The Next Pop Culture Phenom

Salutations and greetings, all you dudes and dudettes out in PRIMEland. When you last saw our Wonderful Wizards of Waves, Bowie Abrams and Bradlee Nelson, they were giving the most totally tubular sensitivity training to the resident Grumpy Gusses and Gerties of PRIME, the Red Army. It’s still unknown whether or not Ivan Stanislav ever received his graduation certificate and pool noodle, but in the time since ReVival The Nice Number concluded, the Broseidons of the Brocean have answered the siren’s call for competition once again.

This time, it’ll be on the superest supershow stage against Elise Ares and The D!

(Also, Klein will be there.)

The Bros may not know much about their opponents, other than Elise is a smokin’ hottie who breaks Bing’s AI generator, and The D looks like a Temu version of the Monopoly Man that Joe Fontaine got as a surprise in his boxes of Temu fabbies, but they do know something about Pop Culture.

They also know that their desire to help others whose vibes are totally harshed shouldn’t end with the Red Army.

That’s why, on this otherwise lazy Saturday, the HIGH Priests of the Pacific have crept down from their loft above Lindsay Troy’s and Wade Elliott’s garage and quietly entered the main house through the front door.

After all, what better way to help the notorious layabout, coattail-riding, unemployed Bad Dog - who is also, technically, their landlord, and soon-to-be their favorite BROncle? - get a job than to help make him the next Pop Culture Phenom!

CREEEEEAAAAAKKKKKKKKK!

“Bro, you gotta be quieter, we need to keep the element of surprise…” Bowie whispers to Bradlee while giving him a slight shove in the chest. Bradlee, who had been trying to shut the door without making any noise, stumbles backwards and almost trips over the air. He reaches for a wall that’s definitely not there with the power of waving his arms like he’s doing the backstroke at the Olympics. Bowie’s eyes are wide as saucers as they glance around the giant home of the Queen.

“Whoaaaaa…..”

She’s got that fuck you money, you know. Not only is she able to buy companies like she’s Wrestling’s Galactus, her and Wade’s house has cathedral ceilings, leather furniture, and floor-to-ceiling windows that spill an abundance of sunshine onto brightly-polished hardwood floors. Tastefully curated artwork and sculptures adorn the neutral-colored walls and rest on solid wood tables. The lingering scent of amber and sandalwood wafts through the house thanks to essential oil and reed diffusers.

”Bro, like, this house is far out,” Bradlee says while staring at an intricate glass vase. “We could totally use this as a bong, dude.”

“Dude, not now,” Bowie replies. He grips Bradlee by the shoulders and gives him a little shake. “The only way we’re gonna make sure that Wadebro isn’t freeloadin’ is if we focus!”

Our Brodacious Bros start to walk down one of the endless hallways covered in pictures of Kaz and Ami. They cup their hands to their ears and listen for any sound of activity. They totally watched like three entire nature documentaries to prepare for this, so they definitely have a great grasp on just how this should go down. The sound of a toilet flushing spooks our surfer sneaks and the boys take off running back down one of the hallways and hide behind a display case full of World Titles, cause the Queen rolls like that, and an end table with a cute dog thing on top, cause the Queen also rolls like that.

Their prey comes into view and Bradlee pins himself to the wall, while Bowie sticks his right eye just far enough around the glass display case to catch a peek. He realizes it’s made of glass and slowly creeps back into hiding. He begins trying to take measured breaths but still has a near panic attack that Wade could easily see through all of this neat glass that’s totally not letting him actually hide. Because glass is see-through, and really bad for hide and seek. Also really bad for sneaking up on bad dogs like Wade Elliott.

Luckily, the Bad Dog leaves his yard with his eyes glued to his phone and walks back down the hallway. As Wade fades from view, our lovable bodacious boys slip off down the hallway. A couple of real 007’s. They somersault roll past a doorway and Bradlee sticks his arm out stopping Bowie mid-roll. He’s trying really hard not to say “Do a barrel roll” like in Starfox, and it’s really difficult. But Bradlee does a bunch of fast hand motions. He grabs his ear twice, slides his hand down his arm and scratches his nose. Bowie’s pretty sure that was the sign to steal second base from their high school team, but luckily for the Bros his confused face quickly turns super duper serious when the stolen base move ends with the universal “he’s in there” almost self eye poke and two finger point.

Bowie nods, drops to the floor and slides his face up to the corner of the room. Bowie motions for Bradlee to join him, and the two can finally observe Wade in his natural habitat. He’s sitting with his feet up on the couch, his toes hanging over the edge and chuckling. Bradlee starts watching what Wade’s watching; Rue McLanahan is across the screen from Bea Arthur and Wade’s feet are kicking and squirming away.

“Br… br… bro…” Bradlee finally manages to stutter out.

“We have the Bad Dog in his natural habitat, Dude. We’ve found him in his yard, and he’s at peace. Now, now we have to make him the next ‘Pop Culture Phenom.’” Bowie whispers semi-quietly to the Bodacious One.

“Dude, he’s just like… watching TV and stuff…” Bradlee semi-whispers back while Wade totally just lays there, watching television. Having the time of his life.

“Bro… We gotta get closer.” Bowie slinks himself to the floor and the two begin to commando crawl across the wood floor.

“HAHAHA!” Wade’s little toesies are wiggling and his feetsies are just kicking away.

The Bros freeze in their tracks, perfectly still; like two kids sneaking out of the house that just heard their parents use the bathroom. Absolutely motionless. Wade mutters something and the boys resume breathing and blinking. Thankfully they didn’t forget. Bradlee makes it up to directly behind the leather couch while Bowie trails a few body lengths behind.

“Man, that coffee’s runnin’ right through me,” Wade remarks and pulls out his phone screen and gets up off of the couch. He rounds the corner, and is absolutely fucking astonished to see Bowie Abrams sprawled across his beautiful hardwood living room floor, clutching an iPhone in one hand.

“What the hel…” Wade normally wouldn’t allow himself to be interrupted, but the shock of Bradlee Nelson jumping out from a few feet away sends Wade borderline speechless. You know, because he’s so totally happy to see them and stuff.

“Bro, we gotta talk…” Bradlee Nelson is a brave soul. Not really, but for some reason he’s really possessed with some serious fortitude in this one incredibly stupid moment where he jumps out from behind Wade. He nods to Bowie, who takes the opportunity and springs to his feet.

“Golden Girls, like, dude, we’ve been up for like an entire two hours. We had Lucky Charms for breakfast, smoked a fatty,” he gives Wade the assuring pushback motion with his hands, “and we even made sure we did it outside of the apartment.”

“Yeah, so you can’t even, like, yell at us for that and stuff,” Bradlee beams, super pleased with himself and Bowie.

Wade gives a deep sigh, his murderous rage only slightly lessened.

“And then we had a great idea, Brode. We’re gonna help our big BROncle get a job!” Bowie Abrams springs forward, iPhone in hand. A weird app scrolling in Wade’s eyes.

“Yeah, see, we’ve been doing some calculations, and like, you definitely should be doing something with your time dude…” Bowie comes whipping an iPhone with some charts into his face.

“Like, we were gonna have a study done and stuff, you know, like, hire some researchers and what not. But, we realized, we’re way happier with a job! So you should get a job!” Wade Elliott is so astonished by the stupid in front of him that he can’t move a muscle. It’s paralyzing levels of stupidity, and Wade has succumbed to the illness as Bowie continues.

“And we already did all the work for you dude… We said, you know what would be great? If we could take care of our big BROncle. So we went ahead and got everything set up for your first new job!” The suddenly employed Wade Elliott is just blinking, his brain beginning to shut down. He might die here, from the sheer fucking stupid around him.

“Bro… check this out… we were thinking and like. You could totally have hit the podcast circuit like every other old geriatric semi-famous white dude…” Wade’s lip begins to twitch at the corner but Bradlee dances his way into absolute peril anyway. “But like, that’s totally not you. You’re our BROncle! You’re way cooler than that. And we’re taking on some Pop Culture Phenoms at some big mean show with a bunch of blood or something, and we decided the best idea ever was to get our own Pop Culture Phenom. So we got you a Tik-Tok account called Big BROncle and it’s gonna be so awesome…”

Wade’s neck and face begin to twitch as he slowly tilts his head.

“Get the fuck out of my house!”

The BROs do… very quickly…

On their scamper down the hallway Bradlee shoves Bowie with a grin going across his face from ear to ear…

“He didn’t say no, Bro!”

Cue the sweet jumping high five and Wade Elliott finally unstupidized begins shouting down the hallway. They go back to running, but they are both laughing and smiling.

—----------------------------------------

“Bowie… I think he’s downstairs…” Bradlee whispers as the video slowly comes into focus. The large rocket ship shaped bong sits in the middle of the living room, and the footage shakes like it’s the Blair Witch Project, but Bradlee just has shaky hands and it’s not his fault.

“Yeah dude… it’s time for the first video!” The two shakily walk out their front door and run down the steps. They begin sneaking along the side of the garage, at least that’s what you assume they're doing. We’re just looking at a bunch of pine trees that block off the other rich peoples from seeing the Queen’s home.

“This is the first time Big BROncle has left the domicile today dudes and dudettes of the Tok. We’ve been monitoring all day, and finally, we’ve found the BROncle doing BROncle things…” Bradlee whispers into the iPhone. Bowie readies a selfie stick, and the phone passes between the two of them, and then onto the end of the stick.

The screen whips from a clear sky, to a sun, to a cloud, and finally way too close to Bradlee’s face, but he backs away a few steps and gives the phone a thumbs up. Bowie nods the selfie stick and whips it back around to the edge of the garage. He gets low to the ground and sticks the selfie stick around the corner. The phone takes a solid five seconds to adjust to the garage, but finally, we can see half of Wade Elliott on the screen. He has the fanciest commercial grade zero-turn mower up on jack stands. He’s seated on a stool and presumably twisting a ratchet as he works on part of the mower.

“Get a job… hmmmph…” Wade growls under his breath as he works away on the mower.

“Look at the BROncle, he wrenches like he’s worked at a Valvoline garage for ten years…” Wade’s eyes begin to rise, but Bradlee continues…

“He’s gotta be the best BROncle of all time. Some would even say… clearly a phenom at being a BROncle…” Wade’s eyes make direct contact with the phone screen. He squints his eyes, clearly not wearing his glasses like his doctor tells him too, but he can make out that bright yellow phone from across the room.

“I can fucking hear you…” Wade makes absolute eye contact with the camera and a ratchet comes flying at the screen. We go back to the sky, and then the pine trees and then a lot of hurried running. The BROs scramble back up the steps as Wade starts rounding the edge of the garage.

“Gimme that damn phone!” the Bad Dog shouts. The BROs sprint into the apartment, shut the door, lock it, and deadbolt it. We can see the giant bong in the middle of the living room again, the view clearly from the two of them pressing their backs to the front door.

“Gimme the phone…” The pounding on the door sends the boys springing off of it, but they hurry up and press their backs to it again as Wade sends another cop knock across the door.

“Thanks for coming to BROncle-Tok! We’ll see you next time!” Bradlee shouts and the phone hits the floor, the angle is facing the door where the BROs are pressing against it with all their might.

“There will NOT be a next time!” Wade snarls and stops trying to twist the knob of the clearly locked door.

Bradlee looks at Wade, standing outside through the window. “We’re just doing what’s best for you BROncle!”

The door rumbles again and the BROs rush back to their totally awesome positions while the scene fades with the door rumbling again.