Making Sausage

This post is part of the series The Big Bad Wight

Other posts in this series:

  1. Soundtrack to Excellence
  2. First Blood
  3. And the Crowd Goes Wild!

ONCE UPON A TIME, there was a Big, Bad Wight, who made it his business to toughen up a bunch of sappy, pillow-fighting  necromantics named after rom coms.

The refs had been hoping that the halftime break would calm the crowd down, and maybe even some of the players’ bloodlust, leading to less illegal shenanigans. But the air still tasted like hate and battery acid as Fred “Fingers” Goblowski kicked the ball into the Hopeless Necromantics’ side of the pitch. Mike “Dog Fighter” Vicce was back from his involuntarily induced nap, but Ignatious the Great was still on the sideline dreaming about unicorns and rainbows and other nice things to eat and pee on.

Rocky “Da Brick” Danger was still just as hyped up as in the first half, too. He had lined up just 2 meters off the line of scrimmage, and he was yelling at Velcro Candy about how he was going to strip that ball again and carry it with Velcro’s limp corpse into the end zone for the score. Da Brick was so caught up in his monologue, he failed to notice the bony figure that had lined up in front of him. He was so focused on Velcro, who was picking up the ball, that he ignored that bony figure and another Romantic run past him downfield. He was screaming so loudly that his own ears were buzzing…or was that a…he was midsentence into a description of what he would do to Velcro’s family when Hack Enslash’s chainsaw plunged into his back and opened up his spine. The bony figure had come back.

Iron City coach BMFJiggs1981 sent his apothecary running to Da Brick’s still-twitching body, but the apothecary looked confused as to how he was supposed to put this mess back together. While Da Brick bled to death in a gurgling mess of his own organs, Coach Jiggs ripped into the apo about his incompetence and how he wasn’t worth the gold he was paid…and then he looked up and asked his players where Da Brick had gone. By the time they discovered that a fire team of Romantics had grabbed the body and taken it to their own sideline, it was too late.

“Can you save him?” Coach Serious Jest asked his rookie necromancer. Deadpool the wight, who had played the past 6 seasons for Coach Jest as a Romantic, and who had spent the offseason honing his new craft, replied, “He’s pretty to’e up, boss, but lucky for you, I’m just making sausage here.” A few crude stitches and a hurried incantation later, the Romantics had a new zombie!

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