Pork Attack Battlewagon rumble towards stadium. Back-to-back elf match to start season, so many tight pants and high cheekbones, fill War Pig with gnawing rage!!
War Pig tired. Last night out late in forest with brotha blitza boi Snout Backfat, raping, maiming, cutting down trees. As sun broke over horizon, Snout took large dump, set on fire. Fire brigade speed past Battlewagon in opposite direction to fight forest blaze.
To combat fatigue, Pig cut out big line of Orcaine, snort to brain. Everything slide into gritty focus. Black Ork Hamhock chanting “elf die, elf die!!” ring in ear, goblin Dirk Treakla cackle while pissing out bus window on elf fan banner: RIP Lymeyth.
Battlewagon pull into stadium lot. In locker room, Coach Bort squeal, “Division match, bois! Bokoo big deal! We squish many pansy elf, see if they bleed green. These elf probably vegetarian!!” At this, Pork Attack locker room erupt; non-meat eaters lowest of low. Team electric, best pregame speech ever.
War Pig sneak bump of Orcaine, enter battle trance. Sky clear, fans shout, whistle go! Pork open with kick, blitz through elf line. Brotha Blitzer Snout Backfat clearly hungover from last night rampage, throw double skull on game’s first block. This set tone for whole damn sad game.
Green elfs treat the Pork beasts like sissy goblins. Throwa Chuck Bacon knocked out turn 1, swollen brain sleep whole game. Coach Bort rip up offensive game plan. Snout Backfat bleary-eyed, bumble into elf ambush. Apothecary fix smashed collar bone, smash Snout hip in process.
Halftime, Pork fans wail, scoreboard say 0-1 to green elfs. Coach Bort bounce off walls in locker room. “War Pig take ball. Cage strong, kill elfs, play for tie!” Pig nod grim, ball-carry not forte, but Pork need point.
Half 2 go, War Pig grasp ball, grind cage up the middle slow. Slimy green bastard elfs ever slip away from rabid Porky grasps. Pig stay patient, tie score turn 16. No chance for elf to reclaim lead…
Then Nuffle spray down his fickle diarrhea on star-crossed Porkers. Three naked Kobold streak across pitch, referee whistle go, give demon green elf bonus turn. War Pig blitz epileptic elf Warprancer, but too little too late. Elfs loft go-ahead pass into end zone. Final whistle go.
Post-game locker room grim. Coach Bort cry foul on crooked bastard referees, vow vengeance against vile vegan conference rivals. War Pig grind teeth until gums bleed. No joy in Porkton, little Piggy go “wee, wee, wee, wee,” whole way home.