The crowd began to boo.

Here was where FLOW really tested the boundaries. If Esperanza’s and Big Cyndi’s ages might qualify them as “MILFs,” their evil opponents—“Ladies and gentlemen, give it up for the Axis of Evil, Commie Connie and Iron Curtain Irene!”—would fit more into the “GILF” category.

For those who might be a little slow in the area of acronyms, the G would stand for “grandmother.”

Still, Commie Connie proudly (or defiantly) wore the same supertight, revealing red costume with Chinese stars and pictures of Mao that had made her famous, while Irene sported a two-piece that formed an old Soviet sickle across her cleavage.

Mickey started playing with his phone.

“What are you doing?” Myron asked.

“I’m looking something up.”

“What?”

“Hold on.” Then: “According to this, Commie Connie is seventy-four years old.”

Myron smiled. “Looks great, doesn’t she?”

“Uh, yeah, I guess.”

Mickey didn’t get it. Then again, he was sixteen. Myron had been ten when he watched Connie, so maybe he was still seeing her through his childhood goggles the same way we hear our favorite bands through childhood earphones. Whatever. As they sat back and watched the match unfold, Myron downed popcorn.

“So Aunt Esperanza is supposed to be Native American?” Mickey asked.

“Yes.”

“But she’s Hispanic, right?”

“Yes.”

“And Big Cyndi is?”

“Anyone’s guess.”

“But she’s not Native American.”

“No, she’s not.” Myron glanced at him. “There isn’t much about pro wrestling that’s politically correct.”

“More like downright insensitive.”

“Yeah, I guess. It’s a role. We can be outraged about it tomorrow.”

Mickey grabbed some of the popcorn. “I told a couple of my teammates I knew Little Pocahontas.”

“I bet they were impressed.”

“Oh yeah. One says his dad still has her poster in his weight room.”

“And that’s probably politically incorrect too.”

In the ring, Big Cyndi wore enough makeup to put a Kiss concert out of business. Then again, she wore the same in real life too. Big Cyndi made a quick move near the turnbuckle, grabbed Commie Connie in a headlock, and then, with her free hand, she blew Myron a kiss.

“I love you, Mr. Bolitar,” she shouted.

Mickey loved that. So did the crowd. So, well, did Myron.

Again, the “senior tour” for the “cougar division” title was all about memories, which was tantamount to wanting your favorite band to play its old hits. So that was what the four wrestlers gave the crowd.

Little Pocahontas had always been a fan favorite. She would always be winning on skill, all lithe and tiny and beautiful, dancing around the ring, darting to and fro, earning high marks and cheers from the crowd, when suddenly her evil opponents would cheat to turn the tide. This cheating usually took the form of either jamming sand in Little Pocahontas’s eyes (Esperanza was great at acting out “burning eyes”) or using the dreaded “foreign object” to render her helpless.

Tonight Commie Connie and Iron Curtain Irene did both.

With Big Chief Mama being distracted by the crooked referee, who had been seduced by Commie Connie’s promise of sexual favors, Iron Curtain Irene used the sand in the eye while Commie Connie jabbed Esperanza in the kidney with the foreign object. Little Pocahontas was in trouble! The two evil wrestlers now teamed up on Little Pocahontas—something else that was illegal!—pounding her mercilessly, the crowd begging someone to help the poor beauty, when finally Big Chief Mama saw what was happening, pushed the referee out of the ring, and rescued the hot heroine, and together Little Pocahontas and Big Chief Mama faced down the Axis of Evil.