Sunday, October 7, 2012
Friday, August 17, 2012
Sunday, January 15, 2012
Thursday, August 4, 2011
Wednesday, February 9, 2011
The Wrestling Game - Part 1
The champion entered the ring, his trainer whispering last-minute instructions. I was in the opposite corner, awaiting the championship match that would decide my place. Second best, or first claim to fame. My coach was Henry Loxard, a good man, and one of the best trainers in this profession. The greatest one, of course, was with Nick “Viper” Williams, Fangs of Steel, the current champion. Me, I was Lionel Pierce, aka The Spartan Lion. Yeah, fans will do anything to make their favorite guy sound even tougher, better, stronger. Too bad that didn’t happen to me. I was already that rough and more. The starting bell rang.
“In this corner, weighing in at 159 pounds, The Spaaartan Lion! He once endured 17 bouts in a row with five other wrestlers and finished at the top of the heap! That’s right, he’s that tough. Give it up for The Spartan Lion, folks!” As soon as the applause died down, the announcer continued, “And in that corner, weighing in at 162 pounds, Faaaangs of Steel! This strong guy’s deadly finisher, Grater Fang, has made dozens suffer from major head injuries. As a result, he’s champion! That’s correct, folks, Viper’s teeth is his signature weapon. Now let me hear some noise!” The crowd was pumped up, I was ready to go, and Viper just grinned a killer’s smile at me.
“Now, don’t let him psyche you out. You are good, and everybody here knows it. Watch out for his teeth and left fist. Get out there, and make me proud!” Wiping my shiny forehead with a towel, Henry stuffed the plastic teeth brace into my moist mouth, and shoved me into the center of the bright lights. The bell rang again.
“Now, I want to see clean fighting, you understand? Now, go!” The referee jogged away, leaving us two on the red mat.
We circled slowly, like two sharks around a helpless dolphin- in this case, the championship belt. As I threw out a right hook, Viper dodged, attempting a fancy European uppercut that glanced off my jaw. Blocking the next blow, I slapped his ear, then elbow-dropped his abs into Painville. Somebody in the front row passed me up a metal folding chair, the kind that makes people bleed if you strike them nice and hard with it. You know, that kind of chair.
Despite dealing the devastating blow to my opponent’s chest, he somehow summoned up the strength to stand up and fight, giving me the old one-two, then spun off another left uppercut, this time to my nose. Viper knew that I was slightly woozy, and pressed that position into his signature move.
“Oh, what’s this? Viper looks like he’s going to use his finisher, Grater Fang, on the Lion! The Spartan Lion is being pinned down!” Excitedly, the announcers shouted into their mikes, giving a rapid-fire commentary on the championship, reporting hit by hit, strike by strike.
Holding me down with a roll-up pin, Viper reared his ugly head (literally) and slammed his chin down to where my head was supposed to be. Except it wasn’t there, as I had dodged and rolled away and was now mounting old “Steel Fangs” on my back. I fell. Backwards, I mean, crushing Viper with my one of my trademarks, a modified Samoan Drop. Man, did I crush him. Following up with a light lariat, I pursued my advantage as Viper fell out of the ring. I tagged along, looking for a suitable table I could slam his face on as the referee slowly counted to ten.
Recovering quickly, Viper gripped me, trying to body slam me on the ring stepladders. Grappling with him, I forced his face down on the stepladder as I clambered back into the ring in the nick of time.
“Nine! Ten!” Viper is disqualified from the match! The Spartan Lion wins!” the referee called out. Still panting, I made my way back to my corner where awaiting me was the broad and beaming face of my trainer, a small Ziploc bag of ice, and a glorious dry towel monogrammed with my own initials. The formal award ceremony was later today. For now I rested, sitting down…only to stand up again to receive the coveted black and golden belt of champions.
In the other corner, Viper scowled deeply, his features a mask for the smile that lay hidden. “You may have won this time, Lionel,” he snarled, the whole crowd falling silent, “but remember this. Disqualification holds no honor for the victor. I have lost nothing! You forget wrestling is a gentlemanly sport! I knew and I played it like so. You have won nothing but shame!” With that loud outburst, Viper gestured to his crew and stalked out of the ring.
For a few minutes, the spectators were hushed, whispering among themselves as the shock wore off. I relaxed, knowing that all of what Viper had said was untrue. He was just sticking to the script, plus disqualification was something of a disgrace in the wrestling world, but only for the loser, as it was very rare for any professional wrestler to be caught off guard out of the ring during a match…especially championships.
“In this corner, weighing in at 159 pounds, The Spaaartan Lion! He once endured 17 bouts in a row with five other wrestlers and finished at the top of the heap! That’s right, he’s that tough. Give it up for The Spartan Lion, folks!” As soon as the applause died down, the announcer continued, “And in that corner, weighing in at 162 pounds, Faaaangs of Steel! This strong guy’s deadly finisher, Grater Fang, has made dozens suffer from major head injuries. As a result, he’s champion! That’s correct, folks, Viper’s teeth is his signature weapon. Now let me hear some noise!” The crowd was pumped up, I was ready to go, and Viper just grinned a killer’s smile at me.
“Now, don’t let him psyche you out. You are good, and everybody here knows it. Watch out for his teeth and left fist. Get out there, and make me proud!” Wiping my shiny forehead with a towel, Henry stuffed the plastic teeth brace into my moist mouth, and shoved me into the center of the bright lights. The bell rang again.
“Now, I want to see clean fighting, you understand? Now, go!” The referee jogged away, leaving us two on the red mat.
We circled slowly, like two sharks around a helpless dolphin- in this case, the championship belt. As I threw out a right hook, Viper dodged, attempting a fancy European uppercut that glanced off my jaw. Blocking the next blow, I slapped his ear, then elbow-dropped his abs into Painville. Somebody in the front row passed me up a metal folding chair, the kind that makes people bleed if you strike them nice and hard with it. You know, that kind of chair.
Despite dealing the devastating blow to my opponent’s chest, he somehow summoned up the strength to stand up and fight, giving me the old one-two, then spun off another left uppercut, this time to my nose. Viper knew that I was slightly woozy, and pressed that position into his signature move.
“Oh, what’s this? Viper looks like he’s going to use his finisher, Grater Fang, on the Lion! The Spartan Lion is being pinned down!” Excitedly, the announcers shouted into their mikes, giving a rapid-fire commentary on the championship, reporting hit by hit, strike by strike.
Holding me down with a roll-up pin, Viper reared his ugly head (literally) and slammed his chin down to where my head was supposed to be. Except it wasn’t there, as I had dodged and rolled away and was now mounting old “Steel Fangs” on my back. I fell. Backwards, I mean, crushing Viper with my one of my trademarks, a modified Samoan Drop. Man, did I crush him. Following up with a light lariat, I pursued my advantage as Viper fell out of the ring. I tagged along, looking for a suitable table I could slam his face on as the referee slowly counted to ten.
Recovering quickly, Viper gripped me, trying to body slam me on the ring stepladders. Grappling with him, I forced his face down on the stepladder as I clambered back into the ring in the nick of time.
“Nine! Ten!” Viper is disqualified from the match! The Spartan Lion wins!” the referee called out. Still panting, I made my way back to my corner where awaiting me was the broad and beaming face of my trainer, a small Ziploc bag of ice, and a glorious dry towel monogrammed with my own initials. The formal award ceremony was later today. For now I rested, sitting down…only to stand up again to receive the coveted black and golden belt of champions.
In the other corner, Viper scowled deeply, his features a mask for the smile that lay hidden. “You may have won this time, Lionel,” he snarled, the whole crowd falling silent, “but remember this. Disqualification holds no honor for the victor. I have lost nothing! You forget wrestling is a gentlemanly sport! I knew and I played it like so. You have won nothing but shame!” With that loud outburst, Viper gestured to his crew and stalked out of the ring.
For a few minutes, the spectators were hushed, whispering among themselves as the shock wore off. I relaxed, knowing that all of what Viper had said was untrue. He was just sticking to the script, plus disqualification was something of a disgrace in the wrestling world, but only for the loser, as it was very rare for any professional wrestler to be caught off guard out of the ring during a match…especially championships.
Tuesday, January 25, 2011
Excellent MMORPG Websites
http://www.human-age.com -Raise a Human! (Need lots of patience for this one)
http://www.kongregate.com/games/EverDreamStudio/dragons-call -Your basic "Kill dragons and monsters Game with lots of other players. (Has some good new features, too. Worth checking out.)
http://www.the-west.net/ Conquer the West! (A lot of friendly players in this game)
http://www.grepolis.com/ Fortify and build your town, filled with soldiers and a Greek god to watch over it! (Good short time wasting game)
http://www.thewrestlinggame.com/ Become a wrestler- Technique, Speed, Resistance, Strength, or Balanced? You decide! (Seriously, though, good game- moderate patience required)
http://www.kongregate.com/games/EverDreamStudio/dragons-call -Your basic "Kill dragons and monsters Game with lots of other players. (Has some good new features, too. Worth checking out.)
http://www.the-west.net/ Conquer the West! (A lot of friendly players in this game)
http://www.grepolis.com/ Fortify and build your town, filled with soldiers and a Greek god to watch over it! (Good short time wasting game)
http://www.thewrestlinggame.com/ Become a wrestler- Technique, Speed, Resistance, Strength, or Balanced? You decide! (Seriously, though, good game- moderate patience required)
Monday, December 6, 2010
Poetic Justice
If I was a bunny
Wouldn’t it be funny
To find out that I could fly?
Alas, as I say with a sigh
I’m not a bunny
There once was a limerick that came
That was really kind of lame
This is it
Devoid of wit
It has not achieved fame
Me, Myself, and I
Called out to a passerby
He was a gangster, hip and cool
One of those guys that never looked like a fool
He just sighed
A man from Bengal
Was invited to a fancy dress ball
He decided to risk it
Said, “I’ll go as a biscuit!”
But the dog ate him up in the hall
As the king said to me
“Do you have the key?”
I answered, “Yes.”
And he gave me a fez
Which I didn’t really need
A flickering candle
Was too hot to handle
A burning flame
With no name
Except Randel
I am a deep and dark room
Filled with misery and gloom
Loaded with hairy toys and more
Stuffed with dust bunnies galore
I am a vacuum
There once was a man at the mall
Who was rather quite small
He said to himself,
I must be an elf
For his sneeze had blown him down the hall
Wouldn’t it be funny
To find out that I could fly?
Alas, as I say with a sigh
I’m not a bunny
There once was a limerick that came
That was really kind of lame
This is it
Devoid of wit
It has not achieved fame
Me, Myself, and I
Called out to a passerby
He was a gangster, hip and cool
One of those guys that never looked like a fool
He just sighed
A man from Bengal
Was invited to a fancy dress ball
He decided to risk it
Said, “I’ll go as a biscuit!”
But the dog ate him up in the hall
As the king said to me
“Do you have the key?”
I answered, “Yes.”
And he gave me a fez
Which I didn’t really need
A flickering candle
Was too hot to handle
A burning flame
With no name
Except Randel
I am a deep and dark room
Filled with misery and gloom
Loaded with hairy toys and more
Stuffed with dust bunnies galore
I am a vacuum
There once was a man at the mall
Who was rather quite small
He said to himself,
I must be an elf
For his sneeze had blown him down the hall
An Allegory
And so the last Spartan standing died, the Spartan king, falling under the mass of sharpened arrows fired by the despicable cowards. 300 they numbered, and defended their pass, their cities, and their heritage. 300 stood before the mad king Xerxes in defiance. A few thousand strong supported those 300, those who had not fled. And yet they were slaughtered like cowards, which they did not deserve. The mad king watched over all and smiled. He laughed, a cruel and malicious laugh, for he had won...but had he? For the cities were defended, and his victory was obtained by treacherous means. And the 300 died, fighting to their last breath...
Wednesday, June 10, 2009
Spartans
Can you see the vast army below prepared to conquer the world? You may join that army....the warriors known for their toughness, fighting skills, loyalty, and courage...
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