The bruised remnants of the Widowmakers trudged wearily to the training ground, most still limping and bearing signs of their recent game with injuries below the knee.
Sabbath and Skunk Anansie had it even worse with broken feet and a smashed collar bone from a Dwarf dive from 2 foot high. They would be missing from a very fortunate playoff qualification.
Coach Thunden stewed in his own juices on the sidelines… a carrier bat had just delivered the usual mocking end of season message from Coach Doneagle. It simply said, “Predictable. 4-2-1. Borrrrrrrring!!!!” The missive had been quickly crumpled and discarded, much the same as most of the fans thought the playoffs would go for the Widowmakers.
The game against Coach Roykes Dorfs had been as expected on the physical side, Tobi and his comrades held nothing back and with Terrorvision and Pumpkin having an off day… the bruises began to tell. Fortunately the score side of things went well, The Pilot picked up another one as did Pumpkin. Who has now been reminded that’s not his role in the team and to focus on the bash rather than running away from dwarves.
How to deal with the playoffs… He’d been expecting a nice relaxing and fun bowl game, but through the sheer ineptitude of Coach Lazertrips Lizards falling to comedy side, InGen Apocalypse the Widowmakers had gone through.
As he surveyed the list of possible opponents, he feared for the next season. Power Hour, Necromantics, Howlers, Krushers, Dead Metal and the brand new Hellhammers. There was a ray of light however… Dino Rock! They’d yet again managed to squeeze their way into the playoff group… now that had been a hell of a playoff game, all hinging on a wonderful blitz by Dead Zeppelin! Maybe with the right persuasion in the right areas he could land this plumb tie again. This would mean calling in all sorts of favours… he’d breezed through the ‘investigation’ into those poor Hornets, that should have built him some credit with the boss. Hell he’s even agreed to take up the mic and restart the radio show in Season 10! No problem thought Coach Thunden. Dino Crocked it is.
As he returned his attention to the training paddock, he clicked his fingers and summoned the serving boy over from where he stood looking longingly at the players refreshments… this poor cretin was dressed in a dirty clown costume that had seen better days. His eyes were dead, the eyes of a soul that had given up. Clearly kept in the Widowmakers HQ as a parody this poor fool had obviously made some heinous errors. As he turned towards the coach of the Widowmakers he uttered a whispered and rasping, “Sir?”
“Get me a drink, worm.”
As the pitiful clown turned around and shuffled away, it was just possible to make out the remnants of a black and yellow costume underneath the smudged and garish outfit… a rock flew from Coach Thundens fist.
“Move it Terd!!!!”