Gasping for Airtime - Jay Mohr [32]
Downey saw me first, and before Chris could see me, he said, “I bet if Jay Mohr walked in here right now he could beat you in a rematch.” Chris cursed him and Downey taunted: “No, Chris, I swear to God, you must have gotten lucky. Jay was, like, a state champion wrestler!” Some of the writers had seen me by now and started chiming in. They would murmur, “Yeah, I would have to put my money on Jay,” or “You got lucky, Chris.” I thought, Fuck it, and walked into the room.
Downey’s eyes got wide. “Well,” he said, “I’ll be a son of a gun! Here’s Jay now.” Farley gave me a dismissive wave with his hand and the challenge was on. “Let’s go again, bitch! You got lucky!” I yelled.
Chris reached out and grabbed my arm. I rushed toward him, and because he was in the act of standing up as he grabbed me, I caught him off balance. He was now standing up to the side of the couch and starting to fall down before I made contact. When he grabbed my arm, he had pulled me downward. Now that he was on his way to the ground I was in a perfect position to do something. I wrapped my left arm around his left leg behind the knee, keeping my right arm free so I could wait and see how he landed before I decided how to use it.
When Chris hit the carpet, he sort of curled up a little and rolled on his side. His chin was a few inches from his chest, so I took my right arm, shot it around his neck, and grabbed my other hand. As soon as I hit the ground, I stuck my right knee in his ribs, forming the perfect cradle. I placed my forehead against his temple and pushed into it as hard as I could. I was trying to crush his skull.
I kept driving my knee into his ribs and my forehead into his temple. I clasped my hands until they went numb. I knew that if Chris escaped, he would kill me. It didn’t matter what happened next. I won. The move may have happened by accident, but it looked perfect and everyone had seen it. They also saw Chris’s face turn redder more from embarrassment than the knee in the ribs. Neither one of us said anything to signify the end of the rematch, but we both stopped at the same time.
I scurried to my feet and darted out of the room toward the elevators, leaving my coat and belongings behind. I thought I should get out of there as fast as humanly possible. As I left the writers’ room, I could hear all the guys riding Chris. Just as I pushed the down button, I heard a rumbling in the hallway. People were laughing and cheering.
I looked up and saw Alec Baldwin, a huge grin on his face, walking with Chris and the rest of the writers. In the back of the approaching mob was Kim Basinger. Chris was walking like a mummy. His eyes were rolled back in his head and his arms were stretched out in front of him. The night elevators were in an alcove to the side of the hallway. I had nowhere to go.
Chris grabbed me behind the head and we tied up. I reminded myself not to shoot in on his legs. Chris threw his arms around me, pushing me left and right. I kept my center of gravity low and managed to stay on my feet. The more Chris threw me from side to side, the more I could feel how strong he was. I figured that win, lose, or draw, I should probably get it over with.
I took the palm of my right hand and pushed in against the outside of his left elbow. As Chris resisted, I slid my hand under his left elbow and jammed it upward. Chris’s left arm swung up in the air and I ducked my head through his armpit and back around behind him. My ass and the rest of my body squirted through the same space at the same time as my head. I was now standing behind him with my hands clasped around his belly, a wrestling move known as a duck-under. The next step of the move was to lift your opponent up and dump him on the mat. Because I couldn’t lift Chris, I planned to trip him.
I squeezed him tighter to me, hoping that he thought I was going to try and lift him.