Xavier kicks butt!!
I rolled into the ring and let out a savage yell. It really wasn't very loud, I suppose, but I wanted the screaming fans surrounding the Thunderdome to know that I was there.
My opponent, Mad Dog the Killer Clown, jumped down from the rafters and landed on the dirt ground with a loud boom. He looked at me and pointed a dirty greasy finger towards me. His whole body was covered with a thick film of sweat and grime. Obviously he hadn't bathed since . . well, ever probably.
With a maniac roar he started beating his chest. Then he scratched behind his ear. I could see the fleas jumping ship. I think I know why they call him Mad Dog.
I rolled my chair towards the center of the ring, regretting that Jon wouldn't let me use my combat mode hover chair with heat seeking Stinger missiles. And after my sidekick Arthur had spent so much time polishing them.
Mad Dog loomed over me, an evil twisted smile on his face. A long shimmering strand of something dripped from his lower lip. His thick meaty fingers flexed in obvious anticipation. He was 300 pounds of solid muscle. I knew I could take him, even if there was a psionic dampening field built into the Thunderdome.
The announcer pulled back his little hammer and was about to ring the bell with it, when Arthur came running into the ring.
"Stop the fight! Stop the fight!" he shouted frantically.
"Arthur, this isn't a good time," I said.
He looked nervously up at Mad Dog and then leaned down and whispered in my ear. "Professor, you lost last week."
"Yes, I know. Don't worry, I'll make it up this week."
"No, you don't understand. You were voted off the show."
"Oh please, Arthur. You just don't know how these things work. I'll win this match and then they'll be glad to take me back."
Arthur looked over his shoulder at the drooling Mad Dog. He quickly turned back to me. "First of all, I think this pyscho behind me will kill you in about two seconds flat. Second of all . . you can't play. I'm sorry. You lost. I was rooting for you but that's just how it is sometimes. There's a shuttle waiting to take us back to Earth."
I looked over at the control booth and saw several of the producers frantically talking with each other and pointing periodically at me. Jon stood behind them looking at me. He just shrugged and nodded his head towards the exit.
Hmm. So it appears Arthur was right. I lost. Imagine that. I suppose that's it then. I'd best go catch that shuttle. Oh well, it will be good to sleep in my own warm bed again, I suppose.
My opponent, Mad Dog the Killer Clown, jumped down from the rafters and landed on the dirt ground with a loud boom. He looked at me and pointed a dirty greasy finger towards me. His whole body was covered with a thick film of sweat and grime. Obviously he hadn't bathed since . . well, ever probably.
With a maniac roar he started beating his chest. Then he scratched behind his ear. I could see the fleas jumping ship. I think I know why they call him Mad Dog.
I rolled my chair towards the center of the ring, regretting that Jon wouldn't let me use my combat mode hover chair with heat seeking Stinger missiles. And after my sidekick Arthur had spent so much time polishing them.
Mad Dog loomed over me, an evil twisted smile on his face. A long shimmering strand of something dripped from his lower lip. His thick meaty fingers flexed in obvious anticipation. He was 300 pounds of solid muscle. I knew I could take him, even if there was a psionic dampening field built into the Thunderdome.
The announcer pulled back his little hammer and was about to ring the bell with it, when Arthur came running into the ring.
"Stop the fight! Stop the fight!" he shouted frantically.
"Arthur, this isn't a good time," I said.
He looked nervously up at Mad Dog and then leaned down and whispered in my ear. "Professor, you lost last week."
"Yes, I know. Don't worry, I'll make it up this week."
"No, you don't understand. You were voted off the show."
"Oh please, Arthur. You just don't know how these things work. I'll win this match and then they'll be glad to take me back."
Arthur looked over his shoulder at the drooling Mad Dog. He quickly turned back to me. "First of all, I think this pyscho behind me will kill you in about two seconds flat. Second of all . . you can't play. I'm sorry. You lost. I was rooting for you but that's just how it is sometimes. There's a shuttle waiting to take us back to Earth."
I looked over at the control booth and saw several of the producers frantically talking with each other and pointing periodically at me. Jon stood behind them looking at me. He just shrugged and nodded his head towards the exit.
Hmm. So it appears Arthur was right. I lost. Imagine that. I suppose that's it then. I'd best go catch that shuttle. Oh well, it will be good to sleep in my own warm bed again, I suppose.
posted by Professor Xavier at 6:48 PM
9 Comments:
Yes. Xavier DOES kick butt. Welcome home.
I would have like to see you talk on that clown. But I guess the masses thought differently:(
I guess it's fortunate that you didn't face off against Bastion Booger, he's even more disgusting.
You can still fight, long as you've got a tune in your heart and a spleen to vent!
Sometimes it can be very hard to accept defeat.
It's agony.
Ha Ha you almost got Clowned! uhh no offence Gyrobo.
I love you Prof...
Right back at you, Erifia.
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