“My method is hard soft.” he says.
“Which one?” I say.
“What do you mean?” he says.
“Is it hard or soft?”
“It's both.”
“Isn't hard and soft together just...normal?” I say.
“It goes hard, then soft. Hard soft.” he says. I thank him with a little bow. We both bow towards the stage then at each other, banging our foreheads. He clutches at his and howls.
“Don't bow at the same time. After one other.” he says. I bow towards him and when I lift my head manage to catch him on the chin. An official runs up to us.
“Are you boys ready for the weight lifting?” he says.
“Yes we are.” says Gerrard. I follow the twenty stone man to the back of the stage.
As Gerrard gets ready I peek through the curtain at the current champion getting ready to lift a block of ice.
“He must be cold.”
“Nevermind that, help me into this thing.” he says, gesturing toward a reindeer costume. He puts on the bottom half first, I help him put the giant cartoon reindeer head on.
“What about the top?” he says. I fetch the top part of the costume and try to pull it over the fake head.
“No, I need to take the head off first.” he says. I ignore him, climb onto a chair and begin to yank at the top of the costume. The chair slips from under me and I am left grabbing onto Gerrard, we stumble backwards and forwards, knocking over a table filled with sports drinks and then fall over.
“You idiot!” he says, voice muffled inside a fake reindeer head inside a fake reindeer torso.
“I'm sorry, I thought it went over your head.” I say. He begins to pull at it.
“It's stuck...help me get it off.” he says. I put a foot on each of his shoulders and begin to pull.
“Stop it...you're...hurting my neck.” he says. I shake my head and look around the backstage. There's a jar of vaseline. I begin to smear it onto the brown fur and around his neck, pushing big clumps of the yellow substance into him. I try again and this time it comes away easily, making me stumble backwards into the official. I wipe my hands on his jacket.
“Gerrard Jones?” he says at the body builder.
“Yes.” he says, face and hair smeared in vaseline. He goes out onto the stage, waves at the crowd then picks up the block of ice. Almost immediately it slips out of his grip and lands on his toe. He howls again, grabs at his toe and begins to start hopping around the stage until falling backwards through a curtain, managing to fall headfirst into the lubricated reindeer torso he had just escaped from. When he gets up he takes a few blind steps forward before stepping on a bottle of lucozade, making him slip out through the backstage and onto the ice rink. He begins to shout and howl as he slides across the rink, trying to pull the reindeer costume off his head. He finally manages to, then screams as he sees the wall ahead of him in which he bangs into at quite a pace. I run after him with some paper towels.
“Did you see that?” I say.
“I saw enough of it. Pass me a towel.” he says.
"I think you lost." I say, patting him on the back.
