Part II
By Cin
Micky rolled over onto his back and stared up at the ceiling for countless minutes before finally giving up on sleep. He leaned over and switched on the bedside lamp—since Mike was off visiting his family in Texas, Micky had the upstairs bedroom all to himself; therefore he didn’t have to worry about waking up his roommate.
He got out of bed and padded out to the landing, thinking that maybe a midnight snack would help him sleep, then carefully made his way down the tornado staircase, partly because he didn’t want to wake Peter and Davy, and partly because of the dark. His eyes soon adjusted, however, and he made his way into the kitchen, where he switched on the small light above the sink and went about making himself a sandwich.
Munching on his snack, he walked over to the large window overlooking the verandah, staring out at the dark ocean, his mind in turmoil. He couldn’t get the image of Cady’s stricken face out of his head, and the more he thought about it, the more it bothered him. He honestly hadn’t mean to hurt her; he’d been so angered by what she’d said about Brenda that he hadn’t been thinking clearly, and the words had rushed from his lips before he could stop them.
But now that he had had time to calm down and think about what Cady had said, he realized with sadness that his friend was right—he was much more interested in Brenda than Brenda was in him. He’d seen her practically run down the beach to Bulk’s side, even though Cady thought he hadn’t, and it had hurt. He really cared about Brenda—okay, so maybe she wasn’t very intelligent and she was kind of superficial, but she was so beautiful he couldn’t tear his eyes from her—and he was determined to win her away from Bulk.
<But how?> he thought. While Micky wasn’t a stork like Mike, he was nowhere near Bulk’s level of fitness, and apparently Brenda dug guys with big muscles. <Maybe if I could make myself look like Bulk somehow…>
Suddenly an idea hit him, and he raced over to the coffee table, digging the car magazine he’d been reading earlier that evening out from the pile that was stacked there. Excitedly he flipped through the pages until he found the classifieds—and the ad he was searching for.
SHAH-KU’S HEALTH AND STRENGTH
Are you a 99 lb. weakling?
Do bullies kick sand in your face at the beach?
Come visit Shah-Ku and go from weakling to bodybuilder in less than 30 days!
100% Guaranteed!
24 Main Street
Malibu, Calif.
Malibu 5447
That was it! The very way to win Brenda over and prove Cady wrong! He decided to visit Shah-Ku’s office in the morning and get more information on the bodybuilding program. <I’m not a weakling, but if it’ll help me get Brenda, I’m all for it!> he thought.
Feeling content now, he went back upstairs to his room and crawled back in bed, turning off the light before immediately falling asleep. His dreams that night were filled with images of beating up Bulk and gaining Brenda’s love.
~*~
Micky paused outside the shabby office building, checking the number above the door against the number listed in the advertisement. Somehow he’d expected more, something fancier and more elaborate—but then again, maybe Shah-Ku was one of those guru types who believed that plain and simple ways were more conducive to learning. He shrugged. Either way, he wasn’t going to find anything out if he stood out here dithering on the sidewalk all day.
He opened the door and walked into the reception area, which was as simply decorated as the outside of the building. The paint on the walls was cracked and peeling, and the few plants scattered about were half-wilted from obvious neglect. <What kind of place is this Shah-Ku guy running, anyway?> Micky thought—and then he saw it.
A huge poster of Charles Atlas tacked to one of the walls with a handwritten inscription on it.
“To Shah-Ku, thanks for the advice—Charles Atlas.”
Micky’s eyebrows climbed up into his hairline. There had to be something to this guy if he had an autographed poster of Charles Atlas, one of the most famous bodybuilders in the country. He reminded himself again, almost sharply, that appearances weren’t everything and set in search of the mysterious Shah-Ku.
There was no secretary in sight, so Micky walked past the check-in desk and pushed open the door just past it. He found himself standing in a large exercise area, filled with all the necessary equipment: barbells and weights, stationary bikes, punching bags, and the like. More importantly, it appeared to be all top-of-the-line stuff. <Maybe he spent all his money on the equipment…after all, that’s more important than how the place looks,> Micky thought.
Suddenly a short, rotund-looking man wearing a brown robe and sandals scuttled into the room, solicitously racing to Micky’s side.
“My dear boy, you’ve come to see me just in time!” he exclaimed.
<THIS is Shah-Ku?> Micky incredulously thought. “I have?”
“Yes…my goodness, you’re a complete physical wreck!”
Micky’s pride was wounded by the man’s remark. “Hey, I might not be in the best shape, but I’m no weakling.”
Shah-Ku drew himself up to his full height and eyed Micky, raising a dubious eyebrow. “Must I resort to calling you skinny to make my point clear?”
Micky frowned, glaring at the little man. “Don’t say that,” he said in a low voice.
“You’re here to sign up for my bodybuilding program, are you not?”
“Yeah,” Micky admitted. “I saw your ad in Fast Cars magazine.”
“May I take it that there is a certain young lady you’d like to impress?”
Micky was shocked. Was Shah-Ku able to read minds as well? “How’d you guess?” he asked.
“My dear boy, female trouble is the reason why 90 percent of my clientele come to me. No need to be bashful about it.”
Micky shrugged. “It’s just that I really dig this chick, but she’s into guys with a lot of muscles…and well….I don’t have that many.” His cheeks turned red, and he stared down at the floor.
“Well, then, you’ve come to the right place.” Shah-Ku laid a comforting hand on Micky’s shoulder. “First of all, I need to run you through a series of tests to find out exactly how weak you are. We’ll start with the rope test.” He gestured to a rope hanging down from the ceiling near them.
Confused, Micky stood in front of the rope, closing first one eye, then the other.
“No, no, you need to climb it,” Shah-Ku corrected, his voice sharp with annoyance, folding his arms across his chest.
“No problem,” Micky said with a confident grin. As a child he’d spent hours climbing on rope ladders and swinging on the monkey bars; he was sure he could handle this. “I’m a little stronger than you think I am.”
With that he took a firm grip on the rope, jumping to gain momentum, but before he could pull himself up, he slid back down to the bottom. Determined, he gripped the rope again and attempted to climb his way to the top, and again he slid back down to the bottom.
Shah-Ku merely shook his head, making a “tsk” sound as he watched.
“It’s this rope!” Micky exclaimed, holding out his slippery palms for Shah-Ku to see. “It’s greased!”
“You see how the mind can make adjustments for things we don’t want to admit to,” Shah-Ku soberly said. “Next are the pulleys.”
Micky wiped his hands off on his trousers as he followed Shah-Ku over to the wall where the pulleys were located. He stood in place, grasping their handles. “Watch this,” he said. “I’ll show you who’s weak.”
He began to slowly walk, pulling the handles as he went and thus raising the attached weights. It was easy going at first, but the farther he moved away from the wall the heavier the weights suddenly became, and soon he felt as if he were trying to pull a semi truck behind him. If he had looked back over his shoulder, he would have seen Shah-Ku pushing back down on the weights, preventing him from moving any further.
Without any warning, the pulleys snapped, throwing Micky back against the wall with an ‘oof,’ his hands becoming entangled in the handles.
Sighing, Shah-Ku freed him. “Finally, the weights.”
Micky stared down at the barbell on the floor in front of him. There had to be nearly a hundred pounds worth of weights attached to it; how did Shah-Ku expect him to lift that?
“Of course, if you’re too weakened by the pulley exercise to try the weights, we’ll skip them,” Shah-Ku said.
This roused Micky’s temper again, and he decided that he had to at least give it a shot. “No, I can do it,” Micky said. “Watch this.”
He crouched down and tugged at the barbell with no success, then lay down on the floor and tried to push it upwards. When that didn’t work, he pulled at one end of the barbell, and with much struggle was able to lift it on end. “See? I got it!” he cried triumphantly, pushing it towards one of the parallel bars nearby. Somehow, with a combination of pushing and pulling, he managed to get it up to
waist-level.
While Shah-Ku amusedly watched, Micky leaned back against the parallel bar and rolled the barbell from waist-level to his shoulder, and finally against his neck. “It’s on…it’s on my neck, I think I’m stuck,” he gasped, and Shah-Ku hurried over to take the barbell from Micky, who remained against the parallel bar momentarily, trying to catch his breath and rubbing at his sore neck.
“You’d better sign up for my complete health plan,” Shah-Ku said. “That includes books, membership, and twice a year we throw in a field trip to Turkish bath.”
“How much is all that?” Micky cautiously asked.
“For you, because you’re so weak, I’m going to make a special deal.” Shah-Ku paused, gauging Micky. “A hundred and fifty bucks.”
Micky stared at the man. “Where am I gonna get a hundred and fifty bucks, man? I’m an unemployed drummer.”
Shah-Ku was unfazed. “Money is no object.”
Micky raised an eyebrow in interest. <Maybe he’s gonna give me some kind of scholarship or something…> His hopes were dashed when Shah-Ku spoke again.
“Hock your drums, bring back the money, and we can sign the contract.”
~*~
After Micky left, Shah-Ku turned towards the doorway leading to the locker room and shower area. “You can come out now.”
Bulk emerged from the room, his squinty eyes looking around suspiciously. “That was close, Master Shah-Ku.”
“Don’t worry, my muscled friend. Mr. Dolenz will know nothing of our alliance.” Shah-Ku nodded with absolute confidence. “You and the beautiful Brenda shall lure him into my trap, and by then, even if he discovers our connection, it will be too late. His drums will be gone, his band will split up, and my revenge shall be complete.”
“I don’t think I get why you want revenge, Master,” Bulk said.
“Of course not, Bulk.” Shah-Ku chuckled. “I was working at the Club Cassandra, showing off my feats of strength and making quite a nice living too, until the owners decided that they wanted to follow the trend and hire rock bands instead of real performers. I lost my job to those Monkees, and now I shall seek my revenge!”
Bulk nodded, but the expression on his face showed that he still didn’t quite understand.
“It’s all right, Bulk, you don’t need to understand. As long as you and Brenda follow my plans to the letter, everything will be fine.” Shah-Ku laughed, and Bulk, confused, joined in.
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