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Syndicate Monthly Archives Attack of the Social Sports Club
J.C. Polk
February 01, 2008 1:26 PM
Ok, so picture this - Master of Weejun in disguise at a foreign local watering hole. One that is on a main strip, or should I say Main St. in a town named Richmond. From the outside you would find a non-suspecting transplanted west-end bar with an abandoned seasonal patio embellished by out of season Christmas Lights on the railing. Inside offers a much more less excitement. The Bastard, being a fan of the 2008 NCAA Men’s Basketball Champions, aka UNC, chose this watering hole with the anticipation of feeling right at Home. Granted, the plasmas, the libations, food, and abbreviated restroom definetly gave the feel of being at Home, the time that it remained in this state was brief. 3:15 after the tip, a hoard of creatures began to file in doning like shirts (orange in color) with call letters that I made out to be R-C-S-S-C. After great observation and notetaking (and a couple Legend Ales) I was able to conclude this was a varied species. In all shapes and sizes their behavior was very similar. Petite as 5’3”, 115lbs to as grand as 6’3” 275lbs they weren’t strangers to this place. From the door they move rapidly to the bar located in the rear and converge upon the barkeep reciting a religious ritual that begins with PBR and concludes with “Leave it Open”. Shortly after, they began activities resembling a true native born bar fly. As they repeat the ritual, the volume of their conversations increase. Laughter becomes more prevalent. The perspiration that was wet upon their entrance, now has dried to a nasty white stain on their colorful (red, blue, black, yellow) shirts. This does not affect their physical interaction. The scent that they emit, they are immune to. It doesn’t prevent the male species from embracing the female. To watch this group is entertaining and captivating. They scurry about back and forth to the restroom and then to the bar. As the trips increase and become more frequent, they become more friendly, or maybe brave. It is only after a series of these rituals did I find them to accept me into their own subclasses. After interacting with them and investigating, i find that they all are members of a cult 1400 people strong that participates in weekly contest for supremacy masked in DodgeBall. Which immediately explained the several young ladies who had permanent facial imprints of a pelted ball. Although my initial feeling was apprehension as they attacked my surrogate Home, I was able to grow less fearful of the breed. Ironicially, they made me feel right at Home and apart of the Team. It took some ‘Grill‘-ing from my company to come to this level of comfort. Although I felt all alone in a room full of people, I must say that this Attack surely sends me back to my native habitat. The Land of Popkin. Heels won in a blowout! M.O.W.B.O.B. NOTE: all facts, statistics, and information can be verified by Andrew Cothern!
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