Peace for talk’n the ounces to a Breaker Tribe. Stripped him of his GLUV, shoes, even his Pugilist Identification Card. Poor B-Bap either has to forge a fake or buy a new one, which costs about as much as a spot-punch to the liver.” 

The magazine elongates as M.D. Q becomes more fixated on a picture of Bippa Barry featured in that issue. “Boxa’s-Honey-Ice-Tea,” Q says under his breath. “C’mon, T-Raw, you can’t shield the L-seven from fist fiends forever. The Grin’n Bastard could learn a tactic or two from hustle box’n.” 

Ganja grins, “Both of you are Pusha punks, I jab mines.”

“Ganja, shut ya trap!” Pusha T-Raw and Q mollywhopped.

The Grin Unit roadwalks from T-Raw’s Krib to Slim’s Park. They take Roadwork Alley, a long inclined stretch of road that circles back to T-Raw’s Krib, along with other pugilist amenities such as King’s Store, where Bonita Applekeys works part-time. Along the walls of the sidewalk, Pushas and pugilists graffiti GLUV designs, names of their tribes, and other symbols that act as pugilist hieroglyphics. Some with lewd lyrics like: My GLUV to her liver, the ropes doing three-sixties. Others act as stark reminders of past traumas like: Remember the BEF of ‘92. Towards the end of Roadwork Alley, a tag labeled: We The Last Fists. 

“Remember T-Raw, during our Backpack’n days?” M.D. Q says as he slaps the wall where the symbol is. “And then this Gackass came along,” Q points to Ganja. 

Ganja grins unphased, “G’mon Q, you know you had some good times being my Mad Dokta. It’s times like this, right here–right now, you gotta jab it and grin it like I always say!”

Q roadwalks the same pace as Ganja. “You’re right G–hey, remember this?” Q stifles his laugh as he trips the grin’N cornball. 

“Pusha punk,” Ganja grumbles, barely regaining his footing. 

Unbeknownst to the Grin Unit, an unknown figure follows behind.

Box check. Shows On.

EXT. SLIM’S PARK – DAY

Tribes of pushas and pugilists congregate towards the back of the park. They gather for a game of Three-GLUV Monty. A former Warhol known as 3-Jabs uses verbal combinations, while three New Gacks lined up on the K-Board do the physical form. 

THREE-JAB: Watch-thuh-GLUV now, watch-thuh GLUV! See-thuh-combo, choose the GLUV. BIP thuh-wrong one… well, you’ll know afterwards. Now you saw-thuh-tactics, choose-thuh- GLUV!

The Opposing Punch’n Pugilist takes half of a ten count to decide. He points to the New Gack on the left.

OPP: Bingo-boxo!

THREE-JAB: Ok, bingo-boxo, my-man, bingo-boxo. Wanna double it? 

Q whispers to Ganja.

M.D. Q: This part is my favorite.

The OPP lays down a couple more BEF stamps. He jabs the New Gack on the right. Three-Jab smiles from ear to ear. 

THREE-JAB: Sorry, bingo-boxo-my man, but it was New Gack numero uno-better BEF next time.

The New Gack that was picked starts to BEF the OPP, clearly out of his league. The New Gack BIP’D the Backpack pugilist in no less than thirty seconds. The crowd roars in a trolling frenzy, talking the ounces as they call it. 

CROWD: AHA, WHO BEF’D YA?!! WHO BEF’D YA?!!

Bruised both physically and mentally, the OPP limps away with his head down, shrouded in shadow.

Three-Jab spots M.D. Q and T-Raw. He roadwalks over to them. 

THREE-JAB: Ayo Q.W. is that you? 

M.D. Q: One Tribe!

THREE-JAB: One GLUV!

M.D. Q and Three-Jab do an elaborate handshake. 

Three-Jab gives a nonchalant head nod to T-Raw.

THREE-JAB: T-Raw.

T-RAW: Three-Jab. 

Ganja stands close by T-Raw with his head down, as he meticulously adjusts his wristband. Three-Jab notices and decides to break the proverbial BEF.

THREE-JAB: Heard you push for a new pugilist. The names Three-Jab.

Three-Jab looks at Ganja, then the crowd. It was as if in that instant a Heavy B had dundercutted him in the dome.

THREE-JAB: Gotta jab, for a Test-Tube that survived The Fridge, that’s mighty impressive. Say, why not grin your pugilist skillz to my three New Gacks? Could be good for business. I’ll even split some BEF stamps with y’all even if he loses. Unless… T-Raw you’re still too uppity?

T-RAW: Uppity?

Q’s doughboy tendencies begin to take hold as he takes T-Raw to the side to prevent any further BEF.

M.D. Q: You’re against hustle box’n, I get that. But your nine-to-four at Ring Depot isn’t enough to cover the fees and expenses of keeping a pugilist with a wired grin in the ring. Let the L-seven make us some BEF stamps!

GANJA: Don’t I get a jab in this?

T-RAW: Jab check.

M.D. Q: Jab check. 

The two pushas without missing a beat, jab Ganja in the arm.

GANJA: JMD punks!

Three-Jab sets up a new game of Three-GLUV Monty. Ganja stands on the K-Board while three New Gacks stand before him. 

THREE-JAB: Alright, new BEF, new BEF. Three Gacks stand before you. One Gack starts a tactic while the other two follow the trend. Jab the Gack you think started the tactic. Jab the wrong one and you BEF that Gack for a round.

T-RAW: How do we know if he picks right, you won’t switch up on him? 

Some pugilists from the crowd pounded their GLUV together in agreement. Three-Jab slips a glare to T-Raw, but the ex-Warhol knew what to do. 

THREE-JAB: Just to be fair, I’ll choose a random unaffiliated third party, to keep it a system of Box’N Balances. 

The three New Gacks snicker at one another. 

NEW GACK 1: Don’t he mean checks and balances?

NEW GACK 2: That’s what we call a pugil pun-ch!

NEW GACK 3: Badup Teh! (Air whiffs drum set) 

Three-Jab picks a young honey-slip from the crowd. 

THREE-JAB: How about you Miss… 

BONITA: Bonita. 

GANJA: Appleke–!

T-Raw and Q try to close Ganja’s outburst. 

THREE-JAB: If Ganja chooses, then Bonita will tell us if he chooses right. My BEF is bond. 

The New Gacks start the combo. The first punch is a lead uppercut. Second, is a straight cross. And last is a jab. A five-two-one. The New Gacks do the combo repeatedly in a row. 

THREE-JAB: Watch-them-close-now-watch-them close. The pugilist that survived The Fridge plays Three-GLUV Monty. 

Ganja stands awkwardly as the crowd around looks with anticipation. The Test-Tube scratches his peach fuzz and wipes away beads of sweat with his wristband. He then remembers an old rhyme his father taught him when making big decisions. He points at each Gack in a row until he finishes.

GANJA: Ginga-Gunja-Goony-Gin. If he jabs them, let him win. Ginga-Gunja-Goony-Gin. 

Ganja point jabs the New Gack on the far right.

THREE-JAB: Are you sure?

Ganja switches and jabs the New Gack on the far left. The New Gack slips it and the two start to BEF on the K-Board. Ganja uses ginga tactics to dodge the New Gack’s swarming tactics. While the BEF is on, T-Raw and Q sneak over to Bonita in the crowd. 

M.D. Q: Bonita! You’re supposed to be at King’s! What about business?!

Bonita gives M.D. Q a Dempsey roll of the eyes. 

BONITA: Please, what business? That store is lucky if it gets a couple of B-Baps looking to buy their first wraps. Saw you guys roadwalk down Roadwork Alley and decided to close shop for the day and follow you.

T-Raw ignores the chatter as he looks intently at Ganja and the other New Gacks. The BEF ends. 

THREE-JAB: Ooh-you chose wrong the first time, but Three-Gack Monty is a benevolent game. Best 2 out of 3. You get another chance to jab the right OPP. 

The New Gack steps to the side. The other two use the same tactic as before. 

THREE-JAB: Tell ya what, I’ll even let you collaborate with your Unit on this one.

Ganja, T-Raw, and Q huddle together. 

GANJA: So jab it to me, who-ga’ think it is punks? 

M.D. Q: Bonita knows, but won’t tell us. 

T-RAW: Mhmm, I have a theory, but it’s kind of simple even for you Ganja.

GANJA: I am raw!

T-RAW: Based on what I’ve seen, the first one’s punches were on the soft side. Almost like he wasn’t too sure of himself.  The second New Gack seemed like he was overselling it. His punches were over-exaggerated and flashy. Of course, there is a third option. Just walk away, not play the game at all. Not all BEF needs to be fought. However, you respond, that’s up to you though. 

Ganja steps up to the K-Board again. 

THREE-JAB: So Ganja Grin, which New Gack is it, my hitta? 

GANJA: Listen Three-Jab, it’s been fun and all but– 

Just then, the B-Bap from before returns with a squad of Pugil Police on the scene. 

B-BAP: There officer, illegal hustle Box’N!

POLICE: Pugil Police, nobody BEF!

The crowd scatters roadworking in every direction. Three-Jab and his Gacks try to fold up the K-Board, but one of the New Gacks gets tased in the process by a shock GLUV. The Grin Unit along with Bonita slip past the chaotic situational haymaker. Roadworking back to T-Raw’s Krib.

M.D. Q: So Bonita, which New Gack was it?

BONITA: You were all overthinking it because it actually was the third one Ganja originally picked. 

T-RAW: You’re lucky dork.

Ganja grins.

GANJA: Never thought I’d jab this, but good grin for pugil snitch’N!