Two of the VCRs are busted now, but Aldous still has one that works. He uses it to tape the wrestling and watch it on fast-forward later on. He doesn’t need to hear the chatter or see the moves in real time; it’s all mythology anyway. He knows how it’s going to end.
He took Athena once down to the arena to see the wrestling live. She was, what? Eight? Nine? Not too sure what to make of the men in their leotards bouncing around the ring. Looking back and forth between their muscles and her daddy’s big belly, sizing him up.
He exercises that belly every night with moves of his own, clenching and releasing it to keep it in shape. So many times he’s told Athena that the belly's all muscle he believes it himself. So many times she’s poked the belly with her finger and watched it bounce back.
He does his bicep curls with bean-filled beer bottles while the spandex gods speed through their routines. The VCR makes a whirring sound. The pictures speed even faster, then stop. Onscreen the big guy is holding the little guy up over his head, looking straight into the camera.
“See, Al?” he seems to be saying. “This is how you do it. Ya gotta grab life by the balls and slam it down to the mat. No more excuses.”
Athena sitting quietly eating her popcorn. Athena jumping up to cheer as grown men bash each other over the head with metal chairs. Athena crowning her daddy the big guy in her own mythology.
The VCR whirs again and the little guy flies over the ropes. Aldous reaches for the remote, hand twitching. He is the big guy. He is.
Linda M. Bayley is a writer living on the Canadian Shield. Her work has recently appeared in BULL, Does It Have Pockets, Frazzled Lit, Trash Cat Lit, Urban Pigs Press, and Fictive Dream; and was shortlisted for the 2026 Bath Novella-in-Flash Award. Find her on Twitter and Bluesky @lmbayley.
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