Another weekend on the island, and Mr. Roarke and Tattoo were greeting the guests. One of the ones to leave the plane was a blond guy in his early 20's.
"And who iz zis man?" asked Tattoo.
"He is Phillip Ranford, from Dubuque Iowa. His fantasy is to mud wrestle."
"Mud vrestle?"
"With a member of the opposite sex."
"Vell, vhy doezn't he do it in Dubuque?"
"Because there are no clubs that do that sort of thing there. Plus, he says he suggested it to his girlfriend—and now, he no longer has a girlfriend!"
"Zhat's too bad!"
"I agree!"
He stood up from his chair and extended his margarita.
"Welcome to Fantasy Island!"
That evening, there was a special dinner/get-together at the Fantasy Club, on the island. In one corner of it, there was a special wrestling pit installed. Near to it was a microphone. Phillip sat at a table with Mr. Roarke and Tattoo. He was drinking a Margarita, one of many he had that evening.
At 8:00pm, a man went up to the mic.
"Good evening, ladies and gentlemen and welcome to the Fantasy Club! Now, I would like to draw your attention to this wrestling pit, here." He pointed to it. "As you can see, it's empty, now. But tomorrow night, at this time, it'll be filled with mud! And our special guest will be in it! Folks, let's meet Phillip Ranford!"
The guests cheered. Phillip stood up and bowed.
"Now, I'll bet you're dying to meet your opponent, Phil."
"Bring her on!"
The guests cheered.
"That's the spirit! Here she is!"
A woman came out—and what a woman! She stood 6'5" in her boots. She weighed over 200 pounds, but very well built. She had long black hair. She wore a one-piece bathing suit with short pants.
"My name is Betty the Bomber," she said, "and I intend to turn you into little blobs of mud!"
Phil drank down his margarita, and also drank Tattoo's!
The next day, after breakfast, he stormed into Mr. Roarke's office.
"I want to talk with you, Roarke!" he demanded.
"Ah, Mr. Ranford! Are you ready for your match tonight?"
"That's what I want to talk with you about. I want another opponent to wrestle!"
"And what's wrong with Betty the Bomber?"
"She's not a woman, she's a human gorilla!"
"Oh, come now, she's not that bad!"
"Well, she's not the girl I'd hope to wrestle against!"
"And who is the girl you want to wrestle against?"
"I don't know. One of the island girls, perhaps. Or maybe a fashion model."
"Well, you should have specified that in your fantasy."
"Oh, so that's how it is? Well, I demand a refund!"
"I'm afraid that's not possible, Mr. Ranford."
"It's not?"
"I'm afraid not." Rummaging on his desk, he picked up a document. "Article 6, paragraph 1: "'Once a customer's fantasy begins, there can be no refund.' You see?"
He showed it to Phil.
"Oh, and you'd better not try to sue me. My lawyer is a Mr. Mason. Perhaps you've heard of him?"
Phillip stood there for a few seconds.
"Thanks for ruining my fantasy!" he finally said, and he stormed out.
About a half hour later, there was a knock on Phillip's cabana door. Opening it, he saw Betty the Bomber. She was dressed in jeans, short-sleeved shirt, and sandals.
"I want to talk with you!" she said.
"Er, sure! Come on in."
She walked in. "I understand you don't want to wrestle with me."
"Well…that is…I…"
"Come on, out with it!"
"I had hoped for a different sort of girl," he conceded.
"And what's wrong with me? Think I'm ugly?"
"Oh, no! You're very pretty, actually."
This calmed her down, a bit. "Well then, what's the problem?"
"It's just that… you're much bigger than me."
"So?"
"So, you'll pin me down in the mud quickly, and that'll be the end of my fantasy."
She thought about this for a bit. "I see."
"Could you perhaps…let me win?"
"No! I've made it a point never to do that."
"Oh."
"But I can teach you how to wrestle."
"Teach me?"
"Sure. It's largely about technique. I've been beaten before by girls smaller than me—guys, too."
"Yes, why not! Can we do it right now?"
"Sure! Let's make some room, here."
"Ok."
They moved some of the furniture in the living room around.
"Now, take your shoes off; I prefer to wrestle barefooted."
They both took their shoes off and began.
She started with the basics—stances, offensive and defensive moves, and so forth. Then they did a few practice matches, and he was able to pin her down, a couple times. An hour passed quickly.
"One final thing," she said. "Mud will make things slipperier. That will make it harder for us to grasp each other."
"Gotcha! Thanks, Betty."
"You're welcome."
"I'm really sorry for my earlier behavior!"
"It's ok, baby!"
They hugged.
"I can't wait to wrestle you in the mud, tonight!"
She smiled. "Tonight at 8:00."
She put her sandals back on and left.
Another party was held at the Fantasy Club, that evening—and once again, Phillip Ranford was the guest. More guests were there than the night before. This time, the pit was filled with mud collected from another part of the island.
At 8:00pm, the same announcer walked to the microphone.
"Good evening, ladies and gentlemen. Last night, we promised you mud wrestling, and here it is!" There were cheers. "Now, let's present the champion. He stands 5'10" and weighs 125 pounds—Phillip Ranford!"
The audience cheered, as he came out. He wore a bathing suit and a silk robe and was barefooted.
"And now, the challenger. She stands 6'4" and weighs 210 pounds—Betty the Bomber!"
More cheers. She wore the same bathing suit she wore the night before. She also had on a silk robe and was barefooted.
"Now, this match will consist of the best out of three pins. So, without further ado, let's get started!"
They walked over to the pit and took their robes off. Then they knelt in the mud and faced each other.
"Do you remember what to do?" she said.
He nodded. "Thanks again."
A bell rang. "Let's wrestle!"
They grabbed each other. She pulled him down, but he was able to get out of it. They grappled and pulled at each other. Within a minute both were covered in mud. Finally, Betty was able to hold Phil down. The referee counted to three.
"The first pin goes to Betty!"
The crowd cheered. Phil and Betty got up and went to their corners to rest for a minute.
The bell rang, and they got back in the mud.
This time, Phil was able to pull Betty down, but she quickly got out of it. They grappled, and he was finally able to pull her down again. The referee did the three-count.
"The second pin goes to Phillip!"
Again, they rested for a minute. Then the bell rang, and they wrestled again.
The third pin was the longest. They grappled and held each other. But after close to five minutes, Betty was able to pin Phil down and hold him for three seconds.
"And the winner is Betty the Bomber!"
The crowd cheered wildly. Betty and Phil stood up. She threw her hands up in triumph. Suddenly, he put his arms around him, and they hugged and kissed. Then they laid down in the mud and rolled around in it!
"Now, that's a great ending to tonight's match!"
It was now Sunday morning, and the guests were on their way home.
Phillip and Betty were together. They walked up to Mr. Roarke and Tattoo.
"That was a great match you had."
"Listen, Mr. Roarke, I'm really sorry for my behavior, yesterday."
"Think nothing of it, Phil; that's all forgotten!"
"And I've got some news for you: Betty and I are getting married!"
"Oh, that's wonderful!"
He shook Phil's hand and kissed Betty on the cheek.
"We're on our way to Las Vegas to get married and have a honeymoon. Then we're going to Dubuque to live together."
"I'm so glad to hear this!"
"We'll be building a mud pit in our backyard!" said Betty.
"May you two have many great matches together!"
"Oh, we will!" said Phil.
They went on the plane together.